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victimhood · 4 years ago

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The one in which the Euros 3rd place playoff is abolished after Italia 1980, and then restored at short notice for Italia 2028, making it the historic occasion in which a whole country cockblocked their captain Nicolò di Genova.

It is June 1980. The European Championship is taking place in Italy. It is the first edition of the tournament with eight teams, divided into two groups. The winners of each group move on to play in the final, and the runners up of each group move on to battle for third place.

It is the final edition of the Euros to have the third place playoff. With dwindling attendances and television viewers, UEFA deems the fixture unnecessary for future editions of the tournament. Italy hold Czechoslovakia to a 1-1 draw, and the match is decided on penalties. The final outcome? 9-8 to Czechoslovakia.

For as long as it has existed, there has been vocal opposition to the third place match. There are those who question its purpose, who see it as a meaningless extension of the tournament for advertisement money. A kinder commentary on offer is from those who see it as cruel to make losers play yet another competitive fixture, for little to no reward. Just think of the fourth-placed team—they played better than the rest of the competition except three—yet they must go home with the bitter memory of having lost twice.

On the other camp, there are those who recall with great fondness the third place match of the 2002 World Cup between host nation South Korea and Turkey. If that doesn’t work for you, what about the consolation it offered to the host nation in the 1990 World Cup, a breakout tournament for Italy’s Roberto Baggio?

Now we skip to June 2028. The European Championship is once more taking place in Italy. There are twenty four teams divided into groups, followed by a knockout stage. There is no third place fixture on the schedule. The much-beloved Italian captain takes his team on a blistering dream run, in front of an adoring home crowd, beating a well-regarded Portugal and incumbent holders Belgium along the way. He has declared his intention to retire for good, once this tournament is over.

Picture this: you are Italy. You play England in the semifinal in Napoli, at the Stadio San Paolo, also known as the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona. You arrive in the stadium, or you watch from home, full of hope, with faith in your captain and your squad. Your team scores one at the 20th minute. Perfect opening. England try but they can’t get past the deadbolt across goal, past your much vaunted defensive line. At the 63rd minute, Foden puts one past your goalie, but VAR rules it offside. At the 89th minute, the scoreline is still 1-0 and you’re nearly through, and some egregious fans are already cheering, and then Foden gets it in for real in a stroke of sheer luck. The ball hits the crossbar but somehow bounces downward into goal. The game goes into extra time, and then to penalties. The final result? England wins 4-3 on penalties. This is a brutal game. At the end of your match, your captain sheds tears and apologizes for not being able to do more to push the team through to the finals. No! You want to scream. Caro Nicolò, il nostro capitano, it’s not your fault. You have done so much for us. You begin to blame yourself: it’s us, it’s our fault. We dared to dream too early. You were so busy dreaming of your beloved captain raising the trophy that you forgot the game wasn’t over. In fact, even before this semifinal you were already dreaming of the trophy. This is how fate punishes you. You hate to see him end his career this way. He didn’t let you down, you let your captain down! Can we do this one over? You’ll do right by your captain this time.

Picture this: you’re the president of UEFA, and the tournament is hosted in your home country. It would have been the honor of honors, to award the winner’s medals to your compatriots. The papers are raging over the match outcome: England squeaked through on a razor’s blade, and Italy were the more inspired team. The fans are out in the streets. The people have spoken! Let us bring back the third place match! Let us see our captain off with dignity and honor! Your colleagues say: this is preposterous. We got rid of it years ago, because of Italia 1980. But does anyone really remember why? The advertisers tell you they’re willing to pay. One extra match means extra revenues. Worse things have happened in the pursuit for money. What’s the harm in a consolation match? An emergency meeting is called. Who’s playing in the second semifinal? France and the Netherlands. Both their feds agree to the third place match. From the next tournament onwards, there’ll even be a sweet cherry of a coefficient bonus—all the feds agree to this, but it would not be fair to the rest to apply it this ongoing tournament (and you hear minor grumbles from the FIGC, FFF and KNVB, who think they should be compensated for the inconvenience). No matter; the people have been given what they want! Another football match in the grand machine of things! The meeting takes so long that France beats the Netherlands 3-2 in the meantime, and now someone has to do the unpleasant job of telling the players. Were any of them consulted in this affair? What a preposterous concept. That’s not how UEFA works. UEFA says jump and they say how high.

Picture this: you are Nicolò Di Genova, and you’ve played the final match of your professional career. It did not end in the way you wanted, but such is life. You are ready to put your former self in the grave. You say goodbye to your treasured teammates, and the very next morning you check out of the training center to make your way to Turin, to see your fidanzato in the semifinals. Well, he crashes out too, his downfall orchestrated by that paraculo of your club teammate, Sébastien of the number 23. And so it is England vs France in the final, to be played in Italy. The thought of it turns even the strongest stomach of any citizen of this noble country. The only silver lining to this cursed final lineup is getting to whisk the love of your life off into the secluded countryside, and maybe with a few rounds of passionate lovemaking you can even forget the pain of loss.

You’re in the car. You just picked up your inamorato from his team hotel. You want to push him into the backseat and blow the brains out of him but you have better self control than that.

“How does retirement feel like?” he cracks a joke at you.

“You know full well my plans,” you return cheekily.

You’re driving off into the E70 when your phone rings. It doesn’t stop ringing so you pull over to take the call.

It’s your national team coach. “They just restored the third place match. Can you come back to the training ground?”

Who agreed to this? Your mind is reeling from the preposterousness of it all.

“They love you, Nichi. The people want you back.”

You exchange a look with your lover. Now his phone is ringing too. It’s his coach.

Due to this unfortunate turn of events you end up having an argument with your lover. You are principled, and having principles means not giving in to this total farce of a circus show, the third place match. Your lover is an incurable romantic, and pleads on behalf of your people. They did this all for you—show them some love in return. And what was the meaning of the past 31 years of your life again? You have already given them everything.

If only the people of Italy knew how much they had to thank Yusuf Al Kaysani. It’s because of him—it’s because of his beautiful deep brown eyes that glisten with all the stars of this universe that you cave and you agree.

“Get out, let’s switch. I’ll drive, and you call your mom and tell her the news.”

How do you begin to articulate how much this man knows the answers in your heart before your brain catches up to the same conclusions?

And so, like Lazarus, on the fourth day of your death you come back to life.

ITA vs NED

Picture this: you’re the cameraman, in the tunnel. The teams are lining up. The two captains emerge from the dressing room and compliment each other on their good looks with wry smiles. Some good natured ribbing, you think. They’re old friends. They played together for eight years at the same club. The Italian captain puts his hands on the Dutch captain, and then, like magnets, his hands seem incapable of leaving the Dutch captain’s back. You start to feel uncomfortable, like you’re seeing something that you shouldn’t be seeing. You look around. Everyone else in the double file of blue and orange is just chatting away, acting normal. Maybe...it’s just your imagination? You train your camera on the chatting crowd, giving the captains space. The match officials appear, taking the lead in front of both teams. You get in position for the money shot, following the two teams out of the tunnel and into the adoring crowd.

Picture this: you have never missed a single football match your grandson plays in. So when there’s a surprise third place match announced, you have to bail on karaoke night with the girls to watch the match on tv. Your friends don’t watch football, but if they do, they watch for the “hot guys on the Italian team”. Oh yeah, he’s playing Italy, you tell them. Feel free to come over to my place, if they don’t mind your oldest son and your rowdy grandchildren. Karaoke night swiftly becomes football night. There is an argument between Hamza and his dad over the pointlessness of the third place playoff. So...your family has been behaving in an unusual manner for several months now, and you suspect it’s because your grandson said he is gay. The papers here don’t report it, because they still want to claim him to some extent, but you have noted that the coverage is more conditional than before. You don’t live under a rock, and you’ve seen the news on YouTube even if no one around you is prepared to talk about it. As the two teams walk out of the tunnel and onto the pitch, you notice the Italian captain letting his hand slip from your grandson’s back, and Hamza suddenly jumps in front of the TV screen to adjust the volume.

“What the heck are you doing?” Mehdi, Hamza’s father and your eldest son, yells.

“The audio was...wonky,” Hamza replies sheepishly. “But I think it’s okay now.”

The match begins. At a corner kick, the Italian captain practically plasters himself all over your grandson, and it’s Hamza messing with the TV remote again, this time accidentally switching channels. Mehdi slaps him in the back of the head. You think that maybe it’s time you called Ibrahim. Someone needs to tell you the truth they’ve been so bad at hiding. Your grandson is not just gay, he seems to have a lover, and it’s that evil-eyed captain, the man who curses all who cross him.

Picture this: you’re a fan from the friendly town of Muggenbeet, watching from the San Siro. You came all this way to support the Oranje and they had to concede that final goal to France in front of your face. Sore and in denial about your loss, you start to make jokes about Waterloo to cope, handing the French off to the English. And then—out of nowhere, UEFA announces that they’ll restore the third place match. You think it’s the most shameless attempt for the host country to award themselves something ever. But, you know, does anyone really want to watch an England-France final? No. Never. For forever. We hate them both. It’s not football. It’s a circus of clowns. The viewership for this third place match is through the roof, higher than for your semifinal vs France. Let’s just treat this as the real final. What a galaxy-brained idea. Your country could steal it from the hosts—no hard feelings to Italy. You’ve enjoyed the pizza and the pasta, maybe it would be fun to crush their team like little peppercorns to sprinkle on your food. Based. Now you want a cacio e pepe after the match. Wait, you’re not in Rome, where the real (fake news!) final is. Boo. There is a corner, right at the end where you are sitting. Poepjes is taking it. Dekmijn and Blootgat are running up. Your captain is being felt up by the Italian captain. (No literally, that guy isn’t even looking at the goal? He’s just...pressing himself against your captain? Why are his hands encircled around Al Kaysani’s waist like so?) Anyway, the ball pings between the Italian keeper and Blootgat, and then it flies into Di Genova’s rather shapely calves...and bounces into the goal.

Uhhhhhh, THANK YOU? Grazie mille Nicolò Di Genova!!!! You gave us one goal!!!

The Italian fans must be flabbergasted. Isn’t this the dude’s retirement match? Or whatever. Who knows. Italy is a place of the greatest contradictions, so you’ve been told. But you’ll take what you can get. You kinda feel bad for the guy, who has buried his face in his hands. Maybe...you should cheer for him. And so...the lot of you, the orange lot, sitting in the Curva Sud, you start singing for the Italian captain. Nicolò Di Genova! There’s only one Di Genova!

The third place match is the most lawless ninety minutes in the historical timeline.

Picture this: you’re an Interista and season ticket holder. And of course you support your national team. You were heartbroken when the England keeper denied Marcuzzi to progress to the finals. You cried when your captain cried. And then, out of nowhere, they said, let’s bring back the third place match. The finals are in the Stadio Olimpico, so...maybe let’s have the third place match in the San Siro? You score a ticket at your usual seat. You get to see your captain one more time before he rides off into the sunset? What more can you ask for? This is romance of the highest order. The San Siro loves Nichi, of course all the staff and volunteers come together to make the event happen in a matter of days. You can’t believe this is happening. And then...your captain opens the scoring with an own goal. The Dutch fans are singing for him. What do you do? Well, if you can’t beat them, join them—you can sing louder for your captain! He’s your captain! And you know, their captain, he’s kinda your guy too, because Sempre Inter. Revenge is served, sweet and cold like a scoop of gelato, when your captain heads in the equalizer. The crowd goes wild. He’s taking this match seriously, but you knew he always would—that’s why you love him. He could ask for your firstborn and you would gladly give it up. You can always trust your capitano. There is a penalty call in the second half of the match and his teammates give it to him—a little unorthodox—but like a deadly sniper your captain sneaks a cool and calculated one past the Dutch keeper. You cheer. Does it count as a hat trick when you’ve scored at both ends? What a scoreline to retire to!

Picture this: you’re Yusuf Al Kaysani. You just lost in the third place match, a match widely panned as the least necessary match in a tournament by those who don’t know better. And yet, the third place match is the purest expression of love for the beautiful game. All other matches are clouded by the temptations of fame and fortune. The third place match you play for love and honor. You watch from the sidelines as your boyfriend leads his team to collect the medals, from none other than Paolo Maldini. Maldini, who’s doing an admirable job as UEFA President. Who knows where and how they got these medals at short notice—sometimes this country pulls miracles like a rabbit out from the magician’s hat of chaos. Everyone in the stadium is acting like this is the final. It’s not—it’s something a little better, a match born of love, played for love, with nothing to win and nothing to lose.

There is no trophy to lift, so Nico’s teammates lift him. They’re yelling for you. You’ve played with and against at least 90% of that team. Come join us, the men in blue say, and everyone forms a circle, arm linking arm, bouncing to the music. There are no losers here—your whole team is invited to the celebrations. The Dutch fans are singing: Second place! Second place! Let’s pretend we’re second place!

Let’s be real, for this one night, in this exact stadium, there’s only one captain, and the ones in the know push you towards him. Here’s your man, the unspoken acknowledgement. But you know your place—this is not your night. This night is for him. It’s for the country that loves him, and for him to say one last goodbye. Daniele Pirozzi jumps on the captain’s back, and the captain carries him for a while, laughing away. Pirozzi, whom you spent countless hours training how to read the field, in a fashion after yours. And then there’s Boselli, Marcuzzi, Poepjes and more. From one generation to another, the baton is passed. Nico, look around, these are our boys, as good as any. They’ll be better than us, and we are happy to see it, for the love of the game. Pirozzi jumps off the captain’s back and jumps onto you, asking you if you want to lift the captain together. You laugh and agree. On the count of three, uno, due—

Picture this: you’re Nicolò Di Genova, and you’re sitting on the shoulders of your protegé and your lover. Here we can mark the passing of the guard—tonight you are unburdened and the only thing that’s left, you realize, is love. Yusuf was right. Look, look how much they love you. Even San Paolo did this for you. Could you ever have denied all of them this? You almost screwed it up at the beginning, but perhaps God was just reminding you to take your responsibilities seriously. You are but a servant of the game and this ground is your ground, your hallowed ground, the church of your sins and glory.

It’s the final competitive match of your career, and you get to walk off the field, arm in arm with the love of your life, cheered on by a country you gave everything to.

Now, for the rest of your life to begin.

(chapter 106: nel blu, dipinto di blu, of The Beautiful Game)

#the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #this is fanfic!!#football!AU #soccer!AU #this chapter cracks me up each time #tog: the beautiful game #tog fc

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kirayun · 4 years ago

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The Proposal (Eng. Version)

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Ita Version AO3 Ita Version Tumblr

Summary: Nine months after the Christmas 2020 events, Abby is finally ready to get her original plans back in motion.

Nine months, it had been just over nine months since the disaster that was Christmas week 2020. Abby Holland had spent the start of those holidays with the belief that her one-year relationship with her girlfriend Harper Caldwell was now perfect. and solid and for this reason she had ordered an engagement ring and was ready to make the proposal. Initially she wanted to do it for the New Year, but then Harper's request to go back to the family with her for Christmas gave her the idea of being a bit traditional and asking her father's blessing and then making the proposal on the day. Christmas. We know how that story ended...

After those events their relationship had a rebirth, a restart with no more lies with any of the parties involved. Of course it wasn't easy at first. After the brief Christmas bliss of finally being completely honest with everyone, they were back in Pittsburgh and the serious talk had begun. There was still a lot of pain about how Harper had made her feel in those five days and they both needed a few words of how to start over. But that's another story.

The ring was no longer mentioned. She had made John promise never to talk to Harper about what she had in mind that Christmas and the box had ended up well hidden at home by his best friend.

But now Abby finally felt ready to take that step again, to consolidate a relationship she no longer had any doubts about, that Harper was the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, her person.

——————————————————–

4 October, 2021, that morning had started as it often did, the two women woke up next to each other, Harper's eyes already open watching her girlfriend begin to wake from sleep.

"You're staring at me, again." Abby said, her eyes still closed.

"I just like watching you wake up, you are adorable." Harper replied in a sweet tone as she strokes a few strands of Abby's hair.

The shorter girl smiled and then finally opened her eyes and gave her girlfriend a good morning kiss. After a bit of kisses and caresses, the two girls decided to get up and go downstairs to have breakfast.

Minutes later the two were in their kitchen, cups in hand as they sipped them. Harper wore pajamas while Abby wore a long sweatshirt that reached her legs and a pair of socks.

"Are you going to university today?" Harper asked.

"No, I'll study for a while at home and then do some walking around for some pets." Actually Abby's plans weren't exactly that, but she couldn't tell her girlfriend. "Are you leaving the editorial office at the usual time today?" She had to be sure that Harper would be on schedule so that her plans go as she had planned.

Harper nodded. "Yeah, I don't have to deal with important stuff so I shouldn't be late." The brunette noticed the time and put the cup down on a piece of furniture. "And in that regard I have to hurry and get dressed if I don't want to be late." She placed her hands on Abby's hips and kissed her for a few seconds, then went upstairs to get ready for work.

After making sure she wasn't around anymore, Abby picked up her cell phone and texted her best friend.

We are in business, today is the day, later I will be at your home.

She smiled as she continued to drink from her cup.

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John opened the front door, letting Abby into her apartment. Or to be precise it was the girl who practically let herself in due to the speed with which she made her entrance.

"Is the box in the usual place?" She asked quickly.

"Good morning John, how are you today?" He uttered sarcastically

Abby seemed to completely ignore the words of her best friend and took a firm step towards another room, "I don't have time, I need that ring" Her voice was already far away having already reached the point of ' apartment she was looking for.

Shortly after the girl returned with the open box in her hand, she was checking the ring bought the year before. She wanted to make sure it was still as perfect as she remembered it, not having wanted to see it again until she felt ready to take that step again.

“Do you know that I still think that marriage is an archaic institution? I honestly don't understand how you can try again after the disaster of last Christmas, maybe it was a signal from above. ”You could always count on John's honesty. An honesty that, however, he did not judge and there were never bad intentions in his words.

Abby didn't stop looking at the ring, "This time will be different," she closed the box and put it in her coat pocket, "I already have her parents' blessing." It had to be said that the Cadwells had made a lot of progress in the last year, in June they joined Pittsburgh Pride with them. Jane, Riley and her new girlfriend had also come, but Sloane was on vacation with the kids. “Forward this time I am 100% sure, we have overcome the events of those days and now we are open to everything. I have no doubts, that's what I want to do."

John, now sure of Abby's decision, smiled at him "So let's get going."

——————————————————–

It was almost dinner time, Abby had sent her location to Harper on her cell phone and wrote him that they would have dinner out and would meet at that point without adding anything else.

She didn't have to wait long and soon saw her girlfriend's car park in front of her and get out of it.

"So why all this mystery about dinner plans?" Harper asked.

Abby shrugged. "Nothing special, I just wanted to go out." She tried not to make it seem like a big deal, she wanted the evening to feel as normal as possible for now. She reached out and took Harper's hand with hers so they could walk together and lead her girlfriend to the place where they would eat.

Arriving in front of the club, Harper recognized the place. "But this is ..."

Abby nodded in confirmation "Yes, today I felt a little nostalgic and I thought here was fine."

Harper grabbed Abby's face with her hands "It's perfect." The two kissed softly for a few seconds, and then entered the club, the same place must have had their first date in December almost two years ago.

——————————————————–

After dinner the two girls walked hand in hand on a sidewalk. Abby was leading them to the park the two of them usually went to.

"I wanted this night out, things had been bustling in the paper lately, you know, with that big deal we've had to deal with in the past few days." Harper was happy that things had calmed down again and she could be home soon from Abby.

They entered the park and Abby let go of Harper's hand to be able to walk a little further and then turn to her as they walked "And the best is yet to come." She said with a big smile on her face.

Harper made a curious face but then froze when she saw what was in front of him.

It was the spot in the park where their favorite picnic table was, but everything was different: the trees around it had party lights hanging between them, some furnishings from their home that recall particular moments of their relationship were scattered around including Abby's old chair she had brought when she moved in with her. The table, on the other hand, was full of printed photos of the two of them and in the center an ice bucket with champagne inside and a couple of champagne glasses placed in front.

Harper was speechless. "Abby but what..."

Abby, still smiling, approached the table, remaining standing, she took the bottle which had already been opened (thanks John), filled the two glasses with champagne and gave one to Harper who had joined her, holding for her the other. "Come on, I promise you that it will all be clear soon."

After drinking all the champagne and putting down the glasses, the two girls stared at each other in silence for a few seconds until Abby took a small breath and began to speak. "As you know this place is special to us, this is where we exchanged the first "I love you" and there was no better place to show you how true those words are for me." Inside her was trembling slightly with emotion. "You are my person, the love of my life, my family and the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with and the only one I will ever want." Seeing in Harper's eyes that she was beginning to realize what was going on she decided to move on to the final part. Abby dropped to her knees in the classic pose and pulled the small box out of her coat pocket, opening it with her hands to display its contents. "Harper Cadwell will you marry me?" Here, she had done it.

Harper clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes glistening at the ring, not believing what she was seeing, that Abby was really proposing to her.

Moments later, when her brain decided to collaborate with her again, she came up with the only words she wanted to say in this circumstance: nodding she said "Yes, of course yes." By now a few tears were falling from her eyes.

Happy as ever, Abby took the ring out of the box and grabbed Harper's left hand to slip it over the finger she had wanted to see it on since last year. This done, she stood up and kissed her new fiancee passionately.

She had finally made it. After an almost vague first attempt and nine months of waiting to return to the ideal point of their relationship, she had succeeded in her desire to propose to the woman she loved and to dream the rest of their life together.

——————————————————–

October 5, 2021, the two young women were huddled together on the sofa in their apartment that morning. Harper holding her lowest fiancee in her arms, Abby's head under her chin. They had canceled any commitments or jobs for the day, just wanting to stay home and enjoy the happiness of their new relationship status.

At one point Harper's cell phone signaled a notification. She picked it up and after seeing what it was she gave a little laugh.

"What's this?" Abby asked looking up at her.

"You know the engagement photo we sent to my mother earlier?" They had decided to enjoy the rest of the previous evening together and then to postpone the news to the rest of the world until this morning. Once they woke up they took a picture together and sent it to family and friends. It still wasn't on any of their social networks so the news was more personal.

Abby was beginning to suspect what was going on. "Let me guess, she posted it on her Instagram, before we would like to add."

Harper made a confirmation sound. "Yeah but look at the tags." And she lowered the phone so she could show Abby the screen.

The blonde's eyes widened. "Did Tipper really write en-gay-ged ?!"

Both girls burst out laughing, but the story of the photo was soon forgotten in favor of yet another session of making out, too busy with each other's happiness.

They hardly noticed the knock on their door and John's shouted words. "Hey! Can anyone help me get all this stuff back inside ?!"

#Harby #abby x harper #happiest season #abby holland #harper caldwell #fanfic

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ollyarchive · 4 years ago

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Olly Alexander: ‘I want to make the community proud. I don’t know if I've always got it right’

David Levesley

As Ritchie Tozer in Russell T Davies’ devastating 1980s-set drama It's A Sin, Olly Alexander told a story from a tragically formative decade in gay history. As himself and as frontman of synthpop trio Years & Years, he contributes to a new narrative. But, as he reveals here, the insecurities and anxieties written into minority identities are not just a personal challenge: they can shape stories told by, for and about all his peers

It is the afternoon before It’s A Sin is broadcast to the nation and its star, 30-year-old musician and actor Olly Alexander, is buying a cat cushion. “It’s for a friend!” he says, mortified to be caught in the act of buying a plush feline.

Where once being the star of a primetime Channel 4 drama might mean greenrooms, watch parties and a celebratory afters, this is January 2021, so a flame-haired Alexander is sitting in his kitchen, drinking a smoothie the exact same lilac as his top.

“I’ve had a lot of restless energy,” he says, having binge-watched The Real Housewives Of New York City in between doing lots of squats and “watching homoerotic YouTube workout videos”. It’s not quite the normal build-up to a game-changing drama, but is there a better way to remember peacetime than watching a show filled with period pieces such as “friends drink indoors” or “strangers have guiltless sex at a house party”? It’s A Sin is both a masterpiece and a reminder that someday we will, once again, be able to be eaten out by hot men. “You’re so welcome,” Alexander says, laughing. “If I can bring anything to the British public, it’s a lesson in anal hygiene.”

