#ran straight to my israeli friend after because she Gets It

[thehumanbeans]

goyim look up what zionism means challenge level: impossible

[47-shades-of-hitman]

In Your Likeness | Chapter 2 - You seem familiar

Four weeks later

 The white noise of the lights around buzzed in your ears.

Sebastian walked up to you, cup of tea in hand.

“Here.” he said, placing it onto the table, the teaspoon resting in it rattling at the movement.

You sighed, leaning back, putting down the small pieces of equipment you were holding. Instead, you wrapped your arms around the hot mug, relishing in the sweet smell that came from the herbal beverage. You never took your tea with sugar, but opted to not tell him.

“Thank you.” you mused, smiling at him whilst bringing the cup up to blow into it, cooling it down just slightly. “Where would I be without you?”

Sebastian scratched his beard and smiled. “Well, for beginners, you wouldn’t be in sunny Jerusalem if it weren’t for my lead on a Piece of Eden.”

“That’s my lead, too!” sounded from the other side of the room, followed by a crumpled piece of paper being thrown at Seb’s head.

“Oi! Yeah, I get it, Miranda.”

“Sunny Jerusalem, you say?” you countered playfully, bending over your work again. “Then tell me, why are we hidden several floors underground instead of floating on the Dead Sea? I could’ve stayed in Tel Aviv to do more research there.”

Sebastian perched himself on top of the table you were working on, taking a swig of his coffee.

“Oh, come on (Y/n). You love Jerusalem. No-one who knows the city as well as you do. You’re only glad to be back.”

A large grin spread over your face, knowing he was right.

“(Y/n), take a look at this.” Miranda appeared at your side, handing you a yellowed folder.

“What’s this?”

“Information about your new target. Azra El-Sharani. A dangerous woman, mind you. She might seem harmless, but according to our spies, she killed her own husband. Templar ties? No doubt.”

You whistled through your teeth, flipping through the papers Miranda had so carefully compiled.

“I like a challenge from time to time.”

“This is not a game. Especially not here, on this soil. It’s drenched with blood of all kinds. Let’s not add too much to that, please.”

You tipped your chair back so you were leaning on its hind legs, balancing it just right.

“I know, Miranda.” you said. “I know this place like the back of my hand, but I know when to  not  strike. Thing is, if I don’t remind myself to have fun every once in a while, I might slip into madness. It’s not only what  makes  me the best at what I do – it  keeps  me that way, as well.”

Miranda nodded, her blonde curls bouncing at the movement of her head.

“Naturally. On with it.”

“Of course.” you replied. “I will let you know when I leave.”

As she walked off, the heels of her pumps clicking almost obnoxiously against the floor of the bunker, you leaned forward again, returning to your work. The acetone was sharp in its scent and stung in your nose, yet had evaporated in the time you had left it to dry. With practised ease, you re-assembled your bracer, clicking the blade back into place.

“You need to eat before you go.”

“Do I?” you asked your friend. “I believe I just had tea. With sugar, even though I never really take that in my hot drinks. That should give me enough energy for the rest of the day.”

Sebastian hopped off the table and followed you suit when you stood and made your way over to the exit. Grabbing your coat, you threw it over your shoulders. Despite it being your summer garment, it was immediately sticky against your bare skin.

“(Y/n), I am being serious. We can’t have you faint on us.”

“Being peckish keeps me sharp, Seb.” you explained, putting on the bracer. From the chest underneath the mirror hanging on the wall you took another gauntlet, this one equipped with built-in tranquilizer darts, which you could use should the need arise. You wished you had it on you on your previous contract the other day  – that rival hitman, of whom you didn’t know the name. 

He had crossed your mind more than once this month.

You shuddered, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the aversion you felt towards the ICA or the vivid memory of his  impossibly blue eyes.

“Are you sure you’ve read the file well enough? We could go through it together while enjoying some sandwiches? I could get you some falafel, too? Or something sweet… Babka?” Sebastian tried.

You sighed, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Time is of the essence and there is no way that I can wait any longer. Jerusalem is waiting to be rid of her Templars. My absence has made the lower ranks lazy.”

Sebastian let his shoulders hang, knowing that there was no use in pressuring you any further.

“Alright.” he said, “Enjoy your surroundings. Many people would be jealous of you, regarding your whereabouts, I mean.”

You laughed a little at the IT-manager. “Oh, Sebastian. No one should be jealous of me in any regard. Anyway, isn’t your break over already?”

Sebastian checked his watch, hiding the expression of shock on his face. “Shit, I’m five minutes late. Never mind, I’m the manager after all. Good luck on your endeavours, now.”

You nodded and folded your hands on your back, watching him trot away, a certain spring in his step he always had whenever he was late.

Before you left the premises of your quarters, you dropped by Miranda, just as she had asked of you. However, when you turned the corner, you ran straight into her, almost colliding against her shocked face.

“Oh, (Y/n)! You startled me!” she breathed. “I was just about to get you, really. I just got a call from the Council’s office. They want you upstairs.”

“Why? What is going on, have they told you? I was about to leave for that file, actually, I—”

“I’m not sure, but the Eldest of Council told me that you needed to meet with him right away.”

“Mr Howard?” you countered, feeling your stomach tighten. He was the highest ranking member of the Council, making you immediately nervous.

“Yes.” Miranda sighed, seemingly just as scared. If Mr Howard called for you, it couldn’t be good.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

You rushed away, pushing through the doors after straightening the lapels of your coat in the mirror. Walking up a few flights of stairs to where the Israeli Council had their headquarters underneath Jerusalem, your mind started to run.

Was it something you had said, or did you take breaks that were too long? No, if that had been the case, you wouldn’t be called into office. After all, you were the best Assassin they had and the most hard-working one at that. If you took a break that was ten minutes longer than planned, it—

You halted mid-step, standing still for a moment as realisation hit you. The agent from the ICA you had run into a few weeks back… Mentally cursing, you rubbed your forehead in frustration, resuming your walk to the main office, though with a heart that was even heavier. They must’ve found out that there were rivals on their turf. Took them a long while, too. Perhaps you should’ve reported it, but you hadn’t regarded it as a threat.