Anal hygiene are two words we have probably never published together in GQ, but, more importantly, are probably not the subject of many – if any! – scenes in a piece of media not uploaded to OnlyFans. They are, however, the subject of a crucial scene in the first episode of It’s A Sin, in which Alexander’s character – an 18-year-old fledgling queer from the Isle Of Wight called Ritchie Tozer – gets rimmed by his campus crush, Ash Mukherjee (Nathaniel Curtis). No gay men watching came out of that scene not feeling seen and, like all the other sex scenes in It’s A Sin, it feels deeply realistic and fantastically homosexual.

“I can tell you I’ll never forget being practically butt-naked with my arse in the air in front of colleagues,” says Alexander, laughing. But by that point, he says, he had done so many sex scenes that it felt somewhat rote. “‘Ritchie’s got a dirty bum! Stick that arse in the air and look disappointed!’” What was interesting, he says, was the dynamic of trying to produce the most authentically gay experiences possible on camera.

‘WE UNDERSTOOD THESE CHARACTERS WITH A KIND OF SHORTHAND THAT GAY PEOPLE UNDERSTAND’

They were working with Ita O’Brien – a movement director and arguably the OG intimacy coordinator – but, for her sins, not a gay man. So while everyone would have an input in how a sex scene would be best shot, “There came a point when they would say, ‘Please tell us, because we’re not gay men.’” So then the writer, the performers, the director and O’Brien’s team would come to a consensus on how to make a threesome look like three men shagging, yet also make it look the best it could on camera and make sure “you never touch each other’s genitals, basically”.

Alexander says O’Brien’s input was a “lifesaver” for him on set. Although by the end he felt comfortable, he was at first intimidated by just how exposing this would be. “I had a bit of a hysterical breakdown. I was really worried I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t feel safe.” This was interesting to hear from Alexander, the proudly queer frontman of the band Years & Years, who “spent four years on the road performing and finding this character that I do feel sexy in”. It was then that O’Brien and the team asked him to bring whatever made him feel comfortable on stage into the room before the cameras rolled. “So I would sing before the takes, be a little bit of Olly on stage,” he says, laughing. “That was my way of tricking my brain and thinking it was a character. Which, of course, it was.”

Before he was Olly Alexander, consummate gamine artiste, Olly Alexander Thornton was a singled-out kid at a primary school in Gloucestershire (where his mother ran a music festival). He was, like many other gay kids growing up, bullied and harassed for being something “other”, which everyone is able to see long before you can define it yourself. “I remember being in primary school and I had long hair and people would call me a girl,” he says, and the wound still feels raw when he recounts it.

“I knew that was bad for boys. I didn’t like the things that other boys liked: I just wanted to play with the girls and watch Disney movies. Which obviously straight boys do as well,” he mentions, always making sure to provide caveats to include all facets of the human experience. Although the bullying began to subside by secondary school in Monmouthshire, he still stood out: he had big curly hair – “I was trying to hide my ears” – and would wear make-up or a choker sometimes on nonuniform days. “I think I was trying to figure out who I was,” he says. “Imagine getting to discover your own sexuality without any preconceived ideas! I mean, maybe that’s impossible. But it would be nice, right? Why should people bullying you be your first brush with your own sexuality?”

Like Ritchie Tozer, Alexander moved to London at 18 to pursue acting, but he also had designs on becoming a musician. “Because when you’re writing a song, you’re the director, the star, the producer, the writer. I wanted all of that! I needed that to be able to express myself,” he proclaims with faux hysteria. For years he found success as an actor in a diverse selection of roles: he appeared in Gaspar Noé’s Enter The Void, costarred with seemingly every other white British actor in The Riot Club and also in God Help The Girl, a musical film written by Belle And Sebastian’s Stuart Murdoch. “Then Years & Years just got to a place where it was going to take over and needed my full time,” Alexander says. So his focus moved to the music.

‘IMAGINE DISCOVERING YOUR SEXUALITY WITHOUT ANY PRECONCEIVED IDEAS!’

It was on their third single, “Real” – released in 2014 – that Alexander first felt his art and his sexuality really intermingle. “It was the first time I put in a male pronoun – I say ‘Do it, boy’ – and it’s quite subtle, but it was a big deal for me at the time.” This was when Years & Years were trying to get signed to a major label, so doing something so consciously queer felt like a risk (the band went on to sign with Polydor later that year).

While pop music has long had an element of queerness about it – you need only look at the artists featured in It’s A Sin to see how gay 1980s pop was – Alexander has long been frank that sexuality and success are not always seen as natural bedfellows. At a Stonewall event in 2018 he recounted being told during his media training, “Maybe it’s better not to say anything about your sexuality at all.” In the same year, he told NME there had been progress, but that “I just know there are people who are hiding their sexuality, so it’s still not gone completely”.

Alexander doubled down on it with the music video – featuring his Bright Star costar Ben Whishaw – where he “purposefully made it gay. There’s a cruising element to the very beginning. It’s slightly ambiguous, though, because back then I wasn’t quite ready to launch into being the gay crusader I think I am now.” In 2015 the band won the BBC’s Sound Of 2015 poll, releasing their first album, Communion, the same year. It became 2015’s fastest-selling debut album from a UK-signed band.

‘I JUST WATCHED LIAM PAYNE TAKE HIS TOP OFF, BUT NOW I’M NOT ALLOWED TO?’

But despite the success, and the realisation that audiences were either supportive of – or simply unfazed by – the queerness of Years & Years’ music, there is always an anxiety for Alexander about just how accepting people are willing to be. “I’ll tell you for real,” says Alexander, “I go out on stage – even if it’s for our own audience – and I’m like, ‘What if some of them don’t like me? What if some of them have an issue with me today?’ I always feel like I’m going to try a bit harder next time, try to do a bit more.”

While the character of “Olly Alexander, Years & Years frontman” is one that bespangles its performer with confidence, being queer in the music industry isn’t always an easy thing to navigate. He remembers seeing a tweet from someone who said Alexander’s sexuality was a ruse to try to attract the pink pound – a term for the spending power of gay men – “And it had an impact on me, because I’ve consciously tried to [be openly gay] in a lot of circumstances where I wouldn’t normally. And then for someone...” He tries to think of how to put it and comes up short. “It can chip away at you.”

He wouldn’t change a thing about his success, he says, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when it isn’t hard to be out and proud while also getting your foot in the door. “When we’re playing a pop music festival, I’m looking at the other acts in the lineup and there aren’t that many gay people on them,” he says. “You see how quickly your show isn’t family friendly any more because I want to take my top off and I’m like, ‘Well, I just watched Jason Derulo and Liam Payne take their tops off and have all these women in underwear, but now I’m not allowed?’ What do you do with that?”

It’s A Sin marks a return to acting but, also, a chance to refresh Alexander’s musical batteries too. Following Years & Years’ second album – 2018’s Palo Santo – the third album was proving hard to pin down. “I’ve been trying to make this album for about 18 months at this point, stopping and starting, listening to all the songs and... it’s just not feeling relevant any more.” Alexander had always loved Russell T Davies’ work, so when he heard Davies was making a new TV show he “had to be in it. I would just jump at the chance to work with him. And that was before I read the script.” Years & Years had just finished touring Palo Santo and, to Alexander, it felt like the stars had aligned.

While the anxiety of performing queer sex scenes might have been particularly exposing for a gay man like Alexander, there were huge benefits for him being in a cast and crew that were predominantly LGBTQ+. “It was a revelation. I’ve never been on a set with so many queer people. I’ve never even worked with a gay director, so it was a completely new experience.” Plus, being asked to play part of a group of gay best friends, portrayed predominantly by gay actors, meant the chemistry came very quickly: “We understood these characters [with a] kind of shorthand that gay people understand.”

An inclusive, comfortable environment was beneficial for more than just sex scenes and simulating a decade of friendship. It’s A Sin also required its cast to grapple with the issue of HIV and aids, not just as a part of the furniture – as we do in the 21st century, with our knowledge of viral loads, sleeping with undetectable partners and new medications such as Prep – but really putting a forgotten part of British queer history under the lens, who it affected and how it changed the LGBTQ+ community irrevocably. “It’s an issue that is deeply surrounded by stigma and there’s a lot of trauma there and a lot of fear,” Alexander explains. “I know, personally, it was an area that I was scared to really engage with.”

He mentions that just before filming he made friends with an older gay couple at his gym and in talking about the show with them he was offered a rare opportunity to hear about personal experiences of the aids crisis. “It can be so difficult as a gay person to feel like you have intergenerational support,” says Alexander. “Elders are so important in our community. You can get so much from the people who have gone through so much before and fought that fight.”

For Alexander and the cast, It’s A Sin was a rare opportunity: a chance to be brought together with a whole group of men and women who were there at the time and who were willing to share their experiences with them. “I feel so lucky that I got to engage with that and keep learning. I was just scratching the surface and there are so many stories you can tell from this period. It’s impacted us all the way until now and it will in the future.”

Starring in It’s A Sin has also changed what Years & Years’ third album is going to sound like. After the initial writer’s block, Alexander says, he focused instead on the music of the show (Bronski Beat, Kelly Marie, the titular song by Pet Shop Boys) “and it really took my mind back to the club” – especially in the midst of a pandemic, when the queer nightlife venues that are the backbone of our community are so desperately missed.

“All the music I wanted to listen to in lockdown was high energy. It was dance floor. It was club music.” This was the music that had played such a huge role in his early life in London, had inspired the first Years & Years album and a genre that owes a great debt to the LGBTQ+ community. “I think at their heart, lots of these songs are about joy despite crushing pain. I just thought, ‘God, imagine hearing “I Feel Love” on the dance floor for the first time.’ What a transcendent experience that would be.”

‘ELDERS ARE SO IMPORTANT IN OUR COMMUNITY. YOU CAN GET SO MUCH FROM THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE FOUGHT THAT FIGHT’

And so Alexander went into the studio – as soon as it was safe to do so – and created a bunch of new songs. Is it easy to find collaborators behind the scenes who get it when he says, “I want it to feel like Britney meets Rihanna meets Hot Chip via New Order”?

“It can be a challenge to find someone that really understands,” admits Alexander. He recalled being sent round the songwriters and producers in Los Angeles that all artists are sent round at a certain point, “And some of those people are amazing – some amazing queer people as well – but predominantly... You know, they’re straight, so it can be quite challenging.”

Feeling safe with his collaborators hasn’t been an easy journey, but now he’s in a good place for it. He also pointed out that it’s not just queers who can understand his vision: his bandmates are straight, he points out – “I really believe in working with straight people! Some of my best friends are straight!” – and his frequent collaborator, the producer Mark Ralph, “is a real ally to us gays”, who was always willing to vibe along to Paris Hilton singles with him.

A new sound – a queerer sound – isn’t just a risk in a world where Alexander’s performances are held to double standards and the linchpins of queer culture can still be seen as synonymous with perversion. The impossible standards queer work is held to don’t just come from the straight world: gay men can be terrible recipients of work designed for them too.

Russell T Davies has dealt with it his entire career: “There’s the problem of lack of representation, but there’s the problem that when you are represented, it’s just not seen,” he explained when I spoke to him recently. “You just learn to cope. I worry about it. I probably worry about it more than I say here, but at the end of the day it’s never stopped me writing the next thing.” But he gets it because he, too, is a gay man who consumes art and he sees the same biases coming out when he watches other queer-centric work.

Yet he was amazed that artists younger than him are still dealing with the same crises: “It’s what comes with being a minority. It’s what comes of oppression and you kind of expect this to pass. But then you talk to young people like Olly, who’s a different generation from me, and you find them thinking the same things,” Davies said. “I was lucky to have my training during an age when you’d be lucky to get one review in the Times. Now you live in a world of reviewers.”

When I ask Alexander if he worries how gay men will respond to a gay artist’s work, it is no easier for him to respond than it was for Davies. “Oh, God, you’re making my heart race now,” he says, breathless. “I should be careful, because I don’t want to demonise anybody. But I tried to really unpack this myself and... I’ll just sort of say it.” It is clear that this is intense for him: his eyes are looking watery as he tries to phrase it delicately.

“I have this – I think irrational – anxiety about gay men tearing me down. And I tried to interrogate that within myself and I think it’s complicated, because a lot of it has to do with internalised phobias and shame, about how I see myself versus how other people see me.” He begins to cry. “What I do know is that I want them to not hate me. And I want to make the community proud. It’s been at the heart of pretty much every decision I’ve ever made. And I don’t know if I’ve always got it right.”

‘I HAVE THIS – I THINK IRRATIONAL – ANXIETY ABOUT GAY MEN TEARING ME DOWN’

It’s tough being an actor asked to shed light and humanity on a complex phase in British LGBTQ+ history; it’s just as tough to be a gay man trying to make pop music that speaks to the queer experience. But Alexander is doing both and, what’s more, he’s being unapologetically queer in the public eye. There aren’t many LGBTQ+ people in the position Alexander is in and it must be exhausting, I suggest, to be expected to speak for the needs and fears of an entire spectrum of sexual and gender identities. After all, he’s just one man who wants to be proud of who he is. “Sometimes, when I feel the most anxious, I have a voice in my head that goes, ‘Oh, Olly, why on earth did you put yourself in this position? You really are not the strong person people think you are.’” But, he says, he is learning he can’t speak for everyone, even if people expect it of him.

Instead, he’s focusing on being proud of what he’s done – the visibility, the audacity, the bravery – rather than the critique of his anxieties or Twitter trolls. “I’m always thinking about me as a teenager and how I’m creating the person I wanted to be in the world. I’m actually doing it! Holy fuck!”

#olly alexander #years & years #yearsandyears #years and years #gq #interviews #fashion #magazines #acting #its a sin #boys #articles #queer #lgbtq #lgbtq+#issues #aids #hiv #music

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askmyfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

My Lilo and Stitch AU Main Languages

Tantalog is the native language of Jumba and Turo in Lilo and Stitch and Stitch! Anime:

A Niga Chan Doonga (But There's Water)

Aba Chooka (Help, #You Right#)

Aba Loocha (Door)

Aba Loosha (There It Is, Gone)

Aba Nootcha (Phone)

Aba Tooka (What About, How About Something Else?, Not This)

Aba Tooky (What's up?)

Abata Iki (Forget It)

Accata (Alright/Clear)

Acha Booka Moopa (That The Best You Can Throw At Me?)

Acha Kaba (Me Too)#

Achaba (Good Idea)

Achiba (Liar)

Achi-Baba (Friend)

Achi-Kaba (Weird, Here They Come, #Iv Got You#)

Achi-Kata (You)

Acoota Chi-Meeto Igatta No Mootah, Nagga To Nala Itume Tidooka. (Angel's Song) (Heed Me, You Are In My Power. Henceforth, Nothing Shall Be Too Cruel Or Too Abominable For You. You Can't Escape.)

Acoota Chi Tay (Your Turn)#

Achooga Moopa (Everyone Attack, #End In Sight, Everyone Go#)

Aga Ba (What Does It Say? Why? Stop)

Aga Bata (Something Much Better)#

Aga Bato (Bring This?, Like This?)

Aga Chaba (Good Luck, Go Get 'Em)

Aga Chiga (Missed Me)

Aga Chu Chiba (What Do You Want Done With (Subject)?)

Aga Do Baba (And That Works?)

Aga Gata (Enough)

Aga Paba Taka (What Just Happened)#

Aga Pobo Takka (Your All Done For)

Aga Tabba (It Can't Be, Can't Do That, Your Done For)

Aga Pobo Takka (Your All Done For)

Aga Tabba (It Can't Be, Can't Do That, Your Done For)

Aga Tagga (Here It Comes)

Aga Takka (There It Goes, There It Is)

Aga Tooga (There It Goes)

Aga Tookie (This Is Awesome, Here We Go)

Agaboo (Oh Well)

Agata (Look At Me)

Agatoo (Then It Happened)

Aggaba (Stop, Let's Do This, Goodbye)

Aggaba Pituga (I Have An Idea)

Ah-Qae Jihad (Blast Him)=

Ahua Shalom Bye (Good Morning)=

Aka Boocha (Let Me Out!)

Aka Chata (Shut Up)

Aka-Choota (Gotta Go, Piece of (Derogatory))

Aka-Choota Tu (You Better Leave)#

Aka Chunga (Don't Worry)#

Akare Asaid (It Looks Scary)=

Aka Taba (Was A Mistake, No You Don't)

Aka Tibi Baba (Something There, There It is)

Aka Toga E Moopa (What Are You Doing Here?)#

Aka Tooka (I Have An Idea)

Akata (Bring It, Show It)

Akatu Bata (These For You)

Akatu Baba (I Can?)#

Akootah (Lets Dig, Lets Go, Right Away, Heed Me)

Akootah Naga Pitu (Heed Me No More Bad)

Aku Bata (That Looks Like It)

Ah-Chooga Moopa (Get Back, Take That)

Allaf (Five)=

Allanet (Fifty)=

Ama-Gata (I'm Fine)

Ama-Taka (Here I Come, #I Want#)

Ama-Take (I'm Taking These)

Annibo (Why Not)

Aroomba Micha Nigicha Aba Tooka (Something Has Happened That Is Very Bad)

Asal (Ball)=

Asafi (Table)=

Ashi Salaam (How Are You?)=

Asyrifah (Excuse Me)=

Ata Bookie (That Hurt)

Ba'aq-quasr (That Is Too Loud)=

Baacraphi (Volleyball)=

Baaheth Jihadi (Fight)=

Baari (Fan)=

Baba Taka (Not Fair)

Bachooga (Bye)

Baka Chika (Back At You)

Baka Zika (Back Off)

Barambah (Monster, Scary)

Bachoota (Safe, Good)

Bacha Iki (Whatever)

Bagata Tay (Make All Better)#

Bajo (Thanks/Agreed)

Baquaa (Toilet)=

Bata Naba Gata (Your (Derogatory))

Bo (Very, Much)

Bo Chifa (I Like It)

Bo Niba (Boyfriend, Girlfriend)

Bo Ninga (Good Food)

Bo Tia (Take That)

Boocha (Bad)

Boochi boo (Target Of Affection)

Boojiga (Searching)

Bookoo (Bye)#

Bootifa (Cool)

Booza (Got Him/Her)

Bon Chiba (Eat This)

Brasmathi (Basket)=

Brinut (Tiny)

Brokuba (Broken)

Bucha Chi Bagga Chan Chiti (Let's Cause Some Havoc)

Bum (Two)

Bupi Runun (Change This)

Butifa (Cool, Good, Beautiful)=

Cama'ahar Teh Tebracres (What Is Your Name?)=

Chaba Ika Pituga (Stupid Head Anyways)#

Chabata (Come And Catch Me)=

Chaggida (Accomplished)

Chagata Questa (Your Done For)

Chappati (Bread)=

Chatti Naba (Where Is My Equipment)

Chi-Chabada (I Promise, On My Honor)

Chi Chitu (Watch Out)

Chi Gata Questa (Your Going To Be Destroyed)

Chi Mitu (Your Going To Get It, #Give It To Me#)

Chi Mitu Nala Questa (Your Going To Be Destroyed)

Chi Mito (Your Going To Get It)

Chiba Chu (Come On You)

Chiga (Then That)

Chiga Baba (Get Back Here)

Chigida (That Way)

Chigi Bay (Darn It) [Caught Peeking Upon Creation In LiloAndStitch2]

Chika (Got You)

Chabba (Enemy)

Chabila (Derogatory)

Chigi Bay (Darn It)

Chigida (Prepared)

Chiti (Immediately)

Chiti No Nuba (Now You Can't Get It)#

Chito (Sleeping)

Chooga (Run)

Choota (Derogatory Phrase)

Cho Waba (I Have This)

Chuchotoo (Worries, Good)#

Chu Bata (Show Off, Stuck Up)

Chu Chomba (Thank You (Very Much))

Chu Gata Meega (Now Your Mine)

Chu Gata (Subject) Meega Questa (Come To Me Or I Will Destroy)

Chu Gata Questa (Now Your Destroyed, Now Its Over)

Chu Juju (Your Not Going Anywhere)

Chu Nitcha (You Missed)

Chu Taba (Take That, And That)

Chubi Iga (Get The Bad Guy)

Chumpy Chibba (Finally, Lets Go, Prove Better)

Chunga (You)

Chungabee (You Go)

Clogga (More)

Comja Ooga (No Cousins)

Cooma Tay (Fascinating)

Coota Ni Guy Igatta (Came To See Big Show)#

Crabba Snabba (Uh Oh)

Crabba No Pugy (Uh No Kidding)#

Creega Migi (Throw Me)

Crichaa (Tenis Court)=

Chaba Naga (It Wasn't Me)

Da Chatti Nay (But I Was, No I Don't)

Dabida (Curious)#

Dagida (All There)

Dagita (All Better)

Deketa (Die, Be Gone)=

Digja De-Baba (Release Him/Her/It)

Dinko Tey Fabba (You Are Fat)=

Do Gaba (Thank You)

Do Chooee Sabicha? (Jealous Are You?)

Doonga (Darn It, On It)

Doonga Haba Blabla (Darn It I Don't Like That)#

Doni Gatchi (Gift)

E Gaja No Fibi (Let's Make Them Pay)

Ecata (Let's See)

Ecata Tikka Tikka (Let's See The Prize)

Echi (Correct)

Eega Chooty (He's Evil)

Eegalagoo (Wow)

Eegata (Darn, Incoming, Let's Do It)

Eela (Fortunately)

Eesta Kuani Wanga Moomba (There Is A Huge Asteroid Coming)

Eeta (That Way)

Egataby (Understood)

El Kayo Tay (Sounds Like Fun)

Emba-Chua (You Said It)

Enjaji (This Will Work)

Enjiba (There)

Enjibay (That)

Enjibida (What Now?)

Esa (Warning, Its)

Esa Faba Abida Loochiday Chigida Daka An Taga (We Have A Big Problem Can You All Help Out?)

Esa Ma Meqa (Who Am I?)

Esa Me Guts (Your Responsible)#

Eqa Ma Coota (Your A Coward)

Fabras (Ache)=

Feeboo (Tired, Sleepy)=

Feeboogoo (Bring It On)

Frovo No Pugy (You Got In The Way, #Messed With#)

Gaba (What?)

Gaba Bo Taka (What Are You Doing?)

Gaba Chitchu (What Did You Say?)

Gaba Chooka (Where Were You?)

Gaba Do Cootay Chaba (Why Are You Dressed So Strange?)

Gaba Gee (Who?)

Gaba Ik (What's That?)

Gaba Ika (What's That?)

Gaba Ika Tasoopa (Whats The Big Deal)

Gaba Itsa Sasuba (What Time Is It)

Gabagi (Pick It Up)

Gablia (I Can?)

Gagitalk (All Clear)

Gamboo Bo Gabi (Release Me, Don't Move, Help Me)

Ganti Batiba (Get Away From Me)

Gashta (Understand?)

Gata Noby (We'll Crush Them(It, Her, Him))

Gatachoo (Cannonball)

Gatchi Nosty (Are you Sure?)

Geetcha (Klutz)

Genga Chi (That's Not You, Cheer Up) [Cheering Up Lilo In LiloAndStitch2]

Gengiba (Wonderful)

Gengibay (Good)

Gengibay Karta (Don't Worry I Took Care Of)

Gengenjiba (Wonderful)

Goobaja (Lets Go)

Gooba Ki (Whats The Point?)

Gootcha (Hello, Hey)

Go Pimca Chinti (I'm Here)

Goo Bata To Patchi (We're Coming Up On Him)

Got Radock (Way Is Clear)

Graazi (Right)=

Haba Gaba (You There?, You In There?)