Oh, you were going to get the lecture of the century. On why you should’ve killed that hitman instead of letting him walk out, or at least how you should’ve neutralised him. About how he had probably now killed someone prominent within the Creed and that it could’ve been prevented if you had ended him. Perhaps you’d be banished for negligence or charged with the guilt of a fallen brother- or sister-Assassin.

Your knuckles rapped on the metal door in front of you and you took a deep breath. A Master Assassin felt no fear when it came to scaling buildings, killing people in high places, taking  Leaps of Faith. .. And yet, you were about to shit yourself because you had to speak with your superiors.

“Enter.” sounded the way-too-familiar voice of Thomas Howard, Eldest of Council and thus, the highest power when it came to the Brotherhood of Assassins. And so you went, closing the door behind you after slipping through the tiny gap you had created by pushing it open.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you were surprised at how confident your voice sounded.

“Yes, Miss (L/n). You may approach.”

The walls were covered in photographs of places, people and objects, red thread lined through here and there, revealing the on-going development of plans. You halted at the front of Mr Howard’s oaken desk, folding your hands on your back.

The middle-aged man looked at you thoughtfully.

“Miss (L/n)… You’ve been our best Master Assassin ever since your brother died. Is that correct?”

“Affirmative, sir.” you replied, swallowing away the lump in your throat at the mention of your deceased brother. “For five years now, sir.”

“Time and time again, you’ve proven loyalty to the Creed. I would trust you with the Brotherhood’s most secret investigations concerning Pieces of Eden and the extermination of Templar forces.”

You bowed your head humbly. “Thank you, sir. I’m honoured to hear that, sir.”

“Now.” he said, standing up, his robes swaying at the movement. “I need you to follow me.”

Why the secrecy, you wanted to ask, but opted to bite your tongue instead. It would be too rude a question, especially to the Eldest.

And so you went after him in silence, the only sound the beat of your footsteps.

“I will explain in further detail later, but we’ve picked up on a lead that runs deeper in importance than just exterminating the Templar Order. No, what we found will shake the world. You’re my most capable Assassin, so I need you on board.”

You nodded. “Sir, I’ve sworn fifteen years ago that I would do my all for the Brotherhood, that I would give my life and my dignity if it meant to serve it,” you paused before adding “...Sir.”

Mr Howard hummed in response. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, though.”

“Sir?” you asked, but he didn’t reply anymore.

“How about my other mission, sir?”

“I’ve placed Bethany on it. She’ll handle it just fine.”

“But Bethany is just a novice, sir. She won’t be able to—”

“I need you here.” Mr Howard said, displeased with your prying, and the tone of his scolding voice made you immediately cast your eyes downward.

“I apologise for my nosiness, sir.”

“Alright.” he said, and swiped a key-card to open a large, thick door.

The room was near empty, an ominous hue omitted by fluorescent light, a large table littered with files and documents in the middle. A few members from the High Council stood around, but an unfamiliar woman had her eyes on you. You locked her gaze to yours and raised an eyebrow.

Who was she?

“Here at last, Thomas.” an older lady you knew well stated, clearly unhappy with his late arrival. Siobhan Vermont glared at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“I apologise, Mrs Vermont. The most important thing is that we’re here now, and I guess there are a lot of questions.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but someone cut you off before you could even start.

“You withheld information from us, (Y/n). You forgot to mention a rival assassin roaming the streets of Jerusalem. Someone of your ability should notice a thing like that right away.”

Casting your gaze downward, quite ashamed. “I apologise, sir. I should’ve reported it, but I threatened—”

“We already knew of their presence.” Mr Howard said. “There is no harm done, yet keep it in mind next time something like that happens.”

Your head whipped up to him and you frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Mr Howard walked to the strange woman and whispered something to her. She nodded and went to the adjacent room silently.

“This is a mission we hoped we never had to plan, but the situation forced us into cooperation with people who have ties to the ICA. Something big is going to happen, something that will make the entire world shudder, something that will make the eradication of our own, current enemies seem insignificant.”

Mr. Howard ushered you to the middle of the room, to the table, and on the other side of it, someone was being led forward as well.

When you halted and looked up, resting your hands on the files underneath you. In front of you, mimicking your position, he stood. 

Icy blue eyes met yours, something in his gaze stirring.

“We meet again.” he dryly stated.

You sighed, feeling puzzled, then, your gaze hardening.

“So it would seem.”

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

lord, help

After a little playground drama, Tony has to deal with the fact that Tali really is Ziva’s daughter—through and through.

For @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee and @indestinatus, with whom I’m always getting into trouble. Also on ff and AO3

________________________

“Before I start talking, do you three have anything to say for yourselves?”

Arms crossed, Tony paces the short length of the dining room, watched closely by three dirty, nervous children. They’re sitting side by side at the table, chairs scooted close together as they huddle in solidarity, and they remain determinedly quiet.

“Alright then. Go ahead and tell me what you’ve done.”

None of them respond to this, either. 

Frowning, Tony pulls out a chair opposite his daughter and sits down. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, “I happen to know that you speak no fewer than three languages. I also know that you know I spent a lot of time in law enforcement… I’m pretty good at getting information out of people. You’re smart and you’re very eloquent when you want to be, so when I ask again, I expect a reply this time: what happened?”

Tali’s expression turns at once from anxious to defiant, and she matches her father’s earlier posture by crossing her arms. Then she looks away, silent as ever. 

“Well, Tali?” Tony prompts, feeling distinctly Gibbs-ish as he leans in and narrows his eyes.

Finally, Tali gives an answer, but it’s muttered mutinously under her breath and Tony doesn’t catch any of her words.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” she growls back, looking distinctly Ziva-ish, “that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Whose fault was it, then?”

“Gabriel’s. He started it.”

“What did he start? This would all be so much easier if you would just start from the beginning, baby girl.”

Tali huffs, glancing between her friends—neither girl looks particularly eager to jump in. As always, she has to do every dang thing herself! “Fine. We went to the park to practice, and—”

“Practice what?”

“Dad, you said it’s rude to interrupt! Ugh. We went to the park to practice krav maga. Gabriel saw us, and he asked what we were doing. I told him. Then he said we had to stop—we couldn’t do it ‘cause girls are weak!”

Tony files the ‘krav maga’ thing away to circle back to in a moment and focuses on the rest of the story. “And that started a fight?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

“Well, I said ‘maybe someday you can work your way up to “weak,” too,’ and that started a fight.”

Tony has to look away for a moment to compose himself, certain that he’ll laugh if he keeps looking at her. “I see,” he manages after a moment, his lips twitching dangerously but his face otherwise kept carefully blank. “Who threw the first punch?”

“Gabriel did!” Tali’s friend Geneviève pipes up, looking braver now that it seems for the moment that they’re not going to be yelled at. 

“And how did you three respond to that, ladies?”

“We just did what Tali has been teaching us, all the krav maga stuff!” This one comes from the third girl, Dina. 

Tony glances back at his daughter, who suddenly looks a little shifty-eyed again. “How long has that been going on?”

Tali shrugs uncomfortably.

“Are you qualified to teach krav maga, Tals?”

“No, but—”

“Do you know how to do it safely so no one gets injured?”

“No, but—”

“Wouldn’t you feel bad if Geneviève or Dina was hurt because you didn’t know what you were doing?”

“Yes! But—”

“But you think it’s still okay to hold krav maga lessons in the park?”

Frustrated, Tali bangs her palm suddenly on the table top, making both of her friends jump. “Yes!” she cries. “Because Ima said that every girl should know how to fight! She’s been teaching me!”

Well, that’s news to Tony. “She has, has she?”

“I just said so, didn’t I!?”

It’s a pretty common consensus around the David-DiNozzos that Tali takes after her father in most things, but… every so often, on days like this, she proves that she’s most certainly her mother’s child. Her temper is usually the thing that gives it away. 

“Don’t snap at me, young lady,” Tony responds sternly, but honestly, he wants to laugh again. 

“Hmph.” Tali makes her displeasure known with a glower, and she thumps back in her seat. 

Letting her stew for a moment, Tony glances back and forth between the other girls. “Did she tell the whole story?”

There appears to be a little silent communication that happens between the two, and then they turn back to him and nod in unison. 

“You sure about that?” he questions, his tone warning them not to lie. “You had to think about it for a little too long before you answered.”

Geneviève frowns, considering. “It’s just…” She pauses. “Gabriel plays in the park a lot. He doesn’t play like the other kids, though. He’s mean.”

“Yeah, he’s a bully!” Dina concurs earnestly. 

A few feet away, the lock on the front door slides free and the door opens, but the girls have their backs to it and don’t notice. Dina keeps talking. “He pulls my hair sometimes. Gabriel, he…” she wrinkles her nose and says something else that’s definitely not in French, which is what they’ve been speaking from the beginning of this “meeting.” 

Over the girls’ heads, Tony sees Ziva’s eyes widen as she walks in, and he knows that she must have understood whatever Dina just said. “Do you say words like that to your own parents, Dina?” his wife asks pointedly.

All three girls jump and turn around guiltily. 

“I, um…” Dina stammers. Like Tali, she’s a multilingual daughter of immigrants, and she seems to have forgotten that Ziva speaks many languages—including Russian. 

Ziva holds her reproachful expression in place for a beat before relaxing into a small, almost conspiratorial smile. “I will not tell… because I am sure that you are right. I think he did.”

Dina smiles shyly back, surprised, and Ziva joins Tony on his side of the table. It seems that she somehow knows the basics of what went down in the park, so he doesn’t bother to bring her up to speed. 

“Well,” Tony continues, drawing the attention of all three ten-year-olds back to himself, “I’m glad that none of you are hurt—and I’m glad Gabriel isn’t, either,” he adds. “But while knowing how to defend yourself is a good thing, you should never resort to violence unless you have no other choice, okay? Three people against one really isn’t a fair fight.”

Dina and Geneviève nod seriously, but Tali just snorts and mutters something under her breath in Hebrew. Whatever it is makes Ziva let out a strangled noise—Tony’s pretty sure that the noise is an aborted laugh. This entire series of events has him feeling the same way, but someone has to be the bad cop here…

So he nudges Tali’s foot under the table with his own. “Okay, Tali-Tee?”

She sighs. “Okay, Dad.”

Feeling like his fatherly duty has been fulfilled, Tony relaxes a little. “Alright. Now that that’s cleared up, you can go play again, but please, Jackie Chan and co., at least try not to start any more wars.”

Tali perks up slightly. “We’re not in trouble?”

“Not this time. But if I ever hear about you initiating any fights, I’m shipping you off to live with Grandpa Gibbs. He’ll set you straight.”

Tali is well aware that Grandpa Gibbs is wrapped around her little finger, so she grins. “Okay! We won’t!”

“Yeah, no fights for us!” Geneviève agrees.

“We won’t punch anyone!” Dina finishes, and without another thought, all three girls have flounced back out the door to return to the park.

Left alone with just Ziva, Tony starts to laugh, scrubbing his face with both hands. “God... and to think I used to hate the fact that I never got to see what you were like as a kid! Now I not only know a baby Ziva, I have to parent her, too!”

Ziva chuckles as well, laying a hand on her husband’s back and drifting it up to squeeze his shoulder fondly. “You handled it well, do not worry.”

Tony lifts his head to look at her, amused. “I wouldn’t have had to handle anything if you hadn’t decided to teach her Israeli martial arts.”

Ziva shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “I think she should be able to protect herself, and besides… it runs in her blood.”

“I guess it does… Lord help me, the only mere mortal in the middle of two born-and-bred ninjas. If Tali’s already picking fights with bullies at ten, I’m not going to survive her growing up.” He rolls his eyes, but he catches Ziva’s hand from his shoulder and squeezes it comfortably. “Anyway, how’d you find out what happened?”

“I ran into Gabriel’s mother on my way into the building.”

“Bet she wasn’t too pleased, was she?”

“No, she was not. But I told her that if my daughter hit her son, she almost certainly had an excellent reason for doing so.”

“You’ve never liked that kid, have you?”

“Not at all.”

Tony snorts. “Well, maybe he’ll stay away from the girls now.”

“It will be to his own detriment if he does not!”