Habaja (Wait)

Habata Iki (That's It)

Habida (Understand)#

Haga Bata (What Is Here?)#

Haga Blabla (Feeling Sick)#

Haga Taga (I Will)

Haga Tay (Your Help Is Appreciated)#

Hagata (Here)

Hagata Chooga (Come Get Me)

Hagatu Chooga (Come Get Me)

Hagrea Sofia (Mall)=

Hajiba (Ready)

Hajmha Sihkism (Enthusiasm)=

Hakkiah (One)=

Hakri Deika (Debris)=

Hak Tienet (One Hundred)=

Halal (Toast)=

Halebye (Taxi)=

Hama Taka (Come Get, We'll Use)#

Hamacha (Tasty)#

Hamicha (Tasty)#

Hapdelup (Up)=

Harash (Trash)=

Hassiniyadh (Sea)=

Haza (Here)

Heegata No Feebee (Don't Give Up, You Can Do It)=

Hoogala Lana Queena Boom (We're Evacuating Before The Boom)

Hoogita (Set)

Hoo-gata (I See It)

Hoo-gatu Gogo (Still More To Do)

Huaa Allah (Master)=

Huaa Awazi (Spirit)= Hum (One)

Huznet (Twenty)=

Huzziuh (Two)=

Iba (This)

Ichiba (Sighted, #There It Is#)

Ichi Ta Nuba (Ta Da)

Igaba (Really?, #Get Him#)

Igeeba (Hopefully, Approaching, Get Away)

Igatta (No Way, I Agree There Is No Way, Victory, Success, #Where#)

Igatta No Feebee (He Won't Win Again, This Time You'll Get Him)

Iga (He)

Iga Bachoota (Your Good)

Iga Batooga (Your Going Down)

Iga Do Achi Kopa (You Should Look Over There)#

Iga Me (Give Me)

Iga Me Na Guala (Now You Pay Me?)

Iga Naku (That's Outstanding)

Iga Pituga (Bad Person)#

Iga Pitugi (He's Bad)

Igi Ba (Do It)

Igi Taka (Up Here)

Igi Tooka (You Help)

Igaba (Check It Out)

Igame (I'll Fix, Give To Me)

Igato (Stop It)

Igato Gogo (Stop Before We Go)

Igeeba (Let's Go Now, Wonderful)

Ih (Yes)

Ih Too Jay (You Too)

Ikatta (Gone, Look There, This Way)

Ika Na Nista Chi (What's Going On?)

Ika Spubata Gata (I've Got It Now)

Ika Patooba (Baldy)=

Ika Patooga (Let's Do It, #Be That Way, Stupid Head#)

Ika Patootie (Stupid Head)=

Ika Taba Loocha (It's This Way)

Ikeeba (Sure Did)

Iki Bata Bata (You Know What We Should Do)#

Iki Bobo (You Don't Do Anything Bad, Nothing Bad)

Iki Patiga (That Good?)

Iki Pataba (Your Right)

Iki Pa (Sounds Good)

Iki Patchooga (You Fool)

Iki (Your)

Iky (Yuck)

Iky Bahwah (Come Back)

Imhaater (Computer)=

Inga Toosh Mishta (Your Crazy)

Iniga Wipo (Get Rid Of Him)

Injibay (That)=

Iname Me Guaba Te (I'm Taking You Shopping)#

Ingiba (Welcome)

Ipu (Take Away)

Isa (Is, Am, Are (To Be)=

Ishita (Fool)

Itaga Pitugi (Kiss My Pitugi)

Ita Mitay (Look There)

Itchaba Kunika (Team Up?)

Itchu Nawa (Why Not Me?)

Itishiba (Foul)

Itume (Abomination)

Jan (Four)

Jaalba (Something)=

Jaba Ramid Nye Hassin (Long Time No See)=

Jalipaa (Radio)=

Jal Wadis (Rubble)=

Japdelup (Down)=

Jerudai (Eight)=

Jerunet (Eighty)=

Jhua Tehrqua (Good Night)=

Jigiba (Villain)

Jo Pigi Cons Patuba (Now It's Around Here Somewhere)

Jua'aquad (City)=

Jugaar Juice (Juice)=

Ka-Meega Ka Chooga Ta Weesta (Leave This To Me I'll Get Him(Her, It))

Kaba (Bad)

Kabchithi (Eggs)=

Kadoonboon (Thank Goodness)

Kadoona Meega (Where/What Am I?)

Kafu Ha (Not Fair, Cheater, (Derogatory))

Kaki Mienna (You Can Do It)

Kali Ashol (Accomplished)=

Kamitcha (Awesome Food)#

Kanasha (Tried To Stop)

Kanet (Seventy)=

Kaphong (Monster)=

Kantijibe Zi-Zi (I'll Fix It)

Kapu (Imprisoned, In Trouble, Captured) (Hawaiian For Forbidden) Kata (Watch This)

Kata Boo Tay (Look What It Did)

Kata-goo (Did It)

Kata Baka-Dooka (Can I Destroy)

Katcha (Trash)

Katcha Booga (Trashing It)

Katchaka (Broken, Trash)

Kachi Noosty (You Sure?)

Katchooba (Oops)

Katchoobida (Here They Are)

Katchooga Naga (Your Wrong) Kavi (Seven)=

Keeba (And This)

Keesha (Because)#

Keesha Mi Guts (Positive, #Your Sure#) Keeta (Wrecked)

Keetcha (Six, Next)

Kenjuju (Ate, Eaten)

Kha Araimi Shol (Absent)=

Khalido (Notebook)=

Khalifaud (Six)=

Khalinet (Sixty)=

Khodro Esafhan (Car)=

Ki Tooga Naga (I'm Outta Here)

Kodain (Bookcase)=

Koobaja (My Mistake)

Koogoobita (Show)

Koraadami (Books)=

Koota Tay (Intruder's Spotted)

Kurdaic (Cake)=

Leecha Nowa (Much Farther?)#

Le Je Impordement (It Is Captured)=

Maathinya (Luggage)=

Magaba (And That)

Magata (There He Is, Right)

Maladhi (Television)=

Maqa Jojo (Look Here)

Maqa Maqa (Look, Quickly)

Maqa Tay (Time For A Beating)

Maqa Zika (I Take)

Matyr (Cousin)=

Me Gata (Warning You)

Meega - Me/I/I'm

Meega Achi Kaba (I'll Do It)

Meega Boota (I'm Bored)

Meega Chaba (I'm Better)

Meega Choota (I'm (Derogatory Phrase))

Meega Chuba (I See, I'm Better)

Meega Chula (I Watch)

Meega Donga Igatta (I'll Check It Out)#

Meega Hoogata (I'll Go)

Meega Ita Googoobita (I Am Going To Be Entertainer)

Meega Itume (That Is Abominable To Me)

Meega Naga Chita Coota (Not Good Enough For Me)

Meega Nala Questa (I Will Destroy)

Meega-O-Itume (Get Away From Me)

Meega Pojo Naga (Won't Stop Me)#

Meega Taka In Putoba (Can I Still Help?)#

Meega Trandoca (Change Me Back)

Meeo Dakka Ingatta Poju Nagga Nagga (I Can Catch An Experiment Without You)

Meepa (Fast)

Meqa Naba Gatay (I'll Figure It Out)

Miki Miki (Gimmie)=

Mocheeka (Mine)

Mockeecha (Mine, Your Mine)

Moogata (Found You)

Mootah (Evil)

Morcheeba (Very Nice)

Muchoo Hoogata (Very Little Place, Very Little)

Muhaari (Pool)=

Muquad (Everything)=

Naba Da (Don't Do It)

Naga (No)

Naga Baba Boocha (Not Good Is Bad)

Naga Bi Begeta (I'm Not Hungry)

Naga Bo Chifa (Don't Like It)

Naga Boodoo (Don't Want To Do It)

Naga Bootifa (Not Cool)

Naga Busa# (Think Nothing Of It)

Naga Cheeka (You Missed)

Naga Chi Bo Chifa (None For Me Thank You)*

Naga Chu Ta Chu (No More Evil)#

Naga Hoo-gata (Don't See Anything)

Naga Igaba Chua (No More Running)

Naga Kata (Don't Do It)

Naga Kata-goo (Diddn't Do It)

Naga Meega Kaba (I'm Not Bad)

Naga Meega Deeka (Don't Make Me Do It)

Naga Meega Pokuba (Never Make Anything Better Than Me)

Naga Moba (Don't Want To See Go)#

Naga Nota (Don't Know)

Naga Pataba (Not Listening)

Naga Pita (I Don't Like Doing This)

Naga Su Nika (Can't Hear Anything)

Naga Takabah (No Way)

Naga Tay (Could Not)

Nagga Tikka Tay (Your Not Smarter)

Naga Todo (Do Not)

Naga To Kaba (Not Coming Down)

Naga Tu (Not You, Not For You)

Naguala (Money)

Najaaladi Diwali (Bomb)=

Nani Gati (Stay Here)

Natta Taba (Take That)

Nigoba Naba Chooba (Play The Part)

Ninga (Food)

No Jaba (Unexpected)

No Waqa (This Hair)

Noogy Bay (Frustration)

Nooga Shaa (Your Fault)

Nu Pujee (Clean)#

O Utymain (Useful)

Ochaka (Oh No)

Ochika (Agreed)#

Oga Gata (Bring It On)

Oga Taba Bring It On)

Ogi Gigi (So Small)

Ohufi (Greetings)=

Oka Kata (Didn't know)

Okie Taka (Okie Dokey)

Okie Taba (Okay Lets Go)

Okiga (Think About It)#

Oobaga (What The)

Oochiba (Attention)

Ookaba (For You, Here)

Ookata (Not, Something Went Wrong)

Ookata Yoshi (Something Does Not Want Us Here)

Ooga (Smash)

Ooga Feeboo (So Tired)

Oogata (Darn, Warning, Take This, Important)

Ooga Taba (Something Is Happening, #Unfortunate#)

Ooga Taba Gaba Ik Naga Chiba Iky (This Will Not Do It Is Hideous)#

Ooga Taba Choota (Something Is Happening With The Choota)

Ooga Taka (Whats Happening, Stop That)

Ooja Ba (Pretty)

Ooja Mageebay (Hope It Will)

Otigy No Iba (Heard That)

Paathi Bras (Soap)=

Pamsha (Probably)

Pano (Subject) Ishka (But (Subject) Said)

Parvaaci (Roller Skate)=

Pasawa (See Ya)=

Pee (Five)

Peligiba (Please)

Pencha (Done)

Phaa Thouy (Cereal)=

Phaa Thoy Gho (Run)=

Pichu (Your Right)

Pita So Naja Ingiba (Then I Flew Around) [Description of Stitch's dream LiloAndStitch2] Pitcha (Done)

Pitu (Bad)

Porchuba (Probably)

Por Man Chiki (Your Mom Could Do Better)*

Poovoos (Something Else)-

Praajat (Tub)=

Prepshi (Soda)=

Preshi Moothi (Skateboard)=

Pujara (Boy)=

Pu Man Chiki (Your Mom Could Do Better)

Pusha (School)

Quan (Destruction)

Quala Chifa (Not Satisfactory)#

Quala Chifa Pi Nolo (That Is Really A Shame)#

Quana Chi Doonga Fava No Pugy (We're All Wet Lets Dry Off)#

Questa (Derogatory Phrase, Destroy)

Quimmish (Sure)

Raban Jiba (How About That)

Rah'quadon (Achieve)=

Ranga Neega Questa Tingu (I Am Fed Up With You)

Ranga Pitugi (My Backside)

Robaapaskit (Learn)=

Ro Bata Chito (I Was Sleeping)

Rumba (Hey)

Saari (Girl)=

Sabaza (Surprise)

Safiya (Bed)=

Salsa (Follow Me, This Way)=

Saza (Incoming, Threat, Danger, Bring It, There)

Shaalthabye (Experience)=

Shiralli (Watch)=

Shirq (Left)=

Shol Asahiah (Abandoned)=

Sibata (Finished)

Smick (Wrong)#

Smidik (Unfortunately)#

Smish (Sure)

Soka (Sorry)

Snagga (Lost)

Snagga Booza (Lost Him/Her)

Speeni Gatu (Show Off)

Spiggi Bay (Darn It, Broke It)

Spubata (I'll Teach You, Smells Like, Come Back Here)

Spubata Iky (Stop Making A Mess)#

Sqeeba (Squirt)

Taaksi (Capsule)=

Taalsa (Sink)=

Tagga Gati (Where Am I?)

Tai Chi Sheng (Exercise)=

Takiba (Better)#

Takka (Thanks, #Trouble#)

Tebrica (Pencil)=

Tel Ashal (Nine)=

Tele Sharov (Four)=

Tienet (Ten)=

Ti Maqa Nai (I'll Take Care Of You)#

Tiznet (Three)=

Tiba (Alright)

Tikka (Smarts)

Tikku (Smarts)

Tiki Baba (Sure Is)

Tinjibee (Don't Worry)

Ting (Three)

Tingu (You, It, He, She, Ect.)

Tingu Jo Faba (Your Fat, Your Also Fat)

To Kaba (What Is Happening?)

Todaga (Away)#

Todo (Do)

Toga Meega Pitugi (Look At My Butt)

Togga Chata (Where Am I?)

Toobaga (Moron, Idiot)=

Toochotoo (Land)

Toogie (We)

Toogie Naga Chifo (Your Not Doing This To Us)

Tooka Sabusa (We Have Trouble)

Tookaba (We Both Thank You)#

Tookie (We)

Tookie Bawabah (Lets Get Started)

Tookie Bawabah Achi-Baba Maqa Maqa Mimichi Bonaba Iki Bobo (Lets Go Friends Follow My Lead To Battle)

Trang Nang (House)=

Tsi'Cong (Bang)=

Tubija (Your Fault)

Tu Bligida (She Is)

Tu Micha (Time To Go)

Una Skally Boosh (Where Is It?)

Waba (Look Here)

Wasa (Whats Up?)

Watugi (What Happened)

Yadelep (Accuse)=

Yaga Nooba (Taking You Down)

Yagiba (Yeah)

Yana Polo Iki Bobo (Either She Drives Or I Drive)

Yu Porma Dissy (Your Mother)=

Yuuga (You)=

Zaghdad (Android)=

Ziba (Or This)

Zitnet (Thirty)=

Ziz-Ziz (Electricity, Sparks)=

This is the result of my in depth study of the language known as Tantalog through our good friend Stitch. Culminated over several years by obsession alone this has been gathered with hundreds of words and translated to best the best of my ability for you all now. Some words are repeated with multiple spellings where appropriate, and some phrases are divided up for ease. This is the key for this so that you better understand:

Word (Translation)

Ending with a #: Translated from 'Stitch! the Anime".

Ending with a =: Gathered from online resources, honestly I don't think many of these are very correct.

English

Kweltikwan

Japanese

Hawaiian

Plorgonarian

Other Alien languages

Other Earth languages

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carol-thirteen · 5 years ago

Note

Ooh I love a good enemies to lovers trope

u got it hun 🤍 this is slightly longer than i thought it would be so i hope you like it

natasha brushed you off every chance she got after you screwed up her plan during a mission. she’d planned it to the letter and had been instructed to let you assist. she gave you pointers and strict instructions.

but you went on instinct and ever since then any attention she gave you was withdrawn and harsh.

fury did not agree with this. you were part of a team, a bigger picture, feuds should be settled.

natasha struggled with his words. that it was up to her to make amends. you knew a big mission was coming up, this time organized by fury and clearly, had you all working close together.

she stepped into the room you were alone in, a meeting room. the long table you sat infront covered in papers and stray pens and pencils. sketches, designs of technology. she assumed tony had you working on something given your background.

“fury has us all on a mission next week.” she started, and somehow you knew where it was going.

“i know,” you responded. “god only knows why he chose to put you on it as well.” you muttered

“hold on, what did you just say?” natasha frowned.

“nothing,” your focus still on the sketch infront of you. pencil scratching on the paper.

“well clearly its something you’re too afraid to repeat.”

you scoffed. “what do you want with me natasha?” she hated when you used her first name, wait. was it hate?

natasha closed her eyes for a moment as she spoke. “we need to be a team. so this,” she gestured between the two of you, even though she assumed you couldn’t see. you could, through the glass window, natasha’s figure was faint. “this needs to change.”

“i dont expect you to change,” you shurgged. “i don’t want you to.”

natasha was taken back by your response, but it was true. the two of you had gotten so used to being angry and distant with each other, it would be weird if it was anything but.

“you did exactly what i would have done.” natasha admitted and you turned uour head to face her. she sat down by you, one chair sitting between you empty. “i can’t be angry at you for that anymore. you saved alot of people.” she recalled running numbers and aftermath of the incident. “maybe even more than if we had followed through with my plan.”

you let natasha continue, her tone a simple tell that she was not finished.

“i didn’t know you, you came in and did better than me. i didn’t know how to react.” she huffed a hint of a smile on her lips. her lips, you had forgotten how soft they looked, especially when she wasn’t yelling. especially when they were moving slowly and you could see the way they moved with each syllable, each letter. “i admire your actions that day.”

and for a moment, your heart fluttered.

“your skills are quite...”

your eyebrow flickered upwards at her voice again. you realize how hadn’t said anything in a while, maybe you should.

“unique,” she finished.

“mhmm,” you saw a glimmer in her eye. that glimmer was natasha remembering your swift movements, the body strength you must have had to take on that many men. see something you like, romanoff, you thought.

“yes.” natasha said firmly.

“what?” your eyes widened.

“now that the overwhelming and maybe slightly unnecessary hatred has worn off,” natasha used her food to hook under the base of the chair, rolling it on ita wheels to the side. “i feel that we could get on quite well in a less,” she thought for a moment as she stood up. “professional setting.”

you felt your cheeks blush and you could hear your heartbeat, feel it in your ears. this was unexpected but definitely not unwelcomed.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow imagine #black widow x reader

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

Text

Fortuna Inversis

Kaon. It’s an open, festering wound on the otherwise generally peaceful and prosperous planet of Cybertron; a city-state prostrate under the heel of the tyrannical Lord Straxus. Everyone knows this, and no one knows it more than the inhabitants of its closest neighbor, the city-state of Vos. Kaon is a place of energy deprivation, filth, poverty, and misery; in short, it is a place Vosians go out of their way to avoid. So how did a well-bred Vosian noblemech like me end up in one of Kaon’s hovels? That, I am afraid, is a rather complicated story, and for you to fully understand it, I need to start at the beginning. My name is Succendam Off de domo Domini Cael (or, for those of you who do not speak Vosian, Blast Off of the House of Space), the creation and only heir of Dominus Spatium and Domine Astrum.

My creators were extremely wealthy, arguably even wealthier than the royal family, and they were a regular presence in the court of Rex Ventus, the King of Vos; however, they were also spacefaring explorers, and, as such, they were killed in a particularly unpleasant spaceship explosion when I was four stellar cycles away from the age of legal majority. It was a tragedy, of course, but as they had been away from home frequently for most of my life prior to that point, it did not affect me as much as it might have, and upon their deaths, I became the master of the Cael estate and its workers. Not long afterwards, I hired a mech from Kaon to serve as my clerk. He was quiet and efficient, and generally did good work, but he was always filthy and clearly half-starved, not to mention a war-frame, and that did not fit in with the image I wanted my staff to project. Thus, I fired him; which proved to be stressful for both of us. When I informed him that he was being let go, he started creating quite a scene, begging me to keep him on for the sake of his family and generally acting horribly undignified. In the end, I grew tired of trying to reason with him and had my guards remove him from my estate. After a few days, I forgot about him altogether, little imagining that we would encounter each other again, and my life progressed quite smoothly for the next two stellar cycles. I even arranged a sponsalia (that is, an engagement) for myself with Illusion of the Furtim Line, a female from the Towers District. But my happiness proved to be transient. Just a few solar cycles after I reached sedecim (sixteen) stellar cycles of age, I was baselessly arrested for treason. Sure, I may have made a few….inopportune….statements about Rex Ventus’ ability to rule, but I had never plotted to overthrow him, and everyone knew it. As he soon made clear, his real interest was not whether or not I had betrayed him but rather to see if he could get his filthy hands on my land and holdings….and irritatingly, because he was the king and thus the head of the judiciary system of Vos, it soon became apparent that he could do just that. On the pretext of incredibly flimsy evidence (even the king’s young creation, Princeps Stella Clamor- Prince Starscream- remarked on the flimsiness of it), I was found guilty of treason, and stripped of my title, my lands, and my holdings. Ventus made a show of mercy, claiming that he would spare me from execution because of my youth. Then he banished me to the slums of Kaon with no servants, no Shanix, and no energon….which, had fate not intervened, would have been nothing more than a prolonged death sentence. So much for his mercy. Not long after I was abandoned in Kaon, I was approached by a mech whom, I would soon learn, was one of Lord Straxus’ Enforcers.

“What are you doing out at night, Empty?” he spat. While I could understand Neocybex fairly well, my ability to speak it was rather limited. Most nobles (and their servants) could speak Vosian, after all, so there had been little need for me to practice speaking the language. Thus, my response to his question was less than elegant.

“I do wrong?” I stammered in broken Neocybex.

“What’s the matter, Empty? Can’t you speak?” the Enforcer mocked

“Empty?” I echoed, utterly confused. I knew the word-in Vosian, it was vaccus -but he seemed to be using it as a noun rather than an adjective.

“Yeah, an Empty. That’s what you are…a worthless piece of gutter trash. Although if you’re too stupid to know what that means, then maybe you’re also too stupid to know that no one is allowed out after curfew. If you don’t get inside in the next ten minutes, I’m taking you to prison. You got that, Empty?”

“Yes,” I replied. With that, I bolted away from the mech and started searching for some way to get inside before I got thrown into a Kaonite prison, which I was certain would make the one I had been locked up in in Vos seem like my palatial estate by comparison. After a few minutes, I stumbled upon a small building-a hovel, really-and, in desperation, banged on the door.

“ Fac me introire! Ergot placet mihi! ” (Let me in! Please, let me in!) I was in such a panic that I didn’t even stop to consider the fact that whoever was inside probably didn’t speak Vosian. After a few seconds, the door was opened by an exhausted-looking war-frame, one who was startlingly familiar.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he barked in Neocybex.

“Need roof...help,” I replied, now desperately wishing that I was more fluent in the language.

“ Vosiane loqui possum. Quod requires? ” (I can speak Vosian. What do you need?) the other mech asked, surprising me. His rough, thickly accented voice was also familiar, but I still couldn’t place him.

“ Et opus tectumque . Quaeso! ” (I need shelter. Please!) I replied. The war-build examined me, and then glared at me coldly.

“Et nota videtur. Quod nomen tibi est? ” (You seem familiar. What is your name?)

“ Succendam Off de domo Domini Cael ,” I replied….and just as I said this, I realized why the war-build seemed so familiar. He was the same one whom I had fired from his position as my clerk two stellar cycles previously. A sense of dread washed over my spark. This was not good.

“Quid si ego auxiliatus sum tui? Et accensus sunt me, cum scires haec non erat familiaris. ” (Why should I help you? You fired me unjustly, even though you knew I had a family.) the war-build said coldly.

“ Paenitet! Paenitet-” (I’m sorry! I’m sorry…) I exclaimed, stopping short when I realized that I had never bothered to learn his name.

“ Impetus. Impetus sit nomen meum. Cum tibi, ne quidem sciunt nomine meo: ego auxiliatus sum tibi, non. Exite!” ( Onslaught . Onslaught is my name. Since you do not even know my name, I will not help you. Go away.) In complete panic, I fell to my knees.

“ Amabo, noli me manere. Faciam quod vis facere! ” (Please, let me stay! I’ll do anything you want!) I pleaded.

“ Quidquid ?” ( Anything ?) Onslaught asked.

“ Ita, quod, ” (Yes, anything.) I replied. Onslaught seemed to ponder this for a few seconds, then pulled me to my feet.