“I’ll say. Tali can be fierce when she puts her mind to it, and Dina and Geneviève… Those three have always egged each other on. You know they get a little crazy when they’re all together—it’s total chaos, more often than not.”

“I am glad that Tali has them.”

“Me, too. They’re good friends to her, even if they’re always getting each other into trouble.” Tony pauses for a second, remembering something. “Hey, what did Dina say?”

Ziva laughs. “To translate it delicately, she said something like ‘that reproductive-organ-of-a-male-walrus deserved to be hit.’”

“I like the creativity… very Russian. And what did Tali say, right there at the end?”

“She was arguing with you… you said that three-against-one is not a fair fight, but she said that is not true here because Gabriel is stupid enough for three people all by himself.”

That really makes Tony laugh, and in the end, all he can think to reply is a thought that he’s already expressed today: “Lord, help... that girl is going to be the death of me.”

He really doesn’t mind, though. 

[be-more-chill-evan-hansen]

IT'S TIME TO MEET THE QUEENS KIDS MY DUDES

So I lost control and accidentally created three more OCs (which brings my grand total to a whopping YIKES of 10 oops)

***

Micky (short for Micajah)

● Gender Identity: Male

● Age: 19

● Hair: Black

● Eyes: Brown

● Ethnicity: Israeli Jew (2nd gen--his parents immigrated before he was born)

● Sexuality: Straight

● Other physical characteristics: muscular; nice smile; tall

● Other personality characteristics: nice but closed off; selfless but careful

● Is the leader of the Queens newsies (alongside Dragon Fly).

● He became a newsie when he was 12 (after his parents died).

● Regularly goes out and leaves Dragon Fly in charge.

● Usually is dead set on a plan, but Dragon Fly can convince him to reconsider sometimes.

● Is really nice but sometimes he is really stubborn.

● He isn't as much scared of Spot as he is respectful and wary of pissing him off.

● Tough but gentle.

● Can have fun but will get serious when he needs to.

● Is “acquaintances” (he doesn't use the word friend lightly) with pretty much every newsie in the surrounding boroughs.

● During the strike, he was the one that made them wait until Spot gave the word.

***

Jiffy

● Gender Identity: Male

● Age: 16

● Hair: Black

● Eyes: Brown

● Ethnicity: Chinese-American

● Sexuality: Questioning

● Other physical characteristics: lean (as in he's thin but fast and good in fights if the occasion arises--but won't admit to participating); has freckles that he's self conscious about; average height; circle glasses

● Other personality characteristics: sweet but very awkward; loyal as hell; keeps secrets; respects everyone

● He's an errand boy for Queens (because he's so fast).

● His speed is why his nickname is Jiffy (“I'll be back in a jiffy” for those who haven't caught on).

● He was being picked on by a Delancey while running errands in Manhattan and he accidentally punched him in the face and almost broke his nose. It bought him enough time to get away.

● He never told anyone about it.

● Now he avoids the Delanceys on his errands when he gets the chance.

● And by “avoid” I mean throwing himself into random alleys to get out of view.

● He ran into Liberty while they were both running errands to Brooklyn.

● She took a liking to him.

● He's honestly a little intimidated by her.

***

Tricky

● Gender Identity: Female

● Age: 12

● Hair: Reddish Brown

● Eyes: green

● Ethnicity: Mexican-American

● Sexuality: Questioning

● Other physical characteristics: biggest eyes ever; cutest smile; freckles freckles freckles; tiny but very fast

● Other personality characteristics: trickster; small scale prankster (she met Race when he came to Queens and he taught her everything he knows); sweet but feisty; knows when a plan is too much

● Can charm her way out of anything.

● She usually got herself into the situation to begin with.

● Her charm and tricks help get paper sales.

● Her pranks involve more of the motto “confuse don't abuse” as in she will move furniture around or rearrange other items in the room.

● She and Jiffy are like brother and sister (and she gets him the most).

● She sells with him a lot on his slow days and splits her pay with him (he hates when she gives him money, but if he tries to give it back, it makes its way back to him in some strange way that he can't explain).

● Spot met her once and doesn't like to admit that her adorable charm works on him (he loves her).

***

Questions can be sent to my asks.

I'm so excited to incorporate them into my future stories! (Which btw I will try to get done sometime soon)

*

Tagging people who might be interested or excited

@i-got-personality

@i-guarantee

@marcusisaprettygay

@suddenly-im-respecsable

@well-the-kids-do-too

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@galaxytrees13

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@crazymecjc

[megbox]

2018 Year In Review

Previous Posts: (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011) 

2018 has not been a banner year for self care. It has not been a banner year for much of anything, to be honest. This year in review will be much less colourful and exciting than they traditionally tend to be. It has been a year of hard work, stress, and feeling the pressure of the less-fun parts of adulthood creeping up on me. It has been really hard, to be totally honest. I have spent the majority of the year in a deep state of exhaustion and distress. There are positives within it all, though. Big positives, such as: 

I went on my longest trip ever away from home. 

I have developed so much in the professional sense and have fallen so deeply in love with social work and my future career path. 

I have made new friends who reflect these changing influences in my life, and the enduring friendships that have survived all of these years continue to strengthen and deepen as time goes on. 

January: 

Tell me - why does January always suck? 2018 began with an opening double shift on New Year’s Day, which I feel is strongly symbolic of the year as a whole because you have an exhausted Megan struggling to responsibly balance my professional responsibilities, self-care, and partying. On January 3rd, Alex and I booked our flights to Asia and in doing so, solidified that we were going through with a plan made drunkenly over the table last summer at a karaoke bar. 

I did get to spend an awesome ski weekend with Alesta, Sydney x 2, and Shelby. It was especially nice because this particular group of people had never spent time all together - we were just united by being a group of girls who love to ski. We hit Lake Louise on Saturday, stayed overnight at a hostel in Banff, and Alesta and I hit Sunshine on Sunday. In Banff, we got a free jug of sangria because we are cute girls. We went to High Rollers and Sydney was drinking IPAs and porters like a pro. I went alone (like... what? Who am I? How drunk was I?) to Dancing Sasquatch after and made friends with some Nova Scotians in line. One of them paid for my cover and bought me not one but two of those infamous Time Machine drinks and extra bonus - Alesta and I got FREE lift passes at Sunshine. 