“‘Ut maneat in domo in tribus conditionalibus. Primo, vos mos reperio a officium, mercedem tuam super me, et convertam. Habeo tres alere velis nobiscum sic oportet operam. Secundam, maneat, si tu non es membrum de familia. Et erit servum, et sic potest haberi. Tertius, et sic loquetur ad me, domine . Mecum adhuc volo?” (You may stay in my home, on three conditions. First, you will find a job and turn over your wages to me. I have three brothers to support, so if you wish to stay with us, you must contribute financially. Second, if you stay, you are not a member of the family. You will be a servant and be treated as such. Third, you will address me as “sir.” Do you still wish to stay with me?) he asked. Naturally, I was horrified by the conditions that he had set, but because the alternative was even worse, I was forced to swallow my pride and accept them.

“ Ita domine. Habeo alia optio, ” (Yes, sir. I have no other choice.) I said. Onslaught nodded.

“In that case, you can come in. You will speak Neocybex from now on.”

“I...try, sir,” I replied. Onslaught nodded, and mercifully did not comment on my broken Neocybex. Then he led me inside the shack of a building he called his home, and I was shocked by the squalor inside. There was a table, three recharging centers, and four chairs, crammed into a space that was smaller than the storage closets on my estate. Other than that, there was no furniture-no washracks, no energon dispenser, nothing! In place of those essentials were a third grown mech who clearly transformed into a tank, a grey youngling whose rotors marked him as a helicopter, and the tiniest sparkling I had ever seen. He was bright yellow and had enormous purple optics, and he appeared to turn into a ground-based vehicle of some sort, though I wasn’t sure of what type.

“These are my brothers, Brawl, Vortex, and Swindle,” Onslaught said, as he pointed to the tank, the youngling, and the sparkling in turn.

“Who’s that, Onslaught?” the tank, Brawl, asked. He was exceedingly loud, and I could tell right from the beginning that he was going to be a major irritant.

“This is Blast Off of the House of Cael,” Onslaught replied.

“The rich jerk who fired you? What’s he doing here?”

“I’m not entirely certain of that, Brawl, but given the fact that he, a very wealthy, very arrogant mech, begged me to allow him to take shelter in what he probably thinks is a shack, I’d guess that he has run into a disaster of some kind,” Onslaught replied. When he said this, I realized for the first time just what I had done. I had agreed to work as an unpaid servant in exchange for being allowed to take shelter in a hovel !

“We can barely keep ourselves fueled; why’re we givin’ some of our energy and our home to a rich, spoiled jerk?” Brawl asked.

“We aren’t “giving” Blast Off anything. This is probably a foreign concept to him, but rest assured-from now on, he’s going to have to earn every drop of energon we give him,” Onslaught replied. Although he was ostensibly speaking to his brother, it was clear that Onslaught was telling me something as well: namely, that if I didn’t please him, I would not get to refuel.

“Where’s he gonna recharge?” This question came from Vortex. The question being something that I, too, was interested in, I turned to Onslaught for the answer.

“There isn’t enough space for him to recharge on the floor, at least not without us tripping over him on a constant basis, the recharging center you share with Swindle is far too small for another sparkling, let alone a shuttle of his size, and my recharging center barely fits me. Thus, he will have to share Brawl’s recharging center,” Onslaught replied.

“ What ?” Brawl and I exclaimed simultaneously. Vortex giggled.

“Now you know how I feel having to share a recharger with Swindle,” he said to his older brother. Brawl growled, and I backed away from him, but the small helicopter just giggled again.

“Vortex, go back to recharge,” Onslaught said.

“But I’m not tired! And Swindle kicks really hard in recharge,” Vortex whined, gesturing at the unconscious sparkling. How that sparkling managed to stay in recharge with Brawl and Vortex shouting around him, I did not and do not understand.

“I know that sharing a recharger is unpleasant, Vortex, but we don’t have enough Shanix or enough space to get you your own. If you don’t recharge properly, you’ll be at risk for developing a virus that we wouldn’t be able to afford to treat. Please at least make an effort,” Onslaught said gently. Vortex pouted, but he climbed onto the tiny recharging center regardless. Evidently, he had been lying about not being tired, as, only a few minutes later, he was clearly in recharge. Once he was assured that the youngling was resting, Onslaught turned back to Brawl and me.

“It’s very late, so it would be wise for the three of us to get some rest, too. I’ll see you both in the morning,” he said. With that, he went to his own recharging chamber and was almost immediately dead to the world, leaving my-shudder-new companion and me staring awkwardly at each other.

“Just my luck, havin’ to share a recharger with a prissy little snob,” Brawl muttered.

“I...not like….either,” I replied, mortified by how poor my spoken Neocybex was. Brawl shot me an odd look.

“Why’re you talkin’ funny, Prissy?” he asked. I scowled at him, as I did not at all appreciate him calling me “prissy”. It was hardly my fault that I had been bred to be disgusted by the squalor that these brothers lived in!

“I speak Vosian. I...not good...speaking...Neocybex,” I explained, inwardly fuming at how unfair it was that I was expected to adjust to the language used by these plebeians.

“Oh. Okay then. Which side of the recharger do you want? I ain’t gonna like it regardless, so it don’t matter none to me,” Brawl asked. I idly wondered why he insisted on butchering his own language before replying.

“Left,” I replied. I had no desire to be trapped in between the tank and a wall.

“Fine. Just so you know, Prissy, I snore. Hope you don’t mind,” Brawl said as he got onto his recharging center. I very much did mind, but, under the circumstances, there was nothing I could do but wish fervently that I was anywhere but in the slums of Kaon and follow him to the recharging center. I gingerly joined the tank on the center, glad that the lighting was too poor for me to see how filthy they both probably were, and struggled to enter recharge. It seemed as though every time I was about to do so, Brawl’s engines decided to rumble noisily, and then, as though that wasn’t unpleasant enough, he eventually rolled over in such a way that he pinned my arm to the recharging center’s slab. This was, as one might imagine, quite painful, and I cried out, but no one reacted. Evidently, they were accustomed to recharging through a racket. After what seemed like an eternity of discomfort, exhaustion eventually took over and I fell into recharge.

“Wake up! You have work to do!” I checked my chronometer, and was startled to find that it was only 4:30 in the morning.

“ Suss etiam mane, ” (It’s too early.) I protested. I was not fully awake, and, as such, my CPU had not yet fully registered that I was no longer at home. Then my optics focused, I saw Onslaught, and the events of the previous night rushed back to me. I groaned in a mixture of exhaustion and disgust, and then quickly got to my feet. A quick perusal of the room (my processor simply refused to accept it as a building) revealed that Onslaught, Brawl, and Vortex were already awake. The tiny sparkling was still asleep, but then, he wasn’t even out of his first frame. Clearly, then, and much to my distaste, I was going to have to become an early riser.

“I had better not have to wake you up again, Blast Off. As one of my employers told me, it’s ‘not my job to coddle the hired help’,” Onslaught snapped. The fact that I had been the employer in question made the whole situation even more mortifying.

“Yes, sir,” I replied weakly. I knew that protesting would likely only make my-*shudder*- employer angrier.

“Good. Now, your alternate mode is a shuttle- if a small one- correct?” Onslaught asked.

“Yes, sir. Quare -er,why?” I asked, wondering what my alternate mode had to do with the work that he would expect me to do (whatever that proved to be).

“You have no work experience, and you can barely speak Neocybex. Due to those handicaps, the quickest way for you to get a job is to get you employed as transport of some kind, since, as a shuttle, your alt mode meets the main requirement for that position. Here are the instructions to the transport center; download them to your CPU,” Onslaught replied as he handed me a small chip. I stared at him, mildly appalled. A noblemech working as transport? It was beneath my dignity!

“Hey, Onslaught, I don’t think Prissy likes that idea,” Brawl observed, sounding mildly amused. Vortex snickered.

“Can I call him Prissy, too?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Sure, kid,” Brawl replied.

“You’re in no position to complain about what they call you, Blast Off; or, for that matter, the job I want you to get…..unless, of course, you’d prefer to find energon and shelter on your own,” Onslaught said coldly. I sighed weakly. Any ludicrous hope I had had that I would be able to maintain a semblance of dignity as the-ugh-unpaid servant of a pauper was effectively dashed by what Onslaught had just told me.

“I….be good, sir.” Onslaught nodded.

“In that case, get going. Brawl and I have our own jobs to get to,” he snapped.

“Energon?” I asked. Surely, they didn’t expect me to go job-hunting on an empty fuel tank! Brawl and Vortex laughed.

“Wow, you’re even dumber than Brawl if you expect energon now! We never get to refuel at this time of the solar cycle!” Vortex exclaimed.

“Dumber than Brawl? I’ll show you dumb, tiny!” Brawl bellowed.

“You always do, bro,” Vortex replied, giggling as he ducked to avoid the punch Brawl threw at him. Such barbarism!

“Enough! Blast Off, not everyone is able to refuel whenever they feel like it. This unit is lucky if we get to refuel once a solar cycle, and at present, I have gone without refueling for three solar cycles. Do you understand?” Onslaught asked. I stared at him in shock, wondering vaguely if this was some sort of joke, before realizing that he was serious. If the unit couldn’t even fuel itself properly, no wonder Onslaught needed my labor! Grimly resigning myself to hunger, I nodded.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Then, for the last time, I will tell you to go find a job. I don’t have time to explain everything to you. Brawl and I have work to get to,” Onslaught said. I nodded and quickly left the hovel, then downloaded the directions to the transport station into my CPU, transformed into my alternate mode, and took off. Roughly forty minutes later, I arrived at my destination, which, although not quite as disgusting as the hovel I was currently living in, was still quite filthy. I transformed, landed, and walked inside the building. The inside was just as filthy as the outside. I reluctantly walked over to the window that was marked as “Employment”. Much to my surprise, I was the only one there, so I winced, swallowed my pride for the millionth time in less than 24 hours, and walked closer to the window. The mech on the other side looked at me with very little interest.

“You a shuttle?” he asked. He had a very strange, slightly echo-y voice.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“You’re awful small for a shuttle,” the mech said. In response, I transformed into my alternate mode, which, although much sleeker than the shuttles typically used for-ugh- transport, was still most definitely a shuttle. Once I was confident that the other mech was convinced that I was, indeed, a shuttle, I returned to my robot mode.

“All right, all right, you’ve made your point. Though why a delicate thing like you is applying to work as a garbage shuttle, I couldn’t begin to guess,” the other mech said. It was at this point that I realized just how much of a grudge Onslaught held against me. It was one thing to expect me to work, but this? This was an entirely different level of humiliating.

“Job,” I replied weakly.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he asked.

“Vosian. Not good at Neocybex,” I replied. His optics brightened in apparent understanding.

“You can’t speak Neocybex? That explains it, then. Garbage transports don’t have to talk much-and given how lithe you are, I think I’ve got a good job for you. You see, the Towers District has been requesting more garbage transports, but they say they think our regular employees look too bulky. A sleek shuttle like you would be the perfect fit, and I can finally get my boss off my back about that. What do you say?” he said. My first instinct was to say “absolutely not”, but then I remembered that my life was very dependent on my getting a job.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying not to sound absolutely horrified.

“Great! You’re hired! Follow me!” he exclaimed. I complied, and he led me to what appeared to be a hanger of some sort. A few other shuttles, all much larger than me, were milling about. They were all filthy and covered in grime, and I shuddered. My beautiful, clean plating….

“Can you transform for me?” a different mech asked. I did so, and then he started gathering cans of paint.

“What...you doing?” The new mech laughed .

“Repainting you. All garbage transports have a specific color, and you don’t match it yet. That being said, this will probably take awhile, so if you want to take a nap, you can. I’ll wake you up when I’m done,” he said. More out of a desire to escape my situation than anything else, I decided to take his advice. I was reawoken about forty-five minutes later.

“All right, I’m done. You can go ahead and transform back into robot mode now,” the second mech said. I complied, and had to hold back a nervous breakdown. My beautiful purple-and-white coloration had been replaced with a hideous shade of brown, and my family crest had been painted over and replaced with Neocybex lettering that read “Garbage Disposal”. Once I had calmed down from panic to mild disgust, I turned to the second mech.

“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t feel thankful at all, but it seemed prudent not to let him know that. The mech smiled.

“No problem,” he replied. He walked off, and the mech who had hired me walked up and took his place, then handed me a chip similar to the one Onslaught had given me earlier.

“Here’s your schedule. Your shift starts at 6 and ends at 5. You make 12 Shanix per day; if you’re late to any of the pickups, it comes out of your pay. Any extra Shanix you earn will come from tips. Any questions?” he said rapidly.

“I...start now?” I asked.

“No, you start tomorrow. That way, you have some time to go over the schedule, though I guess you’ll have to find someone to read it for you if you don’t understand Neocybex very well,” he replied. I didn’t bother to tell the mech that I could read Neocybex just fine; there didn’t seem to be much point.

“I...go home?” I asked. I felt very relieved that I was not going to be immediately thrust into a humiliating, unfamiliar work environment.

“Yeah, you can go home now. But if you aren’t back here by 6 AM sharp tomorrow, you’re fired. Got it?” the mech replied.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. With that, I left the transport station, transformed into my vehicle mode, pulled up the directions that I had used to get to the station, and then simply reversed the directions in order to get back to Onslaught’s hovel. (One of the benefits of being a shuttle is the fact that we all possess a natural skill for navigation.) Upon my arrival, I returned to robot mode and knocked on the door, which was opened by none other than the tiny sparkling.

“Hi,” he said. He seemed a bit bemused, but not particularly frightened. A few seconds later, Vortex joined him at the door.

“That’s the shuttle I told you about, Stumpy, the one who showed up last night when you were in recharge. His name is Blast Off, but Brawl and I call him Prissy because he used to be Onslaught’s boss, back when you were even littler than you are now. He used to be really rich, and he still thinks he’s better than us, but something bad happened to him and now Onslaught says he’s the “hired help”, and that means he has to do what we say. Ain’t that right, Prissy?”

“Yes,” I replied, still a bit shell-shocked by the fact that I-the wealthiest noblemech of Vos-now had to take orders from two filthy little brats.

“Onslaught must think you’ll make a lot of Shanix.” Unbelievably, this particular comment came out of the mouth of the tiny sparkling.

“What?” I asked.

“If you’re living with us, we’ll have to buy energon for you, which will increase our expenses. If Onslaught’s letting you stay anyway, it must be because you’ll bring in enough energy to cover the difference-and also make a net profit,” the little sparkling replied. I stared at him in utter bewilderment. What sort of sparkling had that level of understanding of economics?

“Onslaught says that Stumpy’s an “economics prodigy”,” Vortex explained, as though sensing my confusion.

“I see,” I replied. It was rather unfortunate for Onslaught, then-but quite fortunate for me, conditions being what they were-that the sparkling was far too young to be employed full-time (even in a cesspool like Kaon).

“What are you doing back here so early, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be getting a job?” Vortex demanded.

“I...got job. Job starts tomorrow,” I explained quickly.

“Oh. Okay. See you later, Prissy. Stumpy and I have stuff to do,” Vortex exclaimed. He grabbed his younger brother by the hand and proceeded to pull him outside.

“You go to school?” I asked.

“School?” Vortex and “Stumpy” echoed, apparently perplexed, which in turn puzzled me. Surely a youngling and a prodigy knew what a school was.

“Learning place,” I explained. Vortex frowned.

“We know what school is, dummy. We just don’t know why you think we go to school,” Vortex replied.

“Schools cost money, and Onslaught can’t afford to send us,” the sparkling added. This shocked me. Apparently, my assumption that public education was available across the entirety of Cybertron was mistaken.

“Where going?” I asked.

“Out,” Vortex replied. Before I could ask any more questions, both the youngling and the sparkling scampered away and disappeared. After a few seconds of worry that Onslaught would be upset that I had not kept an optic on them, I quickly realized that, since Brawl and Onslaught both worked, and I hadn’t lived with them until very recently, they were accustomed to Vortex and Swindle taking care of themselves in spite of their youth...and in truth, they were both probably more street savvy than I could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, with their departure, I was left alone in the tiny, filthy hovel, with little to do except reflect on my thoroughly unpleasant situation. Starting the following day, I-a noblemech of Vos!-would be working 11 hours every day as a garbage transport, all so I could pay my former employee for the “privilege” of living in a hovel and sharing a recharging center with a loudly-snoring, filthy tank. How had I been reduced to this? Overwhelmed by the blatant unfairness of it all, I started to weep. Why me? After I finished wallowing in (very deserved) self-pity, I finally downloaded the schedule that I had been given at the transport station, which promptly created yet another cause for self-pity. Because the universe apparently has it out for me, the last stop on the schedule was Amabilia Manor, the estate of my sponsa (betrothed), Illusion of the Furtim Line. In other words, there was a very real chance that Illusion, whom I was still quite fond of, would see me working on her estate as a garbage shuttle ! What had I done to deserve that? A few hours of alternatively wallowing some more in self-pity, vaguely wondering if I was supposed to be responsible for cleaning the interior of the hovel, and trying to ignore my ever-lowering fuel levels later, Vortex and the little yellow sparkling returned with a handful of Shanix and one (very small) energon cube.

“How... you get that?” I asked.

“Stumpy. I dirty him up a little, set him in full view of passersby, have him make his sad face, and bam! Instant Shanix. Nobody can resist helping out a poor, starving orphan, after all. It’s great!” Vortex explained. Wonderful. I was living with a pair of miniature con artists.

“I hate it. Why don’t you ever have to be the orphan?” the tiny sparkling said.

“Because I’m a warbuild, and thus, not small or cute enough to get sympathy. For some reason, you were the only one of us our creator didn’t design as a warbuild, so you have to do the cutesy stuff. Besides, you’re a better actor than I am,” Vortex replied.

“But I have to do all the work!”

“No, you don’t! When your cute face doesn’t bring in enough Shanix, I make up the difference by raiding their subspace containers while they’re distracted. How do you think we got the energon cube today, magic?” Vortex replied. Oh, terrific. One of them was a thief as well. However, much to my surprise, rather than keeping the Shanix for themselves, the pair instead deposited it in a container located under Onslaught’s recharger. The box was largely empty and lined only with a thin layer of Shanix, which puzzled me. Even considering the fact that neither Onslaught nor Brawl was likely to have a particularly well-paying job, it seemed like they should have more Shanix than that. With two grown mechs (soon, I reflected sadly, to be three) working full-time, why were their savings so limited, and why did they have to ration energon so strictly? The answer to that question arrived a few minutes later, when a large red-and-white mech stormed into the hovel, prompting shrieks of fear from Vortex and the sparkling, who both promptly ran to hide behind me.

“Who is he?” I asked.

“An Enforcer. Do whatever he says,” Vortex explained, clearly ill at ease. Given how confident he had been previously, this was rather alarming.

“All right, Empties. Pay up!” the Enforcer exclaimed aggressively. In response, Vortex ran over to the Shanix container, handed it to me, and instructed me to hand it to the Enforcer, which I did. The sparkling started crying into my leg, and for the first time, I actually felt a pang of sympathy for the two of them. If I was terrified, it had to be even worse for a youngling and a sparkling. The Enforcer emptied the container into what appeared to be his personal subspace compartment and then scowled.

“Is that all the Shanix you have?” he demanded. I looked at Vortex, who nodded. In response, the Enforcer proceeded to upend the hovel, apparently in search of any hidden Shanix, and totally destroying one of the chairs. My fuel pump felt like it was beating out of my chest, and my spark constricted in terror. After what seemed like an eternity, but, according to my chronometer, was actually only five minutes, he stopped tearing the hovel apart, now apparently having determined that Vortex had told the truth. Then he stomped over to me.

“Tell Onslaught that if he doesn’t have at least fifty shanix waiting for me next time, I’ll take your two youngest brothers as payment instead. There’s a titanium mine that would pay hundreds of shanix for a couple of slaves who are small enough to fit in those hard-to-reach crevices,” he said threateningly. With that, he grabbed the energon cube, downed it in one gulp, dropped it back onto the floor, and stormed out of the hovel. As soon as he was gone, I found myself awkwardly attempting to comfort a sobbing sparkling while also trying to work out what, exactly, had just happened. After a few seconds, I gave up and decided to just ask Vortex.

“What happened?”

“I told you that guy was an enforcer, right? Well, all of the Enforcers work for Lord Straxus and make sure he gets to stay the boss. Because of that, they can do whatever they want-short of trying to overthrow him, that is-and almost all of them eventually set up this thingy they call a “patrol fee”, which is a fancy way of saying that they can come into your home and take as much of your Shanix as they like, and you can’t do anything to stop them...unless you wanna get thrown in prison. And if you can’t meet the fee they want for whatever reason, they’ll throw you into debtor’s prison or sell you into slavery,” Vortex explained. This, as one might imagine, was less than comforting news. While it certainly explained the desperate poverty of Onslaught’s unit, the revelation that most of my earnings wouldn’t benefit me even remotely was even more disgusting and unpleasant than the fact that I was expected to work as garbage transport in order to earn them in the first place. Once the sparkling finally stopped sobbing, I reorganized the hovel to the best of my (very limited) ability, as Vortex watched with very irritating amusement. I was trying my best! It was not as though I had ever personally had to reorganize a room before! As soon as he was convinced that his home was (more or less) back in order, Vortex started heading for the exit again, dragging his younger brother behind him.

“No! I’m n-not going out again! The Enforcer might still be around, and if he catches us begging, he might put us in jail!” the sparkling said, clearly terrified. His huge optics somehow seemed even wider than usual. Vortex laughed.

“C’mon, Stumpy. They’ve never caught us before,” he said, remarkably boldly, I thought, for a youngling who had been hiding behind my leg, in apparent fear of an Enforcer, not thirty minutes before.

“‘“M not going. Enforcers are scary,” the sparkling replied, suddenly sounding a lot more like what I had expected a sparkling still in his first frame to sound than a business mech.

“Only if they’re close enough to hurt you. If they don’t know where we are or what we’re doing- which they won’t-they’re no threat,” Vortex replied. In response, the sparkling latched onto my leg again, much to my mild disgust. Although I pitied the pair, I had no desire for them to be putting their filthy hands on me on a regular basis.

“You can’t make me. The Enforcer is too close! And if you do, I’m gonna tell Onslaught,” the sparkling said. Vortex scowled.

“Fine! Stupid sparkling,” he exclaimed. With that, he pouted and sat down on his recharging center. It was at this point that I realized that I had not yet learned the sparkling’s name (or, for that matter, how old he was). Onslaught had told it to me the previous night, but I had subsequently totally forgotten it.

“Name? How old?” I asked the sparkling.

“Swindle. I’m five stellar cycles old,” he replied. “Swindle” seemed like an odd name for a sparkling, but then again, “Onslaught” and “Brawl” weren’t exactly names that I would have imagined a creator giving to their creations either. Perhaps it had something to do with what their creators were like. Since three out of the four brothers were war-builds, it seemed likely that at least one, if not both, of them were also war-builds, amongst whom such names might be common. My curiosity having been aroused, I decided to continue questioning the sparkling to see if I could obtain any further information about Onslaught’s unit.

“Creators?” I asked. Much to my surprise, it was Vortex who answered. I had assumed that he was too street-savvy to trust me with such information, but evidently I had either overestimated him, or he did not think that the information was important.

“Our male creator was named Dragline and our female creator was named Highwall. They were miners and they died in a cave-in two solar cycles after Stumpy was brought online. He doesn’t remember them at all, and I was only three stellar cycles old, so I only remember little bits and pieces. Brawl was eleven stellar cycles when the cave-in happened, and Onslaught was thirteen, so they remember more,” he explained.

“Other members of house?” I asked.

“Well, there was Dragline’s brother, Onslaught. He was a soldier, but he was offlined in battle a long time ago, I think before Brawl came online. Our Onslaught’s named after him,” Vortex replied. Stunned, I started performing some mental calculations. If Onslaught the elder was the only member of their house besides their creators, and he and their creators had all gone offline by the time Onslaught had reached the age of thirteen stellar cycles, that meant two things. First, Onslaught had been raising his three younger brothers, alone, since he was thirteen, and second, if he had been thirteen when Swindle had just come online, and Swindle was five stellar cycles old now, that meant that he was currently only eighteen stellar cycles old, barely any older than me. I had thought he was at least thirty-five stellar cycles!

“I see,” I replied at last. The next several hours passed largely uneventfully (especially in comparison to the shocks that the morning had provided), and, around 7:00 in the evening, Brawl returned to the hovel. (His approach was so loud that I heard him coming several minutes before he actually arrived.) Upon his arrival, he immediately collapsed into one of the chairs, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Hey, Brawl, how was work?” Vortex asked.

“Long. Did Prissy get a job?” Brawl replied.

“Yep. He starts work tomorrow,” Vortex said.

“You stay out of trouble, Tiny?” Brawl asked. Vortex smirked.

“Of course, bro. Stumpy and I would never do anything that would get us in trouble.” Brawl snorted. Clearly, he knew better than to believe his brothers.

“And what really happened?”

“We got ten Shanix and an energon cube from our usual methods, but then the Enforcer broke in and took all of it, so now we’ve got nothin’ again. I hope you picked up some extra shanix today, ‘cause if not, none of us are gonna get to refuel, and I’m hungry,” Vortex explained.

‘Lousy no-good Enforcers. Ain’t like we got any Shanix worth stealin’,” Brawl muttered.

“How much Shanix did you earn, Brawl? I’m hungry too,” Swindle asked. In response, Brawl actually gave what passed for a smile; which was much more terrifying than his scowls.

“10, plus 6 extra I spent on energon,” he said. Vortex and Swindle cheered, and even I felt a sense of relief. Admittedly, it was disgraceful that I- a noblemech!-felt relief at the prospect of something so basic as being able to consume fuel, but it was still better than dying of fuel deprivation. Vortex started pawing at his older brother, likely in search of the energon.

“None of that, tiny. Nobody’s refuelin’ till Onslaught gets back,” Brawl said. Vortex pouted, but didn’t argue, instead choosing to kick me in the shin to relieve his frustration.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed. Vortex giggled, and I glared at him. Why had I felt sympathy for the filthy little youngling, again? I elected to ignore him and turned my attention to Brawl instead.

“Where...work?” I asked.

“Construction. Ain’t many jobs for a stupid tank like me, but I can lift stuff pretty good. So long as I can do that, my boss don’t care that I’m not so bright and don’t have no ed-you-cay-shun,” Brawl replied tersely. (I am not exaggerating his pronunciation of the word “education”, by the way. That’s exactly the way that he said the word.)

“No...school?” I asked.

“Not really. Our creators worked real hard to make sure that they could send Onslaught and me, but I only went for a stellar cycle. Teachers said I was too stupid to learn anything, and so my creators took me out ‘cause it was too expensive to spend Shanix on school for me if I wasn’t gonna be learnin’ nothin’. My female creator tried to teach me some after that, but she was always real busy, so I never did learn much before our creators died. Onslaught’s real ed-you-cated, though. His teachers said he was the brightest student in his level, and he always made real high scores. Our creators were so proud of him. He was ‘posed to be our ticket outta bein’ poor, seein’ as he was so smart and all. His teachers even said he could probably get a scholarship to Kaon’s Military Academy, but a stellar cycle before that could happen, our creators were killed, and he had to drop out to provide for Vortex and Swindle and me. Don’t bring that up around him, though. Makes him mad,” Brawl explained. I had a feeling that this was the longest that I would hear Brawl speak for a very long time. He didn’t seem particularly chatty by nature. The fact that he didn’t say another word until Onslaught arrived at the hovel about an hour later, even as his younger brothers chatted nonstop around him about a variety of inane topics, proved my suspicion correct. Upon Onslaught’s arrival, he took one look at the room and then glared at me.

“What happened here?” he demanded.

“I...sorry, sir! Not...clean...before,” I apologized. Onslaught didn’t look appeased.

“It wasn’t really Prissy’s fault, Onslaught. An enforcer showed up and tore the place apart looking for Shanix other than the ones in our container. Prissy was just too stupid to know how to put things back right,” Vortex said. Normally, I would have glared at him, but I was too relieved that he was defending me to really care whether or not he was calling me an idiot (which, for the record, I am most certainly not.)

“An enforcer? Are you two all right?” Onslaught asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine, but the Enforcer said that if we didn’t have at least fifty shanix when he came next time, he’d take me and Stumpy as payment instead,” Vortex replied. In response, Onslaught sat down on his recharging center (remember, there wasn’t-and, sadly, isn’t- that much room in the filthy hovel) and buried his faceplates in his hands, clearly quite upset.

“He said WHAT?” Brawl exclaimed as he jumped out of his seat, so loudly that I am surprised my audio receptors weren’t burnt out. Vortex repeated his explanation, and Brawl collapsed back into his chair, his anger evidently spent. Onslaught, for his part, turned to me.

“Did you get the job?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying not to think about how horrible the job was.

“Good,” Onslaught said, sounding utterly exhausted. Then the little sparkling walked over to him, huge optics filled with worry.

“If we don’t give him enough Shanix to pay his “patrol fee”, the Enforcer’s gonna take us away! You won’t let that happen, will you, Onslaught? I don’t wanna be taken away by an Enforcer. They scare me,” Swindle asked.

“I most certainly will not allow that to happen, even if it means working even more shifts than I currently do. Nothing is going to pull this unit apart,” Onslaught replied firmly. At this, Swindle seemed to relax. I, on the other hand, still felt nervous. No matter how hard Brawl, Onslaught, and- *sigh* -I worked, I did not see how it was possible for us to be able to purchase energon and consistently maintain at least fifty shanix for the enforcer on our meager salaries.

“Now can we refuel? I’m hungry,” Vortex asked.

“Yes,” Onslaught replied. With that, he, Vortex, and Swindle joined Brawl at the table (which was, like the rest of the furniture, rather worse for wear), and Brawl retrieved four energon cubes from his storage compartment. One was split between Swindle and Vortex, one was taken by Onslaught, and one was taken by Brawl. Assuming that the last one was mine, I reached for it...only to have my hand slapped by Onslaught.

“You are the hired help, remember? You fuel after we are finished,” he snapped. My circuits heated up with embarrassment, but I retreated back to “my” recharging center and sat down on it to wait anyway. While it was humiliating for me-a noblemech!-to be treated like a servant by my own ex-employee-a desperately poor pauper, no less-I could not afford to raise a fuss. Luckily, Onslaught’s unit refueled remarkably quickly, so I was able to refuel myself less than thirty minutes later….only to immediately gag. The taste was disgusting!

“Energon...bad,” I choked out. Onslaught gave out a harsh laugh.

“I would advise you to get used to it. It may not taste like the delicacies you’re used to, but it’ll keep you alive, and it’s all we can afford,” he said sharply. Although I hated to admit it, he made a good point, and so I forced myself to consume the fuel despite its taste. After all, for all I knew, it might be solar cycles before I could refuel again. Not long after I finished, Onslaught sent Swindle and Vortex to recharge. Both complained extensively, but eventually gave in, and were in recharge in only a few minutes. This being accomplished, Onslaught collapsed onto his own recharging center and was immediately offline to the world, and Brawl followed suit. Clearly, both of them had been absolutely exhausted, and that did not bode well for the career that I would be starting the next day. It was only 8:45 in the evening! Was I going to be that exhausted from work every solar cycle for the rest of my life? However, I still joined Brawl on the recharging center a few minutes later. If I was going to have to wake myself up at 4:30 in the morning, I needed as much rest as I could get. I set an internal alarm to ensure that I wouldn’t oversleep and anger Onslaught again, and tried to ignore Brawl’s loud snoring. I fell into recharge after what felt like an hour (but likely wasn’t). Luckily, the alarm worked, and I was woken promptly at 4:30, then left Onslaught’s hovel to head to my first solar cycle on the job (shudder). I arrived at the transport station at 5:10, and sat around awkwardly for twenty minutes, then departed for the first stop on my schedule. (I definitely did not want to have my pay docked for showing up late, so I felt that it was wise to depart early.) I arrived at the first of the manors of the Towers District at 5:50 and sat around awkwardly once again. At about 5:56, a mech whom I assumed was one of the manor’s servants arrived with a garbage container. I winced, tried not to think about what I had been reduced to, and then opened the door to my cargo bay. The servant then deposited the garbage into my interior, and I shuddered. It was so unfair! I hadn’t been built for work like this! Once he finished emptying the container (into my interior!), he pulled out a few Shanix.

“Hey, you! Transform so I can give you your tip,” he said. I complied with an intense feeling of humiliation. Why me?

“T-thank you,” I stammered, hoping my mortification wasn’t too obvious. The servant handed me the Shanix, and I put it into my subspace compartment. (Shuttles actually have two, one which stores the cargo they can carry in alternate mode, and one which is for personal use.)

“No problem. My boss really appreciates your streamlined design, so he decided to reward it. He says it’s much more “aesthetically pleasing” than the other shuttles he sees,” the servant replied. I nodded, reverted to my shuttle mode, and then took off for my next stop. For the next eleven stops, nothing particularly interesting happened, though my beautiful plating quickly became covered in filth and grime. I did receive tips at all eleven of these stops, evidently because of the sleekness of my alternate mode. I had no idea if this would be a regular occurrence or not, but I wasn’t about to complain about it. The more Shanix I made, the more reason Onslaught would have to keep me around. While it was still humiliating to be tipped like a servant, it was preferable to the alternatives, so I planned to keep my mouth firmly shut on the matter. However, the thirteenth and last stop was not so uneventful (sadly). The flight between the twelfth stop and the manor of Illusion was shorter than the flights between most of the other estates, which meant that I arrived early. Although one of the servants was ready with the garbage (and my tip) when I got there, this meant that I had a full hour before I was expected to deposit the garbage at the dump. As such, I found myself standing around awkwardly on the grounds of the estate, listening to the servant talk about various things.

“Sure, they’re a bit stuck-up, but they’re not that bad, all things considered. And in speaking of not bad, the Lord’s daughter is a beaut...and whaddaya know, she’s come out on the grounds with some of her friends now. Aren’t they lovely? Of course, they’re way out of our league, but a mech can dream,” he said. My circuits heated up in humiliation. I had been betrothed to Illusion less than five solar cycles ago, and now she was “out of my league”?

“Yes,” I said quietly. He grinned.

“Well, I gotta run. Have fun watching the lifestyles of the rich and famous,” he said. With that, he left me and went back inside the manor, and I turned my attention to the conversation Illusion was having with her friends.

“Is your betrothal off then, Illusion?” one of the friends asked (I believe her name is Argenti.) Illusion sighed.

“I don’t know. Blast Off hasn’t so much as called me in three solar cycles, and the King of Vos says he hasn’t seen him for awhile, That doesn’t seem like him,” she replied. I sighed. It was official. The Universe hated me.

“Well, if this is his way of calling off your engagement, then I’d say you dodged a laser blast,” Aurum, another of her friends said.

“No kidding. If he doesn’t appreciate someone like you, he’s crazy,” Argenti added.

“But I know him, Argenti. He’s a bit arrogant, but he’s not inconsiderate of me. He likes me! He would never just fail to call me for three solar cycles. Something must be wrong,” Illusion replied. As you might imagine, I was more than a little relieved that Illusion, at least, didn’t think that I was some sort of irresponsible cad.

“I’ll say something’s wrong. Your conjunx-to-be is a creep,” Aurum said. Suddenly, a blue-and-white mech appeared out of nowhere, prompting shrieks from the females. I recognized him as Mirage, Illusion’s cousin. I had met him once or twice at dinner parties.

“Mirage! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Illusion exclaimed. Mirage laughed .

“Is that any way to talk to your favorite cousin?” he asked.

“Mirage, you’re my only cousin,” she replied.

“Technicalities. And I have to say, I agree with Aurum. If Blast Off doesn’t appreciate how beautiful you are, he doesn’t deserve you,” Mirage said.

“Me? Beautiful? That’s why suitors have been beating down my door, I suppose,” Illusion replied dryly.

“They don’t know you’re available again yet, cousin dear,” Mirage said.

“And they won’t be the only ones chasing you. I think that garbage mech is sweet on you, Illusion! He hasn’t taken his optics off of you since Tersus left,” Argenti exclaimed.

“And no wonder! You’re probably the first clean, beautiful thing he’s seen in a stellar cycle,” Aurum added. She, Argenti, and Mirage laughed.

“He would certainly make for an interesting story, at least...and you could use the smell to scare off all the other suitors!” Argenti said. This conversation, as you might imagine, was mortifying, and I decided to make myself scarce. I headed for the edge of the estate, hoping that I would no longer be able to overhear the conversation. Much to my surprise, however, Illusion actually followed me to the edge of the estate.

“I’m so sorry for what my friends said about you. You weren’t causing any harm, and….Blast Off?” she exclaimed. Apparently, being covered in grime and wearing hideous brown paint was not sufficient to prevent my sponsalia from recognizing me.

“ Ita ,” (Yes.) I replied quietly.

“ Quid tibi accessit? Ubi eras?’ (What happened to you? Where have you been?)

“ Me expulso rege fictis maiestatis criminibus. Et comprehenderunt omnia mia. Ego autem in Kaon cum pristini ... servum suum servo suo ut nihil minus. Qui autem pauperrimus, et sicut tale, et iussit ut reperio a officium ad terminos occursum. Est nimis ignominia.” (The king banished me on false charges of treason. He seized everything I own. Now I am living in Kaon with my former servant…as his servant, no less. He is very poor, and as such, he ordered me to find a job to make ends meet. It’s very humiliating.) I explained.

“ O, non! Quod sonos terribilis! Quid facere possum?” (Oh, no! That sounds terrible! What can I do?)

“ Proelio nostros dicere videmur. Non possum non enutriet, et non aliquid incorruptelam possidebit.” (I think we should call off our engagement. I can no longer support you, and you will not inherit anything,) I replied. Because Illusion had an elder sister, Apparition, she would inherit very little from her creators. As the younger child, her fortunes were dependent on picking a suitable Conjunx Endura. I, sadly, no longer fit the criteria.

“ Non curo illud! Te amo,” (I don’t care about that! I love you.) she exclaimed

“ Ego autem en uno-locus, magno cum quattuor aliss. Opus mihi quotidie horas undecim. Ibi sus ‘nunquam satis cibum. Illic est non satis manducare. Non possum facere vobis.” (I am living in a one-room hovel with four other mechs. I have to work eleven hours every solar cycle. There’s never enough energon. If you become my conjunx endura, you’ll have to slave away just to stay alive, too. I can’t do that to you.) I said. As horrible as it felt to call off my engagement, I couldn’t drag Illusion into the desperate poverty that I had somehow found myself in. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and living with a Conjunx Endura that I was unable to support would have been unbearably humiliating. Illusion frowned, but then nodded, apparently having realized the full costs of becoming my Conjunx Endura.

“ Saltem accipe pecuniam,” (At least let me give you some money) she said. Then she handed me a pile worth about 500 Shanix. Part of me wanted to reject it, but knowledge of my dire situation won out.

“ Optime. Gratias tibi,” (Very well. Thank you.) I replied.

“ Gratias. Bona fortuna,” (You’re welcome. Good luck.) she said. I deposited the Shanix in my subspace compartment, bid Illusion farwell, and then transformed into my alternate mode and departed from her estate. I dropped off the garbage at the dump, flew back to the transport station, where I received my (pitiful) wages, and then returned to Onslaught’s slum. Swindle and Vortex were waiting there for me.

“How many Shanix did you earn?” Swindle asked.

“Twelve. Thirteen...tips. 500...female,” I replied.

“500? We’re rich!” Vortex exclaimed. I deposited the Shanix in the container, as Swindle and Vortex enthusiastically speculated about what they would do with it all. About an hour later, Brawl returned home, deposited his earnings in the same container....and then stared at his younger brothers and me in shock.

“Where’d we get so much Shanix?” he asked loudly.

“Apparently, a girl gave Prissy a bunch of Shanix for some reason, and now we’re rich!” Vortex replied.

“That true?” Brawl asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

‘Huh. Maybe you ain’t as bad as I thought, Prissy,’ Brawl said. Coming from him, this was high praise indeed. Onslaught, upon his return to the hovel, was just as surprised.

“How did you manage to get this much Shanix?” he asked.

“Can’t explain...Neocybex. Don’t speak well,” I replied. Onslaught shrugged.

“I suppose that it doesn’t matter where we got it so long as we have it,” he said. That was all he said on the matter, and for most of the evening he treated me with the same hostility of the previous two nights. However, after his brothers had entered recharge, he walked over to me and actually gave me a look of what seemed to be respect.

“You’ve worked all day without a single complaint, and you managed to bring more than 500 shanix to my home with you...more than enough to keep Swindle and Vortex safe from the Enforcers the next time they come by. For that, I suppose I should thank you. I still don’t like you, but you’ve proven that you can earn your keep. You’re still our servant, but you’re now a member of the unit, which means that I’m not kicking you out. You do good work,” he said. With that, he went to his own recharging center and was quickly dead to the world, leaving me to my thoughts. As much as I hated the life I was now stuck in, at least I was no longer utterly hated by the mech whom I depended on for shelter. That, at least, was a positive development, and it is one that has stuck. The past six lunar cycles have been dreadfully humiliating, but at least there is one glimmer of hope. If I could win over Onslaught and his unit, then maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that all of us might be able to escape the festering wound that is Kaon.

#transformers g1 #blast off transformers #onslaught transformers #brawl transformers #swindle transformers #vortex transformers #silly robot families #fanfic #poverty #combaticons

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years ago

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OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT COMPANY

It has become one of the first varies depending on whether you have control over the whole system and have the source code of all the parts, as ITA presumably does, you can create an enemy if there isn't a real one. But that comes with the territory. The biggest startup ideas are terrifying. But I don't think many nerds would. The users in this case are those critical few thousand people you'd like to move to Silicon Valley? It was something to do together, and because the drugs were illegal, it was hard to imagine a technology company. Economies are made out of people, and channels the rest into unproductive jobs. What you should not do is rebel.

Like many nerds, probably, it was hard to imagine a technology company making money that way. Don't worry if a project doesn't seem to be about technology. Friends offer moral support few startups are started by one person, but secrecy also has its advantages. My guess is that they make deals close faster.1 These fonts are closer to the one played in the real world is that it's part of the mechanism of popularity. But the more investors you have in a round, the less it would take at least six months to write. But they are not the same thing with equity instead of debt. Another startup might have needed a database guy, or someone with connections in the movie business. Plenty of famous people do; in the short term, the quality of his ideas.

Your tastes will change. She was horrified when the doctors running the study discovered what appeared to be a startup. I'm uncomfortably aware that this is why poor whites in the United States are the group most hostile to blacks. She's trying to get people to start calling them portals instead of search engines. If it's any consolation to the individual mosquito. And that would in turn mean that you can. You can measure how demoralizing it is by the number of users. It's much better than the drab Sears Catalogs of art that undergraduates are forced to buy for Art History 101. The CEO of that company, the next Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, and Michael Dell can't be a good deal of overlap between them.

That's leverage. Some of the attention people currently devote to watching movies and TV can be stolen by things that seem completely unrelated, like social networking apps. Possibly, but I'd bet not. So there you have it: languages are not equivalent, and I am not surprised to hear it. Number 2, most managers deliberately ignore this. On the other hand, the extra million dollars would give them a lot more runway. And the pages don't have the clean, sparse feel they used to. Both customers and investors will be feeling pinched. Jobs, Bill Gates, and Michael Dell can't be a company of one person. Theirs was not to have a medium that makes change easy. Most of the greatest discoveries seem so simple that you say to high school students aren't capable of getting anything done yet. What would happen if you treated them as a web service.

I believe we were the only D table in our cafeteria map.2 Many of the employees e. Much more commonly you launch something, and no one else would be in a random corporate job. Because they haven't tried to control it with a wireless mouse, but the fear of looking bad than by the hope of gain, but the way one anticipates a delicious dinner. There's no incentive that would make them move.3 Imagine a company with several times the power Google has now, but way meaner. Like the rest of the group slows you down. If a company considers itself to be in a rush to choose your life's work.4 If this works, it would be a curious state of affairs if you could, you'd have some pretty big gaps. And you can start today.

It is the proverbial fishing rod, rather than the fish. You can't answer that; if you fail. This essay is derived from a keynote at Xtech. I found myself thinking: I can understand why German universities declined in the 1930s, after they excluded Jews. Which companies are in the US, because they don't know what the kids are kept in prisons, but that they were the first investors in Google. The reason startups have been using more convertible notes in angel rounds is that they can combine as they wish, like Lego. That's the nature of platforms. As one data point on the curve that you want to improve your chances, you should think far more about who you can recruit as a cofounder than the state of the economy doesn't matter much. Yes, as you continue to design things. Of course not.

This is a list of danger signs to watch out for. When you're forced to be simple, you're forced to be simple, you're forced to be simple, you're forced to face the real problem. The power of chance meetings is more variable than people around you. So be honest with yourself about the sort of deadlock that happens when investors all wait to see who else is investing? Ornament is not in itself bad, only when it's camouflage on insipid form. How does a more powerful language probably decreases the size of the team you need, you can't be a good one. I want there to be more interesting than a stretch of flashy but mindlessly repetitive painting of, say, the Quicksort algorithm, which was discovered in 1960 and is still the fastest general-purpose sort. If you asked the pointy-haired boss in 1992 what language software should be written in, he would have answered with as little hesitation as he does today.

Notes

It requires the kind of kludge you need to go behind the rapacious one. Simpler just to steal the ball away from taking a difficult position.

Median may be whether what you can do is say you've reformed, and you have a bogus political agenda or are feebly executed. If you're not even be tempted to do better. What people will give you fifty times as much as people in return for something they get a patent is conveniently just longer than the long term than one level of incivility, the big acquisition offers that every successful startup?

Unfortunately, not lowercase. Yes, I put it this way, they'd be proportionately more effective, leaving less room to avoid the conclusion that tax rates. Down rounds are at selling it to the way they have to be self-interest explains much of the causes of failure would be easy to get the answer to, in Galbraith's words, of course finding words this way.

Trevor Blackwell reminds you to behave like adults, it would have gone into the work of selection. They have the balls to ask, what would our competitors had known we were using Lisp, though I think it's roughly what everyone must have affected what they made much of the false positive rates are untrustworthy, as far as I explain later.

Thanks to Robert Morris, the Berkeley CSUA, Trevor Blackwell, Savraj Singh, Bob van der Zwaan essay, Chris Dixon, and Greg McAdoo for their feedback on these thoughts.

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penelopespen · 6 years ago

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Guys I freakn hate my life rn.

So some of you may or may not know that I've long struggled with paying for school and books and just always drowning in debt in some way. Whether it be being able to pay for books or insurance or getting fired or something.

Today is no different.

Monday I went and talked to my financial aid and got everything done with then and decided not to take summer courses.

Talked to my academic advisor and got classes worked out for next semester and so on.

Got my insurance activated. It was good.

Tuesday:

I worked with insurance people and tried to work everything out with them in seeing why there was a big gap and how I could get coverage for the time I missed.

Today:

Today has been awful. I talked with the insurance people and found out they couldn't give me coverage for the time I wasn't covered because I didnt have any unpaid medical bills ( i didnt go to the doctor because I didnt have one). And there's no other way they can help me.

I talked to the school's health insurance ppl and they said in order for me to be taken off the schools insurance, I would need proof of current activity (yes), needs to have been active during the start of the semester which was Jan. 1st-9th (it wasnt), and for there to have been no breaks in my coverage (there was) and ita jus- there is so much riding on this I really needed this to work.

My financial aid gave me a scholarship to put to pay for the school insurance ( its $900 a semester) but I now have my own but they wont accept it. And I really need them to because then the scholarship money would be sent directly to me and I was really counting on that money as it would be so much in terms of my financial situation and emotional and stress level.

But theres nothing they can do.

But I'm also mad at the fact that my insurance company didnt tell me that my insurance had stopped and at the fact that my school waiting till 2 weeks ago to tell me I was on their insurance when I thought my insurance was active the whole time of fall semester and this semester until a few weeks ago. But having looks at my insurance home page my insurance kicked me off in November for a reason I don't know why.

I've legit talked to everyone. Practically of the insurance company, my professors, my counselors, my friends, my family, everyone. And they just made me feel like it was my fault or were busy and couldnt help.