At the end of the month, my mental health took a sharp nosedive into oblivion and I don’t even really know why. I started experiencing a violent resurgence of something I haven’t felt since the end of the 12th grade, having what I now recognize as panic attacks. The first one came when I was studying on a Sunday at Higher Ground and I had no idea what the fuck was happening, I’d been there for several hours when I suddenly felt the urge to throw up. I packed up all my shit and burst out the door literally gasping for air but ended up being fine. Just shaky and confused. They started happening more frequently after this, with no predictable trigger, and I started to feel the physical manifestations of stress. That was new and it freaked me out. This lent itself to a lot of strange patterns around eating (since I was constantly feeling nauseous, or I thought I was, I didn’t want to have a full stomach. I also thought I had a food intolerance, and because I’m me was 100% convinced I was pregnant because the stress caused me to miss my period). 

February 

Things started to get so bad in February that I had to plead my manager at Famoso for less hours. He was an idiot in general but also did not seem to grasp the severity of what I told him. He would frequently schedule me for these long swing swifts all weekend long, leaving no time or energy for the mountains of homework I had to do. It did not help. 

February was especially busy with school. That’ll be a recurring theme throughout this year. It could honestly be a summary of this entire year - so I’ll spare you the details. But five courses at the University of Calgary is no joke. 

I never needed reading week so badly in my entire life. I was beyond happy to just be able to take a long weekend and not be at Famoso. Shelby arranged for a giant group of her friends to spend the weekend at her friend Sawyer’s massive, absolutely beautiful cabin in Invermere. I got to spend some quality time with two of my favourite people on the planet - Emma and Sydney. From the minute we got into Emma’s car together, to having ciders at the Emerald Lake Lodge on the way, to eating A&W and sharing a bed and “she gon’ fuck the fridge.” Sydney and I spent one afternoon on homework while everyone else went skiing and I was with her when she got the news that she’d won this massive grant and we celebrated by sitting in this magical massage chair and just loving life. We played Drink, Talk, Learn! And I gave a drunken presentation on the history and etiology of pugs. Emma and I went skating on Lake Windermere to cure our hangovers on Sunday. A keg and a bonfire were involved. It was so Canadian, honestly LOL. And so perfect. 

March 

Although I was still struggling with this weird panic-nausea cycle, it lessened through March as more and more assignments were completed. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to use a cliche. I gave three presentations in a week, I remember that being particularly awful. 

I attempted Mellow March for the second time and once again failed. Mildly concerning. I caved on a Wednesday wing night with the Famoso friends. It was 27 days in. So close, so close. 2019 will be my year! 

I started getting really into podcasts at this time because I started commuting using public transit. I got really into Guys We Fucked (which I still love), and This Is Actually Happening. TIAH is kind of fucked up though, and after a while it started to fuck me up. I would have weird dreams about the content and I started becoming paranoid that there was something wrong/extraordinary about me. So I stopped. I guess that is something I have learned about myself this year, is that even when it’s not overt, I am really deeply effected by some of the things I learn. Typically, people of this nature do not excel in the field of social work so allow me to flag this as a place for improvement in the future.

I ran the 5km at the St. Patrick’s Day road race, which was awesome and I won the draw that everyone was entered in and got a FREE pair of these super nice, hot pink New Balance running shoes that I now cherish with my life. 

I had my first round of practicum interviews, which only ended up being one interview because I was offered the placement at CommunityWise before I could interview anywhere else. This is one of the best things to happen the whole year :) 

And a special moment for me as well was on March 31, I got to see Alvvays live. 

April 

In April, I finished hell semester and immediately jetted off to Thailand.

From the get go, the trip was a bit of a shit show. This was my second time to Asia, and my first experience with really planning a trip including flights, hostels, and transportation from place to place without the aid of a tour guide or travel company. We had a time even getting to Bangkok due to an untimely snow storm the day of our departure that forced our flight to Vancouver to be late and causing us to miss our connecting flight to China. After two hours in line at the Air Canada desk, an agent produced a new itinerary for us. Calgary to Los Angeles to Hong Kong to Bangkok. He printed the sheets out and when I looked at the times on the paper, the mental math wasn’t adding up. With me, the mental math never really adds up but this time it seemed impossible that we could leave so much later than planned for our trip and arrive in Bangkok only three hours later than we were supposed to. I brought this up with him and he assured me it was fine. I wasn’t satisfied though, and asked a bunch of other airport personnel the same question. They all said we were fine but lo and behold, we land in Hong Kong and are waiting for the Thai Airlines desk to open so we can retrieve the tickets for the last leg of the journey when the agent there tells us, “They put you on the flight that left yesterday.” Anger and distress ensues. I call Air Canada from the airport in Hong Kong and the call drops. I’m straight up crying on the floor at this point. But in the end – we fucking made it.

In Bangkok, I was welcomed back to the stifling heat and humidity of Asia. We met American doctors-to-be who were at the end of their trip and were totally sick of one another and were very happy to have company. We ate massaman curry for every meal, partied on Khao San Road (those nitrous balloons!!! God, they’re so fun!!), and spent a lot of money on a single cocktail just for a photo op at the top of a skyscraper but the sunset was perfect and it was totally worth it.

In Chiang Mai we drank Sangsom and Coca-Cola by the pool and ate street food out of Styrofoam containers. We met these Americans who were teaching English in Chiang Mai and they took us to a night club on the back of their motorbikes. I did a drug I said I’ve never do in one of the bathrooms at this night club and ended up going home with one of the aforementioned teachers. It was funny to me because at about 3:00pm, Alex and I went back to our hostel to change and get ready for the evening and at that point I said, “I think I’m going to end up hooking up with Cory.” I fucking knew. I KNEW.