Please donate

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skammovistarplus · 6 years ago

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Culture and Translation - S01E09

SKAM+ Clip 4 will get its own post because it’s a fairly long clip and also really dense in terms of content. For now, let’s all marvel as Eva’s life goes fantastically off the rails.

CLIP 1: “Now I have really shit the bed,” Eva says. But that bed will be further soiled soon.

Yo soy Lara y le parto la cara, pero mucho más. Se ha quedado corta (“If I was Lara I’d smash her face harder. I mean, that wasn’t enough”): “Partir la cara” literally means to “break Eva’s face in half,” like you would with a cinder block if you were a martial artist. “Quedarse corta” means that, in the speaker’s opinion, Lara didn’t go far enough and further violence would’ve been socially appropriate in order to make things even between Lara and Eva.

La sueltita (“the trollop”): “Sueltita” literally means “loose,” but the suffix “-ita” makes it a diminutive. So the speaker is calling Eva “loosey,” if that were something you’d say in English.

Ahora sí que la he cagado bien (“now I have really shit the bed”): The literal translation would be something like, “Now I have really shat it out but good.” Don’t mind me, I just enjoy every instance of poop-related language.

El mierda seca que lo ha soltado todo (“the shitstain who ran their mouth”): “Mierdaseca” is literally dry turd, lol. So the literal translation is, “The dry turd who let it all out.”

CLIP 2: Shitting the bed, pt. II

It’s really hard to make out what the boys are saying in this scene. Lucas does say that they (presumably his parents) “están hasta los cojones.” As I’ve mentioned before, “cojones” is the rudest way you could talk about somebody’s balls. It is a lot ruder than saying “balls” in English, but there’s no real good equivalent in American English.

¿Te crees que soy gilipollas? (“Do you think I’m a moron?”): “Gilipollas” is a dual purpose swear word in Spanish. It can either mean “asshole” or someone so dumb that it’s a wonder they can walk and breathe at the same time. It is not ableist language, it has never been a scientific term for people with intellectual disabilities.

¡Yo no he dicho una puta mierda! (“I haven’t said shit!”): More specifically, Lucas says he hasn’t said “fucking shit.” 😂

Es que me parece flipante (“I’m tweaking out”): Again, Eva uses “flipante,” which is the adjective form of “flipar” (to trip, in a drug sense). Since Eva is having all these (completely wrong) epiphanies right now, I thought I’d do her one better and phrased it as “tweaking out.”

¡Es que me la suda! (“I don’t give a shit!”): Okay, so when Spaniards really, really don’t care about something, we say that whatever it is we don’t care about “me suda la polla” or “me suda el coño.” This literally means that thing you don’t care about is… sweat dripping down your dick, or your pussy, depending. So. Yeah. That’s how little Lucas now cares about Eva’s opinion of him. Sweat off his dick. For the record, yes, this is a fairly rude thing to say, but as you might’ve gathered from these posts, and just from watching Skam España… We use this idiom on the daily. It’s shocking coming from Lucas, but only because he uses it as a Precision F-Strike, not because it’s any stronger than the way the characters usually speak.

CLIP 3: Squad no longer

¿Esto no sera verdad? (“This can’t be true?”): So, right away, Viri has a belligerent tone, and also asks Eva this question. The literal translation is, “This isn’t going to be true?” As in, “this had better not be true, sis.” So Viri puts Eva on the spot with her opening line.

I think the Skam España crew should’ve waited a little longer before shooting this scene, lol. Unless Viri was tagged on one of the pics, there is no fucking way she’d have seen the hate ig unless she was present when it was created. It’s only been three minutes since the pictures were posted.

Ya son ganas de meter mierda (“You really have to be a shit stirrer to pull this”): A more literal translation would be, “You gotta be eager to shit stir.” I reworked it so the meaning came across more clearly.

So I guess a good question is, is what the girls did and said in this clip true to Spanish teens? I think that’s a very complicated question, but worth asking. Obviously, it depends on the person. Viri has her own character arc that we’ll deal with through subsequent posts. When it comes to Amira and Cris, though, my take is this. Spaniards will go hard for a friend. Amira and Cris have needed to be held back from telling Inés what’s what, if not outright fighting her. But, if you go so hard for a friend, you expect reciprocity. You don’t expect to have the rug pulled from under your feet, which is the way Amira and Cris feel. If Eva had told them about her history with Inés beforehand, there’s a chance they’d have told Inés to get over it and fuck off. Eva just didn’t give them the chance to process the info and then make the choice to defend her.

CLIP 4: We’ve reached peak Youth’s Daughter

It took me a while to decide whether I wanted to use “copying” or “cheating,” and it was a total waste of time, because I clearly should’ve gone for “cheating” and not “copying.”

How many remakes have used Youth’s Daughter at this point? It’s even on the soundtrack of the movie Lisa Teige starred in, Battle. Hopefully the remakes avoid song fatigue in the future, although some artists, such as Billie Eilish, Troye Sivan or Mona Haydar, seem almost compulsory.

CLIP 5: Puns are a translator’s nightmare

After squinting at Eva’s exam for a good while, I feel pretty confident about saying that the high school is named after Margarita Manso. Margarita Manso was a painter and general eschewer of rules. It’s worth noting that she was close friends with Federico García Lorca, who was killed by fascists during the Spanish civil war. García Lorca stood accused of being a socialist, a freemason and a homosexual, and was executed. His body has never been found. However, Margarita Manso also married a fascist, Alfonso Ponce de León, who was himself executed by the faction supporting the government. Here’s a pic of Margarita:

No, that’s not the actual name of the high school where they shoot the show. As mentioned elsewhere, Spanish fans can be very intense and it’s in the cast’s best interests to avoid a Nissen situation.

Lucas was not done with that exam, lol. And Eva wasn’t even close to finished, yikes.

Nora sings Lo Malo to Eva. Lo Malo was written by Brisa Fenoy and performed by Aitana (again!) and Ana Guerra. Since the lyrics are a key element of the scene, they’re included in the subs. I just want to explain some of the puns in the lyrics.

Tira porque te toca a ti perder (“Roll because it’s your turn to lose”): “Tira,” in this context, would mean “get out of my face,” but also, “roll the dice.” So, roll the dice because now it’s your turn to lose, but also, get out of my face, I’m over your shit. I hope “roll” helped convey both meanings.

Tiro porque me toca a mí otra vez (“I roll because it’s my turn again”): Another pun about rolling dice. I’m rolling the dice, because I got a second roll of the dice, but also, I’m leaving because I got rid of you, and this time it’s about me.

Pero si me toca, toca, tócame (“But if it’s my turn, touch-a, touch me”): “Toca” can also have several meanings. In this case, it can either mean that it’s my turn (“me toca”) or begging to be touched/stroked/caressed (“tócame”).

As for whether Lo Malo fits the role Baby played in the original… First off, I have to say that William, in that scene, is styled to look like Baby-era Justin Bieber, what with the hood pulled up. Julie Andem is making a connection between the music Noora is embarrassed to listen to, and the boy Noora is ashamed to find hot. There’s nothing embarrassing about liking Aitana and Ana Guerra as artists, per se, other than they got their start at a talent show and dueted on this song because they were contractually obligated to do so. That said, the lyrics fit Nora and Alejandro thematically and, on top of that, the song was really. Seriously. Incredibly. Overplayed in Spain in the summer of 2018, much like Baby was in its time.

Lo llevo muy jodido (“I have a fucking F in it”): I fought with this line so hard, and even as the episode was rendering, I knew I would regret my choice. Alejandro is also making a pun. He says he’s been consistently getting bad grades in English, but he also means that all his efforts to hook up with Nora have failed. There isn’t really a good translation for his line, but if we ever fix our subs, I’d go with, “I’m fucked, if I keep this up.” Or something akin to that!

CLIP 6: Queen Lara

“Hey, dude, give me a sip.” Why did I sub this line? Because it was oddly clear, and it just… seemed like I should… 😬

Tú sabrás el rollo que te llevas con tu novio (“Whatever deal you have with your boyfriend, that’s up to you”): This is one of those lines that took me a while to settle on a translation for. I’m happy with the line, but I’ll expand on what Lara means. She means to say that Eva’s relationship with Jorge is not Lara’s business. When it comes to the part that affects Lara, she doesn’t blame Eva, and fully blames Cristian. Whatever led Eva to kiss Cristian, and whether that’s something Jorge is cool with or isn’t, Lara thinks it’s not her place to judge or speak about.

I think it’s kinda funny that the fandom is chill with Lara reading Cristian’s texts and not regretting doing so, despite the show making it clear that’s not kosher, but thinks Viri is an asshole for posting the Cristian/rando pic (which the show also looked down on when it was the hate ig doing it, to be clear).

CLIP 7: Kicking Eva when she’s down

You don’t know how much I want to know where those stairs are.

Y habíamos quedado (“And you were supposed to come to the party”): Eva says she and Jorge “habían quedado,” which as I explained last post, means they had arranged to meet. In this case, they had arranged that both Eva and Jorge would party at Nora’s. So, not the exact translation, but the best option, given how vague the original sentence is.

Si Quieres Volver by El Imperio del Perro is the song which closes the clip and plays over the credits. I translated the lyrics that are used on the show:

You should understand That I’m in deep shit Any decision Smells bad where I stand

And now I’ll carry The shame on my back And I’ll be yet another person Who’ll apologize wordlessly

Tell me if you want to get back together (5x)

It’s so simple To ruin everything And watch as it burns

Something forces me to go on and Enjoy when it leaves I felt the need To jump in the well There was something else, I couldn’t see it

Tell me if you want to get back together (10x)

Social media:

Some people watch Skam and the remakes without keeping up with the social media aspect of the show. In general, I feel like you can watch Skam without the social media, and not miss anything of importance. But if you watch Skam España season 1 without the social media, you’ll miss a couple important details.

First, while the show was airing, the hate account felt inescapable. It updated very often and at random times, so that the real-time viewer first felt shocked, then tired, then massively over it. Someone who comes into the show late, needs to know that we would sometimes get excited because there was an update, but oh. It was yet more abuse.

Second, a viewer who watches the season without the social media, misses the actual chain of events, which is as follows:

Viri shares the following pic with Inés privately at some point during the week:

Clip 7 drops at 20:40.

Inés uploads the pic to her insta stories at 20:43.

By 20:45, the instagram profile @eva_la_z0rra or @eva_the s1ut, has taken the picture from Inés’ ig stories and cropped it, so that Eva and Cristian are the focus of the pic.

As a sidenote, Inés captions the pic like so: “wow, alex and alba came out cute… 🙊” Álex and Alba are Lucas’ and Eva’s actors’ real names.

#culture and translation #skam españa #skam spain #skames #skamesp

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officerjennie · 6 years ago

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Shisui Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Kagami, Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Fugaku Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, mostly pre-slash, Rating May Change, No Underage Sex, Not promising regular updates Summary:

Snippets of Shisui's life, often revolving around his favorite, albeit rather withdrawn, cousin.

Click the link or continue below the line to read!

Also, I officially have a Ko-Fi (link in header) :)

October came and went, Shisui’s smile waxing and waning with the moon. Even Halloween had little flare, the chill in the air flushing his cheeks red and cracking the skin of his palms.

After November began too soon, he briefly considered making a fuss - but the dark circles under his mom’s eyes gave him pause, and the ever-growing distant look on his father’s face made up his mind.

Instead, Shisui sat in the floor of his room with a few of his old toys around him, quietly celebrating his late birthday with an imaginary too-sweet cake and hand-me-down presents.

His mother startled him awake the next morning with near desperate shaking of his shoulder. “Shisui, you sleep like the dead!” Shisui sat up, barely aware of his mother’s huffing and grumbling as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Kaa-san, it’s Saturday.” He continued to whine as his mother went about his room. She stopped at the toys in his floor, still placed in a semi-circle from his late-night celebration, and tisked before shoving them all into his toy basket.

“Must you leave your floor a wreck? And no, it’s Sunday - come on, Shisui, you need to get dressed.”

He held back a groan, but only barely, as she searched through his clothes for who-knows-what. As she went on mumbling to herself, he turned his head, eyeing his pillow briefly before shrugging and flopping back down. He threw the top of his futon over his head and once again was graced by the blissful warmth and darkness.

When his mother woke him up again, she was practically hissing in anger. She tossed his clothes down on the bed next to him, demanding he put them on quickly before coming down for breakfast.

“And,” she stopped in the doorway, a hand on the doorknob and her eyes narrowed, “do not. Make me come dress you.” She shut his door hard, the frame shaking slightly and leaving the room quiet.

Shisui pouted, fiddling with his night shirt. It was probably best to do as she said. He wasn’t the smartest kid in his class - his no-better-than-average grades would testify to that - but he could tell she was getting angry, and he hated when his mom was angry with him. So he abandoned the warmth and comfort of his futon, this time not bothering to hold back his groan, wondering where they could be going in such a hurry on a Sunday.

He got dressed quickly and headed out to the living room, sticking his legs under the kotatsu as he settled in - it wouldn’t be turned on for at least another month, but it was still warmer underneath the blanket. While he waited for breakfast, he poked at a small hole in his pants, rolling his eyes around the living room in hopes something would catch his attention.

The living room was small. Everything here was smaller - the bathroom, the kitchen, his room. There wasn’t even a balcony here for his mom’s plants like their last place. He remembered she had looked sad giving most of them away when they moved here.

They’d only been here a few months, and Shisui still didn’t like it. There was no upstairs, their neighbors were too loud, and everything felt too tight and too big all at once. Thinking about it for too long made his head and chest hurt.

His mother brought two plates from the kitchen and sat across the kotatsu from him. Leftover curry and rice. He scrunched up his nose but said nothing, picking up his spoon to at least poke at a carrot or two.

She didn’t let him laze around like usual, rushing them both out of the house and ignoring Shisui’s grumbling protests.

“Kaa-san, are we going to the shrine?” They were already walking down the stairs to the train station when he bothered to ask. Every month or so she would drag him to the local shrine. It hadn’t been something they’d done when he was younger, at least as far as he remembered, but it wasn’t like he minded the trips. He liked walking through the gardens, even if his mom often had to scold him for being too loud.

“No, we’re visiting my sister.” The gate beeped as they went through, his mom sticking their train card back in her wallet as they walked down yet another set of stairs.

Shisui frowned, scuffing his feet on the ground as they stopped to wait for the next train. He remembered he had an aunt. Sort of. She had long hair...and she was pale.. And she was at the doctor’s when- “Oh! The one who had akachan?” He’d only seen his baby cousin once, the one with really small hands and fingers and toes. “I forgot his name.”

“Itachi-chan, yes.” His mother had a faint smile on her face, the train blowing her hair even as it slowed in front of them. It was odd, because her eyes looked really sad. “He’s finally home, so I thought we should visit.”

“He wasn’t home? Where was he?”

“Shisui, he was sick, remember?” She smoothed a hand through his hair, keeping it on the back of his head as they entered the train cart and sat down.

“So he’s all better now?” A hand on his knee kept him from kicking his feet, as did a short and sharp look from his mother.

“No. He’s still sick. But Oba-san was a nurse, so she knows how to care for him.”

Shisui couldn’t recall ever visiting his oba-san and oji-san. Their house was a long walk away from the train station, and was an actual house! No apartment complex, it was a separate building from those around it, with its own garden in the back. The whole neighborhood was in private awe with Shisui as he stood staring. His mother was less impressed, shooing him up the walkway to the front door.

The lady who answered the door was a lot warmer than the last time he saw her. Her hair was no longer dull, her skin not sick and wet - there were a lot of lines around her eyes though, and there was something off about her wide smile that Shisui couldn’t quite put his finger on.

They were quickly ushered into the living room - Sakiko making sure to turn Shisui’s shoes at the entry, scolding him quietly as Mikoto, ever the perfect host, immediately brought out a tray of snacks and turned the electric kettle on. There were some snacks Shisui didn’t recognize, and he couldn’t read the kanji on them either. Mikoto noticed him hesistating and handed him one.

“Ringo Otome. They’re famous in Nagano. Fugaku just went on a business trip there. They go beautifully with green tea.”

It took nearly half an hour for Shisui to remember why they were there. He had eaten several of the ringo things, some ice cream mochi, and had started on his second cup of tea. His mother and aunt had been chatting back and forth. Most of the conversation bored Shisui - talk of his uncle, work, medication, uncle’s smoking habits. The last bit seemed to upset his aunt, her pleasant smile vanishing from her face.

“He tries to hide it, but comes home reeking of smoke, Saki.” Mikoto sat her tea cup down, reaching for one of the neatly folded cloth napkins she had placed out for them. Shisui watched as she refolded it, pressing each crease carefully. “It’s bad enough he’s smoking again, but lying to me?”

Shisui peeked up at her from behind his own cup. She was dabbing at the corners of her eyes. They looked full and unhappy, but she laughed and brushed it all away when Sakiko tried to comfort her.

“It’s just a lying husband. It’s not all that bad.”

Shisui scrunched up his eyebrows. He was always told not to lie, and got in big trouble when he did. Especially when he lied to kaa-san. If it hurt Mikoto oba-san so much, why wasn’t she upset? Or was she upset?

He nibbled on another otome. He didn’t really understand his oba-san, but he liked her well enough. And he decidedly did not like his oji-san already.

“...I know it’s hard on him, Saki, but I’m the one taking care of him. I give him his medication. I see what happened - what is happening - to our little boy. And yet he’s the one who’s sneaking around.” Mikoto’s voice got small again, and she looked exhausted, as if mentioning her son brought all the pain she hid to the surface.

Wait, her son...?

“Ita-chan is home, right?” Shisui forgot instantly why he was brought up, excitement bubbling up and causing him to grin wide. “Where is he?” Even knowing he wasn’t in the room couldn’t stop him from whipping his head back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of his little cousin.

Mikoto frowned ever so slightly. “He’s in his room resting at-”

“Where’s his room?” Shisui was up in a heartbeat, ready to make a beeline for his cousin. Sweets and tea were nice, but his legs were itchy, and his thoughts got too loud and fast when he had to sit still for so long. Maybe they could play tag? Or build something? Maybe he had video games?

His thoughts were cut short by his aunt’s stern but gentle voice. “Shisui, Itachi is ill. He can’t play like normal boys. He needs to sleep.”

Shisui whined and pouted at that, much to his mother’s embarrassment and horror, but eventually was scolded into sitting quietly as the two women went back to chatting away. He eyed the two warily, plotting his escape.

It turned out his plotting was unnecessary - though he was sad to scrap the great Bathroom plan (pretend he had to pee and wander the house until he found his cousin). His aunt had recently started a tiered herb garden - “I can’t leave Itachi alone,” she explained, a slight pained expression on her face, “and a normal babysitter just can’t handle him” - and insisted on showing Sakiko. To his delight, Shisui was told to stay inside at the kotatsu. He put on his most innocent face, big eyes and smile, and promised not to move an inch.

Mikoto gushed at how cute Saki’s boy was. Sakiko looked unconvinced, but followed her imouto outside anyway.

He jumped up as soon as the backdoor shut behind them. They had passed some stairs on their way in, and he bolted up them now. He tried a few doors in his search, finding a bathroom, a large bedroom, a drab room with a desk and far too many cabinets, until at last he found the right one.

Itachi’s room was larger than his own, but the space didn’t make it as inviting as it should. The whole room seemed cold. There were no pictures on the wall, no toys scattered about. Shisui suddenly remembered where he first met his aunt, in a cold room that smelled so clean it burned his nose. Everything about this room made him want to leave.

Until a big pair of tired eyes caught his own.

Tiny, pale fists wiped at those big eyes, the small boy yawning as he sat up in his bed. He peeked at Shisui curiously, but didn’t make to get up or greet him.

Shisui didn’t know why he expected Itachi to be his age - he puffed out a cheek, upset at himself. Of course his cousin was younger. Of course he was smaller.

Was he supposed to be that small though?

Now, Shisui wasn’t great at a lot of things. He hated numbers, refused to type at computers, and had nearly sprained his ankle the last time he “played” baseball. But he knew he was great at talking to people. He made friends easily, and people loved being around him.

He was told Itachi wasn’t like normal boys, but Shisui wouldn’t let that stop him. He grinned wide at the boy as he plopped right next to him on the bed, earning an even bigger eyed stare than before.

“Hi. i’m Shisui. We’re cousins, but I don’t have any brothers, so call me Shisui-nii, okay?”

The boy blinked his doe eyes at Shisui in response. Shisui looked around the room again, his smile unwavering. “You don’t have any video games, do you?” Blink. “Well, what do you do for fun?” Blink.

Shisui huffed and threw his hands back at the bed, leaning on them. He frowned up at the ceiling for a minute before looking back over at his cousin. “You have toys, don’t you?”

Itachi cocked his head to one side, staring at Shisui for another minute. He didn’t look sad, or happy, or angry, or even tired anymore. Shisui scrunched up his nose, studying his little cousin as Itachi did the same with him. Eventually, ever so slowly, the younger boy crawled out from underneath his covers and placed his bare feet on the floor, heading for his closet. Shisui noted his night clothes had little black birds on them, and found it utterly adorable.

Itachi came out of the closet with his arms full. He gingerly placed his findings on the bed, then sat himself in-between Shisui and the stack of books.

He nearly groaned as Itachi carefully looked at each book. “Those aren’t toys. Those are booooorrring.”

Itachi seemed to ignore his whining, carefully picking up his books and studying the covers until he found the right one. With his decision made, he handed it to Shisui and looked up at him, big, quiet eyes and long lashes and too-pale skin.

Shisui looked down at his cousin. He had bandaids on his upper arms, pink with kittens on them. His wrists were so small he looked fragile. “What do you want me to do with this?” He finally looked at the book in his lap, and remembered seeing it somewhere before - it was about a turtle and a cat. One for little kids, too.

“Read to me?”

Shisui blinked down at his little cousin. His voice was small, but he didn’t sound nervous. Just quiet. He nodded slowly, though he wasn’t nearly as reluctant as he made himself out to be. “But just one, I’m too big to read this stuff.”

Itachi’s smile wasn’t big like Shisui’s. It was quiet, just like his voice and eyes. But Shisui found it fit his Itachi perfectly, and grinned right back at him before launching into the story.

By the time Sakuko and Mikoto discovered them, Shisui had read through the stack and started over, Itachi curled up tight against his chest with his eyes barely open. He was scolded the whole way home for not listening, but he found, for once, he couldn’t feel sorry for what he did - even if he was grounded and told several times how serious Itachi’s “condition” was.

He curled up in bed that night and slept peacefully. For once, he didn’t dream about moving or his father’s raised voice, but of ways to make Itachi smile.

#shiita #shisui #itachi #fanfiction #mywriting

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musicofthenightphantomoftheopera · 7 years ago

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Dear Voltron Fandom (an open letter)

Dear Voltron Fandom,

You don’t know me, but I know you. Before I get into this, allow me to introduce myself so I’m not a stranger. My name is Paiton. I’m 19 years old, and I have high functioning autism, and the character I relate to and love the most is Pidge. I have traversed through many a fandom in my life so far. From Avatar:The Last Airbender, to Sailor Moon, Steven Universe, Disney, you name it! All of these fandoms are loving and wonderful in their own way. However, every fandom has a dark side; It’s just the nature of fandoms, unfortunately. Despite that, I was able to look past that, and be proud to be a part of them! But NEVER have I EVER been more ashamed of being in a fandom when I got dragged into Voltron. Before that, I heard rumors of how toxic the fandom was and all of the crazy stunts some fans tried to pull in order to get what they wanted into the show. So, I tried to avoid the show and its fandom like the plague at all costs.Two months went by and my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to check out the show just to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out I really liked the show and Pidge quickly became my favorite! Hell, I even started a Pidge Ita Bag; just added the first charm to it a couple of days ago! I started out just keeping to myself on my quiet little tumblr blog just reblogging fan art and fics as well as interesting theories and talking to my friends about it. And I can’t forget about buying Voltron fan swag! All was well, despite the occasional bits popping up about the latest fandom disasters. That is up until quite recently. I thought I had seen it all when I had to fight to defend Sailor Moon fans that were being bashed for liking Sailor Moon Crystal or for getting into Sailor Moon in general because of Crystal. I thought I had seen it all when I saw SOULESS Steven Universe “fans” telling an artist to kill herself for drawing Rose Quartz skinny. I thought I had seen it all when I saw the Brony fandom in general. But this....sending death threats to the voice actors and their families, blackmailing the creators in order yo make Klance canon, and a rumor that some antis were burning fanart?! This is absolutely UNACCEPTABLE! To those who participated in ANY of these horrible actions or any other crimes against the fandom, you ought to be ASHAMED of yourselves! Your actions are SHAMEFUL and you should /feel/ ASHAMED. People like you are a disgrace to this and every other fandom out there. You are the reason why the Voltron fandom has such a bad reputation. Now for the sake of this not being me dragging the voltron fandom for the entirety of however long this is going to be, I’m going to play devil’s advocate for a minute or two. I know that not everyone in the Voltron fandom is bad. Hell, my best friend is a Klance shipper and a Lance fangirl and she’s one of the chillest Voltron fans I know! And you want your ships to be canon, I get it. Every fan wants their ship to be canon, weather its a strait, or LGBTQ+ ship. We need more LGBTQ+ representation in...well, pretty much everything really. And it is coming. Its getting there, but its gradual and you have to be patient! “Patience yields focus” , in the immortal words of our beloved Space Dad. But I also understand that fandoms can change things as well. The first example that comes to mind is Kim Possible if any of you reading this are old enough to remember. When Kim and Ron finally got together in the movie that was supposed to be the series finale, the fans flipped every last crumb of their shit and wrote in, demanding another season. And another season they got, ending with Kim and Ron graduating high school. So fandoms /can/ change things, but this.... Blackmail, death threats, is NOT the way to do it! If anything, stuff like that will steer people away from creating representation just because of the sheer mass hysteria it causes within fandoms! Its the toxic people in the Voltron fandom that pull this sort of stuff that steered me away from the show in the first place. To the toxic people in the Voltron fandom who call themselves proud members of the community. You know who you are. I am calling all of you out. You are not fans. You are bullies. Plain and simple. The kind that beat up the little kid with glasses and stuff them in a locker for being a nerd. The kind that steals lunch money in the cafeteria when the teacher isn’t looking. The kind that spread awful rumors about that shy little girl that likes anime, telling her that nobody would care if she died, only worse. You are the very same kind of bullies that I tried to get away from by joining fandoms (supposedly an accepting environment for people who are different and like the same stuff) in the first place. Now I am the kind of person that doesn’t have a temper. However, stuff like this is one of the very few things that get me righteously pissed off. But I don’t yell, or scream, or punch a wall. Instead, I channel that anger into fuel I can use for something else. Which is what made me write this open letter to you, the Voltron fandom. Like I said earlier, not everyone in the Voltron fandom is bad. To all of those that just enjoy the show and respect other people’s ships, or don’t give a dam about ships at all. thank you for being decent human beings and trying to clean up the mess these toxic, souless antis made of our fandom. After seeing all of this I can tell you that I am officially 1000% DONE with this bull. So I am calling the antis out. Consider this a reality check for ALL of you. This is a fucking CARTOON. The people you are shipping so feverishly together are fictional characters. Underline the word “Fictional” as in “not real”. At the end of the day, they are just a bunch of lines and colors moving frame by frame and voiced by real human beings with feelings. They are not above emotions like some of you idiots think they are. When are you going to get it through your tiny brain cases you call heads that how you are acting is childish, immature, and just plain sadistic?! I want to get something strait right now. I do not hate the voltron fandom, not at all. I hate what its become. These horrible antis and haters and toxic people are infecting the fandom like a deadly disease; like a fast spreading plague that causes the slow and painful death of its victum. However, unlike the real Black Plague, there is a cure! And a contagious one at that! So I’m sending out a call to action to every decent human being in the fandom! Those who are here just to enjoy the show for what it is with other people and have a good time, the older fans who got into Voltron: Legendary Defenders because they grew up with the older versions, the Multishippers, those who are respectful of other people’s ships,, or don’t give a dam about shipping at all, as well as those who keep their accounts as safe spaces for all fans. Do your girl a solid and help make the Voltron fandom a better place. Please, be a voice for good. If you see a fan getting harassed by an anti, just politely shut them down. Don’t go full on Leroy Jenkins and fight back, don’t feed the trolls, guys! Just politely tell them to back off and ignore them after that. Then, turn around and try to cheer up the person who got harassed! Share your favorite fan art pieces with them or give them fic recommendations! Who knows, you just might make a new friend! If you see someone you follow on any social media platform doing any of the bullshit I’ve previously mentioned earlier, unfollow them immediately. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life and neither does anybody else. Let your followers know that your account is a safe space for all decent Voltron fans to geek out and that there is a ZERO TOLERANCE policy for antis. If someone disagrees with you on your ship or theory, politely ask them to explain their reasoning in a civil manner. Get a dialogue going so the whole thing doesn’t turn into an all out screaming match. It can be done, people! It is possible! It just takes a little effort. It may take some time, hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but I beleive we can fix the fandom if we all work together. Now I also want to take a moment to send a message. To the voice actors of Voltron; Bex taylor Klaus (My Queen), Jeremy Shada, Steven Yeun, Josh Keiton, Kimberly Brooks, Tyler Labine, Rhys Darby, and A.J. Locascio. To the Co-Creators of Voltron; Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery. I am not apologizing for the actions of the toxic part of the fandom (that’s a mess they gotta clean up themselves), but I am speaking for the good part of the fandom and myself when I say that we apologize for what these souless people have put you through. Nobody should ever have to go through that just some people want a small sense of validation in their ship being canon. We love all of you and we hope that you can find it in your hearts to give the fandom a chance to redeem itself. I wrote this in hopes of waking some people up and start to to change things for the better. At least that’s what I hope will come of this rant that I wrote all in one sitting at 4 am. Just know that we all love and respect you and I am going to try my hardest to help change this fandom for the better with the help of my friends and followers, as well as the rest of the fandom that actually has a soul and a conscience. We are going to try and remind everyone that we are all on the same side. We all love the same show and the same characters and the same story. After all, we’re all made up of the same cosmic dust.

signed,

Paiton

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lizzybeth1986 · 7 years ago

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Nuestra Familia (RCD MC: Astrid)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Rating: G

Pairing: Astrid-centric, minor Seth x Astrid

Summary: Astrid realises she doesn't know her family as well she had thought. Minor crossover with The Freshman/The Sophomore/The Junior.

Author's Note: This is a bit late for MC Appreciation Week, but I figured I'd put it out there anyway. This is my origin story for Astrid Ortega, my second RCD MC, who is involved with Seth. There's a cameo of one character from TF/TS/TJ in the end and I have a feeling you folks have already figured out who it is 😅 I used (of course) the "crossover" prompt from this list for my fic. I'm tagging @choices-mc-rules, in case they would still like to reblog this.

Translations:

Nuestra familia - "our family" in Spanish.

Chanclas - slippers/flip-flops

Tres leches cake - Typically a very moist chiffon cake soaked in a mixture of evaporated milk, condensed milk and heavy cream. Tres leches literally means "three milks".

Abuela - one of the terms used for ‘grandmother’ in Spanish.

Ita - Short for Abuelita, also used for grandmothers. Astrid calls her grandmother the former, her mom Teresa calls her grandmother the latter.

Manda Huevos - Can mean a lot of things according to context, but generally used to express a range of emotions, such as annoyance, disappointment, contempt or disbelief. In this context, Teresa means “it's not fair”.

If I've gotten anything wrong in terms of references, please do tell me, and I'll definitely fix it in the fic.

“One more foot inside my kitchen and it'll be my chanclas for you later.”

Teresa Ortega said these words to her daughter Astrid, in the same tone one would use to offer a guest some tea.

It wasn't that her mom didn't allow her kids to help with the cooking. She did. Salome was too young to do much but set the table yet but Astrid (and her big sister Letitia, whenever she was home) often pitched in to help with the meal.

But heaven help anyone who tried to help Mom with her tres leches cake.

This recipe was from Mom's Ita’s faded little diary, passed down to her by her mother on the condition that she would learn its recipes off by heart. It was her pride and joy, Mom would often say. Her baby before her actual babies came along.

And today it was even more essential Mom get this cake right. Astrid's abuela was visiting, and ever since Astrid's mother insisted on naming her Astrid (“She’s already named my first and last - at least leave the middle one to me!”) she could do nothing right.

Perhaps it would've been easier to handle if Dad wasn't Abuela's only son, if Mom had someone she could jointly ignore Abuela with, if they had cousins they could play with while the adults sorted out their issues. Or perhaps not. Still, it would have been nice to know.

“Easy, mom, I'm not going to touch your precious cake,” Astrid said, grinning, “Lemme demolish it at lunch instead.”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tempted, though. She could get the scent of baked cake wafting in all the way from her bedroom, and her mother was already starting to combine Carnation milk, condensed milk and 1/4th of a cup of heavy cream into a thin, but somewhat creamy, mixture.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Why are you here, then?”

Astrid felt the muscles around her neck tense up, but schooled her face to a look of injured innocence. “What, can't I just want to talk to my mom once in a while?”

She craned her neck a little further behind Astrid, a tiny frown beginning to form between her brows. “What's that you're holding behind your back?”

Ding! The cake was ready now, just in time for soaking. Astrid let out a sigh of relief. She wanted Mom to see this wedding card, yes - it was why she came to the kitchen in the first place - but now was probably not the time for questions. Questions about family or about secrets. Not when she knew how important it was for her mother to get her weekend cakes right.

“Family” was always a big deal around the Ortega table. Dad was his mother's only child, and Mom’s parents passed on long before any of them were ever born. Her father was as annoyed by Abuela's antics as her mother was, but it never stopped him from having her visit every Sunday because “she's the only family we have left”.

It was as if he needed her to keep himself rooted, as if without her he would be floating aimlessly, no aim or identity, taking his wife and children down that path with him. Abuela knew this. By God, did she know this.

Or so I thought, Astrid said to herself, gripping the wedding card tightly and creating new creases where the word Ortega was written.

Mom was gritting her teeth now, carefully pouring the three-milk mixture over the cake and muttering to herself. “One more word about dry cake this time and I'll give her soggy toast, I swear I will.”

Astrid would have stood up last week and said something to Abuela, if only Mom would let her. It was probably a good thing Leticia wasn't around, she'd fire shots at Abuela for less. She was protective over all of them and often in the heat of the moment she'd forget she’d be landing them all in further trouble.

She was still muttering. “Wants chiffon cake. Screams bloody murder if I use box mix. What, Teresa, looking for shortcuts again?” Mom's voice was raised in an accurately nasal imitation of Abuela's voice. It was almost like she'd forgotten Astrid was there. “Then I make it from scratch like she wants. Then it's Oh Teresa this is so dry oh Teresa it tastes like sawdust. Why else do you think I use box mix, eh? You want it from scratch and you want moist. ¡Manda Huevos!”

The diatribe kept Mom occupied while she finished pouring, so Astrid kept silent. Mom needed this. This wasn't something she can say in front of Letitia (resulting in another Sunday screaming match) or Dad (what would he do?) or Salome (no way would the kid ever take Salome, language! seriously again). Mom needed someone to have her back, no matter how silently or secretly. And that someone had better be her.

“If only Linda had stayed…”

Astrid froze. “What did you say?”

Mom looked up, blinked twice, then stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing.”

Silently, Astrid handed over the card she'd been holding, all this time. She found it while searching for her dad's treasured García Lorca poetry collection, hidden between a page that exalted love and a page that mourned loss.

Mom took it from her, her eyes widening as she read the words.

LINDA ORTEGA

and

DOMINIC SANDOVAL

request the honour of your company at their wedding.

“Dad always told us he was all Abuela has, right,” Astrid said, “The only Ortega for miles around."

Mom answered by busying herself with more activity than ever. Keeping the soaked cake in the fridge. Pouring the remaining milk mixture into two glasses. Washing her hands. Washing the dishes.

“I'll do that for you,” Astrid took a plate from Mom's hands, “Just talk to me.” She grabbed a sponge and dish washing soap, cleaning vigorously. “All this time, Dad's been telling us Abuela's the only family he has, Mom. Like, he has no one else. Like, we have no sisters or brothers besides the three of us. Was he lying?”

“You're wrong,” Mom said, her voice suddenly sounding sharper, harder, “Abuela's the only family he has left. Your father didn't lie.”

“Just omitted the truth, yeah,” Astrid wished she knew how she felt about this. Right now there was so much she was feeling that she didn't exactly know where to begin. “There's no “together with our parents” above their names either. Not like yours’.”

Mom sighed, picked the card up, then held up two glasses of milk-mixture in front of her. “Take one and give the other to your sister. I have a lot of work to do.”

On any other day, Astrid would have grabbed that glass and relished its creaminess, wiping the milk-moustache off her mouth with a flourish. But today no amount of sweetness was going to take away that weird metallic taste in the roof of her mouth.

“I'm not done asking about this,” Astrid said, scowling, “to you or to Dad. If I have aunts and cousins out there, that's something I wanna know.”

Astrid did try in the weeks to come. But she never saw the wedding card again, and neither Mom or Dad ever responded when she raised the topic again. Still. It felt nice to dream.

Every time Abuela made a snide remark at lunch, she imagined her cousins there. A snarky younger girl who’d make smartass comments. A strong boy her age who’d shut Abuela up with just a glare. A nice aunt who’d take Mom's mind off all this nonsense. It didn't help much, but it felt nice.

It felt nice knowing she had company out there. Somewhere.

6 years later.

“Donuts, Iowa?” Seth’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect. He was more a bag-of-chips kinda guy most days, but he also liked having massive sugar rushes before a comedy gig.

“As long as the insides of six of those are practically spilling over with fruit jam, I'm game,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It felt exhilarating, freeing. She hadn't felt this normal in a while - normal enough to kiss her boyfriend without worrying about paparazzo jumping out from a bush. There was a guy in a leather jacket she didn't recognize - three blocks across - looking at her like he wanted to talk, but not in a way that made her feel unsafe.

That was the nice thing about Northbridge. People looked, sure, but they were less likely to make you feel like an exhibit from a zoo.

“Wait here, yeah?” Seth said, planting a kiss on the lips instead, “I'll be back before you can finish spelling “OHIO” with your arms.”

Astrid laughed. Seth said the most Ohio things sometimes. Neither of them had had this much fun since she was offered a lead role in Tender Nothings, which was why Seth always jumped at a chance to take up gigs in Northbridge, and why he always offered to take Astrid along when she was free.

The guy from before stepped forward a few minutes after Seth entered the donut shop. The summer heat must have been too much for him - his leather jacket was now slung over his shoulders. “Um, hello. Astrid Ortega?”

He stood with his hands in his pockets, mouth pursed into a thin line, a tiny curl slipping carelessly from his hair and resting on his forehead. She caught a peek at the tail end of a bird tattoo (Owl? The tail looked pointy) on his left arm.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering whether it was her or Seth he wanted to talk to, “but I don't know what your name is.”

“ Zigmund. Zig for short,” he replied, looking behind him from time to time, “My sister Lucy’s a big fan. Asked me to help her get an autograph from you.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah. But she doesn't want to come out. She's shy.”

Ah. So that was the cherry-red blur barely hidden by that building. She learned long ago that no matter how friendly you appeared, your image would precede you and intimidate people anyway. Autographs were great, but somehow she didn't want to stop at just that.

“Would she come out now if I asked?” she gave him her sunniest smile, “Tell her I won't bite.”

Zig hesitated, then nodded. Astrid watched him walk to the other building, move his hands expressively as he tried to convince his sister to join him (from that angle he almost looks like Letitia, Astrid thought), and return with a curly-haired, starry-eyed teenage girl.

“H-hey,” she said, then blushed, clearly embarrassed by her nervousness. Silently, she hands over her autograph book. She keeps her eyes studiously away from Astrid's face. “I, um, I like mystery films, and I really, really liked Tender Nothings.”

A girl after my own heart. “Maybe you'll like Sunset Boulevard, then,” she said, smiling.

Astrid could have just signed and left it at that, but there was something about these two. Something about the way they stood together, or exchanged glances, or something, that reminded her of home. Which was silly. But it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to leave a good impression on them.

“What would you like to be when you grow up, Lucy?”

Lucy didn't miss a beat. “Ballet dancer. Like my brother.”

Astrid smiled, particularly at the look the girl gave Zig. Yes, she could see on second glance that even though some people would say he didn't have the body of a dancer, he held himself with a certain grace, a certain lightness that belied a stronger core. Hit by a sudden rush of inspiration, she quickly scribbled a little note to go with her signature, and asked Lucy to read it.

To Lucy and Zig, future (hopefully!) best ballet dancing duo in America. Be sure to save me a seat when you folks get famous. Love Always, Astrid.

“Wowwww,” Lucy whispered. Zig suppressed his smile, trying not to let how he felt show, and failed. A corner of his mouth lifted upwards, revealing an almost-invisible dimple.

The two left before Seth brought his box of donuts,but they thanked her at least thrice as they walked away.

“Wait till I tell Mom about this,” Astrid overheard Lucy tell her brother as they left, “I told you she'd be really, really nice.”

“You did,” there was a note of indulgence in Zig's voice.

"Ortegas all around the world. Wherever we're from, we're nice.”

Had Seth come out a moment later, Astrid would have probably walked up to them and asked. Perhaps asked them where they were from and their parents’ names.

But Seth was here, with donuts, and there was never a moment she could take her eyes off either.

“Do you know those two?” Seth asked her, passing her a tres leches cake donut that was claimed to be one of their best, “They looked familiar.”

“”No,” Astrid replied, closing her eyes in bliss. Mmmm. The treat was taking her back to Des Moines, back to home, back to her mother's little kitchen. “But I wouldn't mind meeting them again.”

#fanfic #red carpet diaries #the freshman #the sophomore #the junior #rcd mc #astrid ortega #seth levine #zig ortega #lucy ortega #seth x astrid #playchoices crossover #seth x mc #mc appreciation week

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supergenial · 4 years ago

Text

[translation+lyrics] Artificial Rose by Roselina

youtube

Well I’ve procrastinated this one long enough. Pretty cool 2019 album with some gothic and yuri vibes, unfortunately the composer seems to have done nothing new ever since, and I have kept my eye on them all along. Hopefully they’ll come back some day because this album is really great, pretty telling that I still keep it in mind over a year later. Lyrics down below and see you all next time.

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

Composer for the entire album: Mame

Vocals for the entire album: 三七

花占い

(hana uranai, Flower Divination)

owaranai hanabira kazoete fuseta matsuge furuete mo yawarakai koyubi wo karamete hiraite yuku shoujo no mama futari no kami wo kasaneau kaori made wa ubaenai ima wo akai kuchibiru wa kegarenai iro

counting up the endless petals I close my eyes as they flutter around me with her soft little finger wrapped around mine the girl is opening up to me both shrouded in each other's hair even your aroma takes me away but even now your red lips remain untarnished

ai ni aite ai motome yureru dake no nonohana hitohira yurusarete hoo no netsu ni tokaseba saite saite kizutsuite mo yureru kaze wa yamanai yukusaki ni wa hana mo nai

tired of love yet wishing for love we are but fluttering flowers so allow this petal to melt in your cheek bloom, bloom even if it hurts don't let this wind stop where we're headed there won't be flowers

kakushi kirenai nureta manasashi wa kogetsuku kizuato nokoshite hikari wo tozasu no

I can't hide this tearful stare only my wounds can shy away from the light

ai ni aite ai motome yureru dake no nonohana hitohira yurusarete hoo no netsu ni tokereba saite saite tsume wo tateta senaka uso wa shitteru koko ni wa mou hana wa nai

黒い花嫁

(kuroi hanayome, The Black Bride)

yurusarenu omoi kokoro no oku ni sasaru todokanai kimochi owari no ne ga kikoeru

these unforgiveable feelings pierce my heart these unfulfilled feelings play along to this tune of demise

「nee, doushite ano hito?」 wakari kitta kotae wa yukusaki wo nakushi yugande kieru

"why, why that person?" but the answer is obvious I've lost my way, but all doubts are gone

itsumo yumemiteita doko ni demo aru mirai wo wazuka na hikari wa toke koboreochi nagareru

I always saw it in my dreams, a future full of possibilities but that dim light has dissipated, it's entirely ran off

shiawase no hibi ga watashi wo kuro ni someteyuku tsumetakute kienai namida nagashite aishiteru hito wa watashi dake dato tsugeta no ni itsuwari dato shirazu watashi wa hohoemu

I've stained in black my days of happiness This cold won't fade away, these tears continue to roll My loved one told me they only loved me not knowing it was a lie, I smiled

kitsukanu furi wo shite kakushita uso de katamerareta kokoro no kizu wo nikushimi de nuiawase kibou de tsutsumi konde mo mou moto ni wa modosenai

I hid the fact I noticed but the lies only worsened the wounds in my heart This hatred was sewn together with my hope and so it can never go back to how it was

itsuka yumemiteita kono te ni aru zetsubou wo anata to tomo ni wakachiaeru ano sekai wo

I dream some day the despair in these hands can also be shared with you so you'll know this world

shiawase no kane ga watashi wo kuro ni someteyuku kanashikute hakanai hana wo chirashite aishiteru hito wa anata dake dato tsugeta no ni itsuwari dato shirazu anata wa hohoemu

I've stained black the bell of happiness It's so sad how fleeting a rose's petals are My loved one told me they only loved me not knowing it was a lie, I smiled

「aa, kono mama nanimo shirazu ni ochiteyuketara ii no ni... zutto ugokanai anata wo mite watashi wa shizuka ni warau」

"ah, how I wish I could remain blissfully ignorant... instead I just look at you, and laugh"

Bloody Justice

shiroi sora kara maiorita hikari matou tenshi wa akai tsurugi wo furikazashi inochi wo karitsutsukeru shikabane no yama no ue shoujo ga niramu saki ni janen to chi de nureta seigi no hikari

descending from the white skies the radiant angel wields its red sword continues to hunt lives the girl stands atop a mountain of corpses glares as the light of justice has been tainted in blood and wickedness

heiwa motome inoru hitobito 「hane aru mono ni wa chi no batsu wo」 naze sadame ni hito wa aragau kodoku kegare ukeirete

the people pray for peace 「the winged ones will judge by blood」 yet people fight against their fate as she is tainted in solitude

aa sono tsuyoki chikara wa dare no tame no mono nano? sora ni motome eta shinjitsu wa kokuu no naka wo samayoi ai ga kieta sekai ni kobore ochita namida wo kazoe onore no hirikisa wo shiru

ah, for whom is such an immense power wielded? the truth sought after by the heavens is an empty sky she sheds another tear for this world deprived of love knowing true powerlessness

kiyoki chikara wa hikari de kibou wo yadosu hana to naru hitotsu no seigi wo shinji tachi agaru

this pure power, this light will turn to a flower that wields hope believe in one true justice and stand up to fight

jouka wo motome inoru tenshi 「hane naki mono ni wa sabaki wo」 itsushika daichi wa mude michiru yowaki kokoro ukeirete

the angel that wishes for a cleanse 「I will judge all the unwinged ones」 someday it will deprive this land of it all even if it's discouraged

aa sono akai namida wa dare no tame ni nagareru? yami ni motome eta kotae wa tozasareta kokoro no naka ai ga kieta sekai de sagashi tsutsuketa ikiru chikara saigo no kagayaki wo tomosu

ah, for whom do those red tears flow? for those who've been deemed dark, letting her heart close up In this world deprived of love I'll keep searching for the will to live Until the last light fades

kiyoki negai wa omoi wa inochi wo yadosu hana to naru hitotsu no seigi wo shinji tachi agare

this pure wish to turn into a flower that bears life believe in a single justice and stand up to fight

Artificial Rose

kono garasu no ori no naka ni toraware mamorareta ikiru hana mada kienai yume no naka de anata ga yoko de sasayaku

Inside this glass prison lies trapped a flower that it guards like it's within an unfaded dream the one where you whispered laying next to me

「ai wo shiranai hana wa, nan wo motomete saku no?」 katachi nai kotae wo sagashi tsutsukeru

"a flower that knows no love, why would it ever want to bloom?" I'll keep searching for that answer

hitotsu no omoi ga egaita keshiki wa masshiro na kuuhaku dake no sekai de kagami ni utsuru hitori sumi de naku watashi wo yasashiku ukeireta anata ni deaete shiawase wo mitsuke tsunoru omoi wa kotoba ni natte kodoku no iro ga kieru sono toki made zutto ai wo kanaderu yo

a single feeling colors this scene a world only covered in white reflected on the corner of a mirror I'm crying because I received your kindness I finally saw happiness upon meeting you these raging feelings turned to words and so until this single color fades away I'll keep in tune with this love

ah, itsuwari no bara wa akaku karezu ni ah, yurusareru no naraba 「douka soba ni ite」 to...

ah, this artificial rose with it's unwilting red ah, if you'll forgive me then "please, be by my side"...

ai wo motometa bara wa inochi no nagasa wo shiru hosoku natta anata no yubi ni kasanete futatsu no omoi ga tsumuida sekai wa shizuka ni owari no toki wo mukaete futari ga utsuru garasu koshi no tooi hibi wa akaneiro ni somaru

a rose that does wish for love knows how limited life is as I caress your fingers our thoughts weave into our own world and we silently await our departure we both look back on those distant days which were so vividly red

anata ni deaete shiawase datta to namida koraete hohoemu futari inochi no oto ga kieru sono toki made zutto ai wo kanaderu yo

meeting you filled me with bliss so we'll both restrain our tears and smile until the tune of life stops beating I'll keep in tune with this love

Lilac

awai hikari no naka yubi no saki de fureta kokoro wa shiroku fukaku yasashisa motometa

within the faint light our fingertips touched our hearts reaching for that pure, deep kindness

kaze ni yureru hana wa tada nani wo iwazu ni naiteta konai asu no saki wo mitsume

the flowers waving in the wind cry without any words being said as they stare at the tomorrow that won't arrive

towa ni tsutsukanai sadame ah, owaranai yume wo mite

a fate that can't continue forever yet a dream that won't end

omoi negau yo soba ni iru kara warau kimi to no shiawase wo se ni futari kawashita tooi yakusoku

these thoughts and prayers are always by my side your laughter will always be with me and so will that promise we exchanged

「itsumademo zutto」

"always, forever"

moshimo tsumi ga kiete subete yarinaoshi ni natte mo ima no kimi to mata aeru kana

if my sin ever fades, I'd like to redo it all over again if only I could meet the current you

hanarete yuku hikari kieru te tsukamenai mama kimi to ita kioku wa mou suna no you ni kuzurete

the light draws away I can't grasp your fading hand my memories with you crumble like sand

dakedo nakanai yo soba ni iru kara kieru kimi to omoide wo se ni futari kawashita saigo no kotoba

but let's not cry because they're still by my side my memories with the you that has faded those last words we exchanged

「itsumademo zutto」

"always, forever"

You can buy the album digitally over at their booth!