In Pai, I had the DIRTIEST hostel experience of my life. I was showering… just fully naked and vulnerable in this nasty ass shower when I saw a bug I did not recognize from my sheltered upbringing crawl out of a hole in the wall. I have never felt more small. It was also 43 degrees and we were staying in a tiny hut with a plug-in fan that only worked half the time and somehow had the effect of making the room hotter? Pai was also the first time we rented motorbikes. It’s honestly so dangerous… like, what the fuck, Thailand. We experienced our first flash rainstorm. We went to a place called Sunset Bar and took mushroom shakes and holy shit I’ve never experienced more potent mushrooms in my entire life. We met our Irish friends who we’d later see in Koh Pha Ngan, and I slept with an Israeli soldier on our second-to-last night and I’m almost 100% certain I took his virginity.

Koh Pha Ngan was alllll thunderstorms. We also decided to splurge a bit on food on this island and gorged ourselves with seafood and lavender Moscow mules at this nice restaurant down the road from our hostel. We partied so hard. We went to the pre-parties for the Full Moon – they have the Waterfall party two nights before, and the Jungle party the night before. I had sex with a total stranger at the Waterfall party up against a rock (when I recounted this story to Steven upon returning home he put on a redneck accent and said, “C’mon baby let me take you down to the fuck rock” and now that’s all I hear when I think about this experience in my head). The Full Moon Party was fun but not AS fun as the pre parties. It wasn’t as wild and the beach is so big but everyone concentrates in one little area. I took some kind of mystery pill (as you can see, I was very safe in Thailand) and had yet another sexual experience with a casual partner. I also witnessed a fight in the taxi back because one girl called another girl a stripper. It was bad.

May 

Continuing on with our Asia trip.

We landed in Krabi and intended fully to chill out a little bit after the wildness of Koh Pha Ngan. The first night was chill, we were staying in the Muslim quarter of the Krabi area so there weren’t a ton of nightclubs to go to and the hostel had some kind of run-in with police and weren’t able to take us out on the pub crawl we signed up for (lame). We had a roommate from Vancouver on the second day who bought a bunch of Xanax from a Thai pharmacy and gave me one. I can never do it again because it was so. good. But of course, I took one pill and stopped drinking just in case. This bitch continued drinking and took six or seven Xanax throughout the night. I honestly don’t know how she lived. We went rock climbing and drank beers on a boat tour one day and it was soooo great. We had the hottest tour guide. I did a hike by my lonesome that I nearly died on.

On the ferry ride from Krabi to Koh Phi Phi is where I got the sunburn that will likely give me skin cancer in later life and kill me. 90 minutes on the outside deck of a ferry (because I felt nauseous as fuck and didn’t want to vom in the cabin) absolutely fucked. me. up. We stayed at another pretty fucking gross hostel in Koh Phi Phi, and my roommates were all male which was a new experience for me. I went on a solo booze cruise cause Alex was sick. We took mushrooms again with our Canadian friend Kelsey and god, I was laughing so hard I was crying and I could not stop. I was like rolling around in the sand laughing so fucking hard about Fisherman’s Friends candy. It was so blissful. So pure.

And then… the sickness. This is going to be TMI but… fuck it. A bit of indigestion and stomach trouble is expected whenever a white person enters Asia. Different microbes etc. etc. But this… this was on a new fucking level. I knew something was up because on the morning that we woke up to take our ferry from Koh Phi Phi to Phuket, I vomited. And I never vomit, and I wasn’t that hungover (especially in relation to much of the rest of the trip). I felt okay afterwards though so we soldiered on. Three hour ferry ride, totally fine. We board our bus that will take us from the ferry port in Phuket to our hotel and about halfway through this bus ride, I feel it. I am wearing overalls. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest, sweat begins to bead on my forehead. Holy fuck, I am going to shit my pants. I clench until we get to the hostel – which is, of course, the last stop. It’s like a solid 45 minutes of pain. My stomach is ROILING. I have never felt anything like it.

I honestly know nothing about Phuket because I spent the entire 72 hours we were there running from my bunk bed to the bathroom. I would go so far as to say every ten minutes. At one point, I just brought my laptop into the washroom with me and watched Netflix for a few hours. A roommate who was with us switched rooms (understandably… I’m sorry, Helen). I didn’t eat for four days, literally not a fucking thing. Just Gatorade and water so that I didn’t die of dehydration. Because we had an airplane to catch and I needed to not be shitting the contents of my body out, I saw a doctor. He prescribed me like five different medications and told me just to take like eight of these pills and to expect stomach pain but it would at least get me through the flight to Seoul and hopefully home.

It worked, and we spent the last few days of our trip in Seoul. What an absolutely fascinating and beautiful part of the world. With Kieun as our guide, we got to see the best parts of Seoul. People took photos with us and gave us free shit. I had the absolute best meal of my life (it was the first thing I’d eaten in like four days… I really risked it all with the Korean barbecue honestly…). All-you-can-eat thick fatty slices of pork belly, grilled in front of us and dipped in sesame oil and salt with garlic and spices. Spicy chicken feet on the side, corn with cheese. It was wild. I cannot believe I stomached it.

And on May 12th, we returned home back to our lives and school and work and all of that boring ass shit. I remained ill for a solid six weeks upon returning home. To a lesser degree, I still have not fully recovered. At this point, I am unsure if I ever will. I truly think that second-round Asia gave me skin cancer and permanently altered my gastrointestinal functioning. Worth it? Unsure. But it happened nonetheless.

June 

My brother graduated from university and won a very prestigious award and it was very nice to watch him cross the stage and hear a nice speech about his accomplishments (he won so many scholarships that he basically had a free ride to school – I think it’s clear who inherited the brains).

I finished up my spring courses. Can I just say - spring courses are the worst? The two I picked were especially bad. The one about human sexuality was basically Sex Ed 101 which made for an easy A but I was hoping to investigate deeper on a number of topics. And the second one was way too hard for my tiny brain to accommodate and I got the lowest mark I’ve ever gotten on my paper and it brought me down.

I had a very random unexpected night where I slept with a really close friend of mine (like, friends for over a decade) who I used to have a little bit of a crush on in high school. We were very drunk and it was kind of a curiosity-satisfying move that has actually not resulted in a very big change to our relationship at all but I think it’s worth mentioning because younger me would have been stoked. This one’s for you, younger me!

We went to the High River Rodeo and Cabaret – another unexpected move but oh my god it was so fun. Matt, Steven, Amanda and I. You could buy as many beers as you wanted at a time and they were cheap because fuck the AGLC apparently. The rodeo was actually super fun. The cabaret was redneck af and I happened to see my roommate from the hostel in Koh Phi Phi and his buddies there? Although it was not a friendly reunion because I had unknowingly exposed him for cheating on his girlfriend when he was in Phi Phi (which he did. I shared a room with him, and the girl he loudly banged every night until 4am). Two-stepping ensued and I passed out in the car ride home. I have a great photo of Steven from this night next to a bottle of hot sauce. I do not recall why. I will include it below. 

July 

Okay, I am just going to preface this by saying July was a hot mess. 

Myself, Madison, Maeghan, and Cayley were all single and messing around on dating apps so we decided to create Tinder bingo. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The rules were that you could only cross off two things per date (so that you had to go on a minimum of three to win), you got bonus points for going on a Tinder date with the same person someone else had gone out with, and the first to win got their drinks paid for on a night out. So, I went on exactly one Tinder date. Which is something I said I’ve never do and never really saw myself doing but I went for it on this occasion because I think that in this day and age, a Tinder date is an experience everyone should have. So I bit the bullet, and went for a drink with this guy James at the Oak Tree Tavern. And oh... my god? What a terrible experience? LAUGHABLY terrible. His only desired topic of conversation were the nationalities of people I had slept with and in what circumstances. At one point he asked me, “when was the last time you had sex? Was it good?” He also talked at maximum volume and I guarantee you everyone else at that bar overheard our conversation. Midway through the date, he asked for a review of how he was doing and I told him he seemed a bit nervous. This angered him. He said, “I’M NOT NERVOUS” and I was like, “you asked, buddy.” He asked me if I would pay for him. Cayley literally had to come rescue me and I ran out of his car where he had unbuttoned his pants and had his dick out and was literally on the verge of tears begging me to touch it so hard. I literally bolted out of his car and he yelled out the window, “CALL ME!” He still hits me up on instagram sometimes. I hope his life gets better. 

I also moved again. This is my favourite living situation I’ve ever had. Great roommates who are almost never home. Cute house. Good location. A+ choice by me. 

I got really obsessed with the Thai cave rescue. It was just such a compelling and unique STORY and I would literally come home from work and refresh the BBC live update feed for hours until I fell asleep, then I’d wake up and refresh hoping for good news. I cannot wait for the movie. I will go opening day. #Obsessions 

Stampede!!! Oh my god, what a wonderful Stampede. The most memorable thing is that Steven and I went to the standing rodeo one afternoon and got absolutely. fucking. hammered. Whilst there, we met and befriended two Australian retirees named Lyn and Ken. They are rich and are obsessed with horseriding and rodeo stuff. They purchased many drinks for us and we convinced them to come to Nashville North with us, where they purchased MORE drinks for us and Steven attempted to show them how to two-step. They later invited me to go horseback riding in Banff and I accepted. They literally picked me up, drove me to Banff, we crushed two bottles of wine at the Park gin distillery, went on a three-hour horseback ride through the mountains, they drove me home and I paid for NONE OF IT. It was........ a day. I sat on my bed later and thought to myself, “that was fucking weird.” But now, if I ever go to Melbourne, I will hit them up. 

It was Ali’s birthday and we went camping in Waiparous. We took mushrooms on Saturday and just as they were beginning to fully kick in, the RCMP rolled in and kicked us out of our campsite. What a wild time to be faced with an interaction with the cops. Also - no one could drive except for two people who had stayed sober and they had to shuttle us to a new campsite. Have you ever tried setting up a tent on mushrooms? Do you know how difficult and hilarious it is? 

And lastly at the end of July, I went to Folk Fest. I saw Alvvays again. Front row! Like, against the barrier front row. It was awesome. It was folk fest that inspired me to cut my hair and get bangs again. No regrets. I love my bangs. I also experienced a level of street harassment that I didn’t know was possible from some random, innocent-seeming guy. It was terrifying. I called the police. No bueno. 

August 

In August, I got promoted at my job and basically became a baby manager. It was better in theory than in practice because my shifts got longer, I made less in tips (but more hourly), and the cash out for a restaurant is a long and frustrating process that depends on a lot of small pieces working together correctly in a big ass spreadsheet and I suck at math.

In happier news – August was also the establishment of podcast club. Podcast club is one of the best and dorkiest things I have ever been involved with. We pick a podcast each week to listen to, and get together on Sunday mornings at 10:00am to discuss the contents of the podcast. It was initially open to whomever wanted to come but has since whittled down to a core group and at this point, we’re all so close that it would almost be weird to introduce a new person into the mix. There is Kendal, who I go to school with and who started the whole club. Her boyfriend, Mitch. Lachlan and Maddy who are siblings. Matt, a YouTuber who was kind of a wildcard. Chad, also kind of a wildcard but who works as a youth counsellor – and me! Podcast club has made my life infinitely better and is probably the best thing to come out of 2018, in all honesty.

I also got obsessed with Harry Potter and read like almost the whole series and my new at the time roommates thought I was such a loser because I would literally post up on the couch in the living room with a HP book and they would come back five hours later and I hadn’t moved and all I wanted to talk about was Harry Potter. 

September / October / November 

I am lumping these three months together in this review because truly, they are lumped together in my mind and heart. 