(also lmao, I was going to post a translation for this instead, but right as I was about to queue it I checked the comments on that video and saw someone else had already done it! I scrambled this one up real quick to keep my self imposed deadlines. Good to see other people are finally doing what I shouldn’t be doing!)

#roselina #artificial rose #translation #lyrics #full album

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bolbianddolanhouse · 6 years ago

Text

BNHA self insert AU

Nani the heck is this? read here!

Chapter 3: Itati the Suspect

I have survived 7 weeks now and I want to breakdown a little to help me cope with the stress of midterm projects and exam. Kirishima still doesn’t trust me, Bakugo addresses me by my last name now, Iida is trying to justify his past mistake still, Midoriya is pestering me about lucha libre, Todoroki is about one more ‘senpai’ away from another ass whoopin, I’m still not friends with any of the girls of 1-A and for some strange reason, Tokoyami and I are becoming friends.

-Thursday, in Stats and Strats class with Jin-

“UGH! Ita end my suffering!”

“I can’t, I’m too mentally exhausted to do anything!”

“wonder how Mimi is doing?”

*cut to Mimi in her history class*

“Ok I know Russia is an axis power BUT Putin can still eat my ass”

*cut back to Jin and I in class*

“Oof just 20 more minutes Jin”

“AaaaaHHHHHhhhhh!”

The class joins in on the groans of agony until class gets out. I pack my stuff and think about if I had the mental capacity to go through one more day of that damn hero class before the weekend. I get a text, its from Iida

[Hello Palma-san! How are you feeling? If you ever want to talk about what’s making you sad, I am here for you, ready to listen :)]

“wow Ita, that glasses boy won’t leave you alone huh?” said Jin as we walked out of the classroom.

“ugh he’s just texting me because I cried in the middle of hero class because I was so stressed and I couldn’t hold it anymore”

“oof big mood”

“yea it was so embarrassing I was almost tempted to teleport out to my car to let it out”

“I dunno Ita, kinda looks like that boy likes you”

“hahaha very funny Jin! what makes you say that?!”

“bitch you pretty! and smart,” Jin said, not joking “also he’s like right there, low key spying on us”

I turn to where Jin is pointing and there he was, hiding behind a pillar. Didn’t even try to find a better hiding spot.

“Oh hey Palma-san! and fellow student! I was just um” said Iida very nervously “I was just around”

“you were just around the Intelligence wing?” I said, pinning him to his lies “right around the time Jin and I walk to the parking lot?”

“precisely! um now that I’m here, are you alright?”

Dammit! I got emotionally cornered, I gotta slide in my excuse and leave because I don’t want to talk about it. Before I could even start talking, Jin speaks up,

“Actually, she was going to head home and I’m going to find Mimi and do some hood rat shit” Jin said flashing me that devilish smile. He’s making me talk to him for his own amusement!

“Um yea, I was gonna go home! like, right now, excuse me Iida-san” I said to counter the whole situation “I bet you want to go home too”

“oh then lets walk home together!”

“don’t wait up! Have fun you two” Jin said portaling himself to Mimi. I hated him so much at this moment.

“Sooooo Iida-san, I assume you wanted to talk because of my random crying huh?”

“yes! I was concerned that something happened in your family or somebody said a hurtful comment about you before class and you got sad.”

“well this time is was different”

“oh? how so?”

“when I get really stressed, I cry to let out my frustration or in extreme cases, I throw up”

“stress crying? do you have alot of things to get done?”

“yea BUT once I go home and finish my paper and my portion of project I’ll done and I’ll be much happier!”

As I say that, we reach the parking lot. Then I remembered that he doesn’t know I drive and have a car! It’s been my dirty little secret I’ve kept from everyone in 1-A. Only Mimi and Jin know and they don’t care that I have one but every one else would.

“Um Iida-san” I said softly “can you keep a secret?”

“oh course! you have my word!”

“you have to promise me” I say as I get his chopping hand between my hands “absolutely nobody should know about this! it can ruin me but I trust you to keep this for me.”

He looks at my hands holding his and how warm, soft and small mine were. He brings his other hand to the others and nods, locking in his promise. If he wasn’t so annoying, I would’ve kissed him right then and there, but not today. I take my hand away and reach for the hidden pocket in my coat and take out a set of keys on a wristlet lanyard.

“thats alot of keys” Iida said softly like I had no business having so many keys.

I then flip to my car key and point it toward the parked cars and click on the unlock button. A tan colored Jeep beeps and flashes its lights in response. Iida’s eyes widen.

“you have a car?!”

“yea I got special permission not only bring the car over from America but also get a Japan drivers license” I say as I pull out my drivers license.

“wow, what a strange and unique life you’re living” He says in amazement as he looks inside my car “your secret is safe with me!”

“I’m glad I can trust you with this” I say with a warm smile of relief.

We say our goodbyes and part ways to go home. I finish my work just in time to have 5 hours of sleep, which is the most sleep I’ll get in the school week. I prep my outfit for my civilian clothes conceal and carry midterm and sleep. I wake up feeling like lechuga, fresh and pretty. I get to school and do my thing, I feel like I passed my midterm but barely.

-walking down the hero wing-

“I’m telling you All Might! She has incredible power that she’s undermining” said Midoriya to All Might “I don’t understand why she doesn’t want to be a hero”

“Young man I’ve heard of her and while Midnight didn’t tell me all the details, I want to meet this brave young lady” All Might exclaimed “shes a hero in her own respect!”

I’m listening to all this as I turn the corner and think great another group against my decisions that I didn’t make for myself. Oof.

“Look thats her!” As I’m mid-sip of my coffee.

“Oh! Hello fellow American! I’m All Might, pleased to meet you”

I chug my coffee in dominance, “And I’m a hot dog wrapped in a burrito, Katya” I said to confuse the two before teleporting to class.

-inside the classroom, while the All Might and Midoriya encounter-

“I still don’t trust her bro” said Kirishima to Denki and Sero.

“I don’t see how her being intelligence makes them untrustworthy” said Sero

“Yeah! she’s so nice and did you see her put Midoriya in a submission knot yesterday?! so powerful too!” said Denki

“Can’t you see you knuckle heads! she’s a spy to gather information about us for an outside source!” Kirishima said “why would somebody clearly powerful enough to take down the class sitting down and smart enough to gain the trust of the pro heroes, be in this school?”

“you know what, now that you mention it, she’s always with those two other kids.” said Sero “the big Russian one and the thin one with the portal quirk”

“they’re in on it too! The Russian is the guard and lookout, the thin one is the transporter, and Palma-san is the messenger and assassin.”

“Guys you’re being absurd!” Iida cut in the conversation “Palma-san is just a student here, willing to learn, like the rest of us!”

I teleport in. And I sigh that there’s still people that won’t leave me alone. I turn to walk to my desk and I see everyone staring at me, and I don’t understand why.

“um hi everyone!”

“you look so...”said Aoyama

“CUTE AND PINK!” squealed Mina as she ran up to me for a hug.

Oh right! I wasn’t wearing my uniform! I was wearing my pink pom-pom dress with pink iridescent long sleeves and jelly boots to match. I get alot of compliments as I get to my seat, Kirishima was eyeing me as I moved. I’ve gotten use to his staring, I wasn’t hiding anything. Class starts and we take our midterm, easy peasy for me!

“you can leave if you’re finished with your exam Palma-san” said Aizawa as I got to the front to turn in my exam.

“oh are you sure? Is there no lesson after or announcement?”

“well, there is an announcement but it doesn’t affect you if it’s opposed” he said while looking over my test, “come by after school to the classroom to see if it got opposed or not”

“okay, Ill do that, thank you”

I get my things and make my way to the Intelligence wing, I wonder what the announcement was? I catch a glimpse of a tall man in a yellow pantsuit, fuck its American stereotype man. I teleport before he could see me, little do I know that I was being watched and followed by Kirishima.

“what is that girl up to?” Kirishima thinks out loud, “what kind of person doesn’t want to be around All Might?! A person that doesn’t want to get caught with their facade!”

He heads back to class and I wait for Mimi and Jin to get out so we can eat and plan out the weekend. There’s going to be an Intelligence student kick back on Saturday and we need to coordinate. We eat, plan and go about the rest of our day.

“Ok I’m heading to the hero wing, see yall tomorrow”

“wait why?” said Mimi, unwrapping her hard candy.

“Because she’s meeting up with her glasses wearing Prince~” taunted Jin.

“eww no! I have to meet with sensei” I retort, though I don’t mind the idea of Iida being my boyf, he’s changed since our incident.

I part ways with Mimi and Jin to head to the classroom. I remembered yesterday’s events and how he looked at my hands, his hands were warm and his gaze was soft and-

“Well! look who’s here!” said Kirishima, breaking my train of thought.

“oh Kirishima! you startled me” I exclaimed “I was on my way to the-”

“save it, spy!”

“Spy?”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB I know why you’re here, you’re a spy sent by the highest paying villians to take down our hero school”

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“I don’t know what kind of movies you’ve been watching but I’m just some foreigner that barely made it in” I calmly said “if you would excuse me, I have to talk to Aizawa sensei”

“I don’t trust you, Palma-san, or your friends” he said as I walked past him.

I get to the classroom and Aizawa asked that if I’d like to participate in the Sports Festival as a competitor. I politely decline the offer as I am not interested in taking part. I then head to my car and I see Iida, waiting for me.

“So what did you say?”

“oh, I said no thank you” as I unlocked my car.

“what?! why? its such an honor that you even got the invite”

“yes I understand that but I’m more of an observer during these things, I’ll be rooting for you”

“I see, well, have a restful weekend Palma-san” he said “you look very lovely in pink.”

I tried so hard not to blush and think about that comment all evening. It’s not like he WANTS to be my boyfriend, he’s just trying to be nice because I’m struggling emotionally. Yea, thats it! It has too!

*cut to Iida talking to his brother*

“I like her Tensei but I don’t know how to tell her I want to BE MORE than friends”

“Tenya I don’t know what to tell you! I don’t have a girlfriend either” said Tensei “maybe if you just leave flowers with a note confessing she’ll get the hint?”

“Its worth a try, I can’t contain my feelings for her like this much longer,” Iida said, trying not think about her “is it wrong of me feel like I found my wife?”

“those are some strong feelings, but if you don’t speak up and treat her right, you could lose her to somebody else.”

*cut back to me getting ready for bed*

The weekend plays out so well with chores getting done in the day and partying it up saturday night until sunday morning. Like we planned, Jin portals us to a Mcdonalds then home. I get home and I’m a mess but happy that I didn’t stay in. Sunday was my rest day and I got my work done for the next day, the start of the chillest week of the semester.

-Monday, in the 1-A classroom before ethics class-

Iida is taking out a folded note with ‘Palma’ on the front in his best handwriting. Today was the day he was going to confess but was extremely nervous. He takes out the iced coffee from his bag and stands up to walk to my desk. Others notice him,

“I didn’t know you drank coffee Iida-kun” said Midoriya

“oh no, its for um, Palma-san” He said softly.

“You got her a coffee? You lost a wager too?” Todoroki said confused.

“I didn’t, I got it for her because I wanted to” he said “she deserves a treat after a very stressful week last week.”

“ok then so-” said Hagakure, snatching the note from Iida’s hand “what’s this? Looks to me a confession note.”

“Please don’t-”

“oh WOW it is! You really like her! How romantic of you to get her coffee and ask her for a coffee date in the note.” said Yaorozu.

“please don’t say anything! I want her to feel not pressured to like me back, I care about her feelings and freedom of choice.”

As he got the note back and shakily made the walk to my desk, I walk in.

“Hi everyone!” I say in high energy.

I walk over to my desk and see Iida holding the coffee.

“oh I didn’t know you drank coffee Iida-san”

“Oh yea this,” he blanked out for a moment, “yea I drink coffee all the time.” He then opened the top of the drink and chugged it right in front of me. Everyone else that knew what was supposed to happen, looked in shock and face palmed that he didn’t go for it.

“Delicious cold caffeine, my favorite!” he said after chugging the drink.

“oh cool, I learn more and more about you everyday” I say smiling, not knowing what’s going on.

“Hey you have the-” Tokoyami said turning around when I sat down.

“You know I do” I say taking out a bag of sunflower seeds, “here you go.”

“I didn’t know you and Tokoyami were like that” said Mina like she was trying to cause something.

“Ha no, I had some sunflower seeds a few days back and didn’t know he was in the tree I was sitting under and he saw the seeds and sent dark shadow to snatch a few. He really liked them and I said I would give him a bag when midterm week was over.”

“These seeds are American brand! And they come in interesting flavors” exclaimed Tokoyami, opening the bag and getting a handful.

Class started and it was chill with just some workbook problems. Iida wasn’t feeling the best, mostly because of that iced coffee. Class ends and Iida stays behind a bit to talk to me.

“Hey Palma-san! Are you going to go eat with your friends?”

“Yea probably”

“Can a join?”

“let me ask them real quick” I then go to the hallway and start singing All Star from Smash Mouth. I stopped to hear if Mimi or Jin sang back in response. Silence.

“they said no”

“How do you know they said no? Or if they even heard you?”

a portal suddenly appears.

“I heard you were talking shit about me and-” Mimi and Jin said in unison, heads poking out of the portal.

“We have a lil system in place, for yes or no’s, danger, escapes...you know the important stuff” I say as I climb in the portal.

We portal away and Iida is left standing there and thought about how the hell he’s going to confess if he blanked out just trying to set up for it. He goes to find Tokoyami since he’s the only other person in the class thats close with her.

“Tokoyami!? Are you out here?” Iida yells in the school patio.

“Yea Iida-kun? I’m in the tree with the hole” said Tokoyami perched in the tree with the bag of sunflower seeds Ita gave him in class.

“oh?! um hey question, since you’re so close with Palma-san, what do you know about her?”

“I’m not that close to her, she likes to pet dark shadow, she speaks spanish, she lives near me, ummmm she likes dark chocolate.”

“wait. You live near her?”

“yea, I saw her at the Sunday farmers market in the plaza a few weeks ago,” Tokoyami said with a mouthful of sunflower seeds “and as I was leaving, so was she and I saw her walk to some apartment complex half a block away from where I live.”

“Hmm... She didn’t see you that day?”

“Nope, she was alone and I don’t know how much she pays to live in that complex! It’s gated and heavily guarded that I was scared to be on the same side of the street!”

“that does seem a little odd” said Iida, now wanting to know more about her situation “thank you Tokoyami, sorry to disrupt your lunch hour.”

Iida walked away with more questions than answers. He remembers what Kirishima said about her and her friends being a spy group. He didn’t want to believe it was true but with her habits, systems with her friends, her avoidance of All Might and sudden appearance in the school system; it was strongly suggested that she could be running an inside job. It bothered Iida all day until after school, where he waited at her car.

“Oh Iida-san, you’re here!”

“yes um I wanted to ask you something”

“oh what is it?”

Frick, Iida thought, I don’t know if I should ask if she’s a spy or confess!

“I- I was going to ask if you wanted to study with me after school- on um FRIDAY!” Iida panicked to make up something.

“Oh sure, I have no plans after school friday.”

“Great! I was needing some help with English, Mic-sensei doesn’t make sense sometimes”

“cool, I believe that hehe, where at?”

“would it be alright if we studied at your place?” Iida said hoping she wouldn’t pick up on an alternative motive.

“Sure, I haven’t had a guest over since I first moved here”

“Then I’d be honored to break that streak”

-Fast forward to Friday-

School lets out early due to preparations for the sports festival. Before meeting up with Iida; Ita, Mimi and Jin hatch a plan in case things get bad.

“ok review plan team!”

“Jin is going to portal himself and Mimi to inside my apartment before I go meet Glasses”

“I will send the dog emoji text to Ita to confirm that we are in the apartment and in position”

“Jin and I are going to be positioned in the extra room, ready for any signal to deploy action in civilian clothes that we sent with Ita yesterday along with food ration for the hours of confinement”

“I will give the signal when we enter and when he leaves”

“and if everything fails and/or we get caught?”

“Jin and I will do the fake-out make-out and do a pretend fight”

“ok everything is planned out” I say as I put on my pink sunnies “time to deploy operation KEEP ITA’s STUDY SESSION SAFE, code name KISSS”

They portal out as I head to my car, unknowingly aware that Kirishima was listening to us the whole time.

“I KNEW THEY WERE UP TO SOMETHING!” Kirishima thinks out loud “I have to warn Iida that he’s in danger.”

He texts Iida

[Hey, what are you up to?]

[I am meeting with Palma-san to study]

[About that, you’re in danger.]

[What are you talking about? How is it dangerous to go study at somebody’s house?]

[I just heard her and her friends hatch a plan that involves you]

[What did you hear?]

[They said that they’re going to hide out in the apartment and wait for the signal to ambush you. They have backup plans and everything!]

[I’m not backing out on her, we are already on the way to her place]

[BE CAREFUL, text me when you leave. If you don’t I’ll assume the worst and contact the authorities]

[I’ll do that much, thank you for your concern Kirishima]

[👍]

“Who’s texting you so much?” I said as we pull into the apartment parking area.

“Oh it’s Kirishima”

“oh? That boy thinks he has everything figured out about me” I say as I turn off the car. I then I get a text, its Jin

[🐶🐕🐩]

“who’s texting you?” Iida said suspiciously.

“its Jin, he sends me the dog emoji to let me know he got home”

“oh what good friends you and those two are!”

We walk up to my apartment, Iida sees all the guards and lower rank heroes patrolling the perimeter. It rises his suspicions but he really hopes that it’s not true. I open the door and he’s hit with the smell of lavender, lilies and sage.

“I adore that scent, are those fresh flowers?”

“oh glad you noticed, they are” I say as I flip on the light “I buy my flowers from this farmers market down the street.”

“Oh? Well you have good taste, your place looks very bright and clean.”

“Thank you, may I offer you something to drink? Water? Coffee? Pressed Juice? TEA?” I said trying to tie in the signal with conversation.

“Pressed Juice please! What kind do you have?”

“This weeks blend is watermelon, cucumber and lemon.”

I give him the juice and I pray to God that nothing goes wrong. I have the strongest urge to just take off my bra because I’m home, I have to change to check on Mimi and Jin. Lucky for me, you can’t see my bedroom door or if I have an extra room so I can easy go to my room and check on them.

“Here’s your juice, feel free to get some snacks from the counter and get comfy, I’m going to change out of my uniform real quick.”

“Oh ok I’ll just take out the materials”

I dash to my room and get nakey and slip on clean shorts and spiderman t-shirt my mom sent me recently. I teleport in the extra room to check on Jin and Mimi, they’re ok and are ready for anything. I teleport back to my room and walk out to the living room to see Iida looking at the picture of Mr. Muffins on my counter.

“Ok I’m back, what did you need re-explained again?” I say to get things started.

“Oh yea I needed help with adverbs-” he said while turning to me and caught a glance at my shirt, “I didn’t know you were a fan of Spiderman?”

“huh, oh! I’m not, its just a shirt that my mom sent me”

“So how is his hero work? Does he travel to other parts of the United States?”

I forget that pro hero culture is a real thing outside of the US.

“uh Spider Man isn’t a real hero, he’s just a comic book character” I say breaking the news as nicely as I could, “but Batman is a real thing!”

“He’s not real? Then why glorify him like he is?!”

“You could say the same about certain anime characters” I say trying not to say the forbidden word.

We get to studying and I get help with some of the hero course lessons that I slacked in. I keep worrying about Mimi and Jin but it seems like nothing is wrong, yet.

“So I heard from Tokoyami that you speak Spanish? Is it true?”

“He told you? well duh of course I do”

“It’s just so impressive! You know english and Japanese plus Spanish?! I can barely understand english language rules” he said passionately “You truly are a rarity to behold.”

I blush really hard “oh uh thank you but really, it’s my culture that makes me this way”

He sees that I don’t want to talk about myself, he puts his hand on my hand. His heart starts racing and ,even though you can’t hear it, so does mine. Quickly somebody say something before I do something stupid like kiss him or ramble!

“I really want to know more about you so I can be your friend” he said squeezing my hand slightly “I want to be somebody you can depend on outside your program.”

I calm down a bit, phew he just wants to be my friend. I know I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship but I also absorb any and all physical affection. Iida was internally screaming because he didn’t mean to say friend, he meant to say hero. As in being her man and hero to protect her always. It was too late to fix what they said now. So Iida stayed a bit longer then headed out. I gave the flickering lights signal to say that he left and they can come out.

“Oof Ita can’t believe all this just to get friend zoned”

“press F to pay respect”

“F” we all say in unison.

Meanwhile, Iida is walking home, lamenting that he messed up his intentions. He then remembers to contact Kirishima,

[I just left her place]

[And what happened?]

[nothing, we were just studying]

[They probably were trying to get information before they attack]

[I don’t know what the truth is, but it’s inconclusive]

[You’re just saying that because you like her]

Iida stops responding, he was half right. There’s nothing they can do but just sit and wait for something to happen. One thing is still bothering them about Ita, Why is she here, alone?

-End Chapter 3-

#bnha #mha #self insert au #chapter 3 #will update regularly #not canon #ask me anything

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