On September 11, I started my first practicum at CommunityWise. I really had no idea what to expect when I started there but looking back, I cannot believe how hard I lucked out. The U of C is VERY clinically-based when it comes to how it educates and describes the practice of social work. CW was the opposite of it all and day-to-day so much happens there that it is honestly impossible not to get dragged in at such a deep level that it literally forces you to care. When I was in practicum, I did a lot of reading and I came across this concept of a “disorienting dilemma” which is “an experience within which a current understanding is found to be insufficient or incorrect and the learner struggles with the resulting conflict of views. Such experiences often are those to which learners point as the beginning of the process of questioning their understanding and views and entering the transformative learning process” (Source). Truly, being in that space over the course of 300 hours created this for me. I was forced to confront a lot of racist and otherwise problematic shit that I have been brought up with and that comes up in small ways for me that I try and quash down for the sake of saving face. Poverty, addiction, mental health issues showed up LITERALLY on the doorstep and I was thrown into it all. The experience was a disorienting dilemma and it shook me out of my bubble and I have never fallen so deeply in love with social work. My supervisor and I formed a VERY close relationship that probably broke some ethical and professional boundaries and she was there for me to discuss social issues and experiences I was having in an honest way that really deconstructed things. I had my debit card stolen by a client on one occasion, had to call the DOAP team because I witnessed people in overdose more times than I can count, had to talk many a person down from suicide, befriended a very mentally ill person who suffers from delusions that they are an alien in a human body sent here to observe earth and report back to their master. We had to kick someone out of a workshop for being racist. It was a wild ride, honestly. There were many many positive things to come out of practicum. I built my professional network in ways I never would have been able to, I was able to move out of the “student” realm and step into the role of a social worker and advocate and professional. I did a lot of public speaking! I was out in the community talking to a million different people. I made videos and posters. And the best part of all is that even when my practicum ended, my connection to CW did not. They have hired me on as a digital storytelling intern (paid!) for the new year. Which is a major confidence boost and I just love CW and everyone there so much. I will literally be forever grateful to them for taking me under their collective wing and showing me I have the skills and abilities to be an effective social worker :) 

Ahem. Now on to some not-so-good things... 

The end of October was kind of difficult because I was attempting to manage practicum responsibilities, actual class projects and homework, second-round practicum interviews, and Famoso. I was very stressed out and it was not good, especially because I got a rejection from one interview and didn’t even get an interview at my top choice. I was feeling very sorry for myself and may or may not have cried at my desk at practicum. It all worked out in the end though, and actually I was offered a placement at the first place I interviewed – they just took a while to get back to me. She called me to let me know this while I was on a run and being idiot me, I picked up… panting and gasping for air in Nose Hill Park. She was like, “We’d like to offer you the place… wait, are you okay?”

I would also like to just slide it in here that I slept with my ex in October. Which wasn’t a particularly momentous occasion and was actually kind of funny because it felt so much like a one night stand. I am mostly putting this in here because I don’t think many people know that and I want to see who reads this far.

Along similarish lines – I PUT MYSELF OUT THERE AND ASKED SOMEONE ON A STRAIGHT UP DATE AND GOT REJECTED AND IT WAS HONESTLY SO EMBARASSING AND BRUTAL and it’s okay now but oh… my god. This also happened around the same time as the rejections from practicum placements and I had such a bad night where I got drunk on my couch alone and Cayley brought me burnt ends from her new job at a brewery because she was #concerned for me and I didn’t want to be alone. That’s a true friend right there.

December 

December is only halfway done - but I feel I can summarize it accurately. It has been a nice, tidy wrap up to the year. A month of podcasts, cleaning my house and my car and my life up, a mysterious knee injury that is really fucking me up, working a lot at Famoso, finishing my practicum and school semester. One thing I am dreading is that my brother’s girlfriend who our family is not particularly fond of will be joining us in Saskatoon this year. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. 

In General 

2018 has been very stressful for me. But despite the stress, and sometimes out of it, have come some very nice, beautiful things. I said last year in my post that I wanted to become more deeply involved in my community and in activism and social work and in that way I think I have excelled. I’m in it now, you guys. I feel capable. I feel motivated. I feel CONFIDENT. And I’m fucking excited to see what comes in the future. 

I nearly doubled the amount of people I’ve slept with so that’s... a notable thing that happened this year. 

It has been nice to feel a return to a sense of belonging with my old high school group of friends. In a way, I feel more united with them than ever. I guess not having a partner that they all hate helps. But also, I think I’ve just been feeling more and more like myself. But to Connor, Steven, Matt, Adam and the assortment of new(er) members that come and go - I am very grateful for you all. It has also been good for my heart and soul to become so close with people from podcast club. It’s actually like... really hard to make new friends. Podcast club made it easy. And I found myself on a Friday night in Maddy and Ben’s apartment, watching cooking shows and teaching them how to play card games, laughing until I cried and drinking wine. And it’s like... who else gets together on EVERY Sunday morning to discuss podcasts? For fun? I know relationships change and dissolve and grow from each year to the next but I just have a deep feeling that some of these friendships are the real deal. And I’m really lucky. It sounds so ~fake deep~ and lame but honestly podcast club is making me a better, happier, less anxious person. 

2019: 

I think 2019 is going to have to be the year that I really, truly grow the fuck up. I’m not mad about this. I look forward to crushing through 400 more hours of practicum, graduating and getting my degree. Hopefully entering the work force for real (this prospect is honestly so exciting to me... I creep the job boards every day daydreaming about what I might eventually do when I leave the world of waitressing) and making some adult money. 

I also like... totally got fat in 2018 so 2019 will involve some activities to counterbalance this. AND I have a ticket to Big Valley Jamboree. Which is hilarious because I think if you asked 2015 Megan what she’d never do, it would be “go to BVJ” but here I am, ticket in hand, excitement mounting by the day. Boots on, bitches. 

Some of my goals or things I’d like to work on in 2019 are to become less attached to social media and more invested in the actual moment/doing of things rather than recording them (ironic as I type this MASSIVE year in review post, yes), to get into a healthy and sustainable pattern of exercise where I don’t just like become obsessed with it for a little while and then slowly taper off and then do none of it for like six months... and honestly? I want to download a bunch of those dating apps again and just go for it. I think you can learn so much about yourself through dating and I’ve been such a recluse this year for the most part because I have been sort-of-but-not seeing someone since literally JULY but we’re not actually together and I don’t know what’s going on. I just need to get over my own insecurities and anxiety and just jump in with both feet. It’ll be fun. It’ll be crazy. I’m excited. 

The rest of it, as always, is an open book. Who knows where I will be, what I will be doing, or who I will be doing it with by this time next year? Not I. 

[nohhh]

Classified Mission: Eastern Europe Romanogers fanfic

GENRE: SMUT... NOT YET

WORD COUNT: 1722

AUTHOR’S NOTE: One scene in this is quite graphic so watch out for that.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3  CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5

*************************************************************

Steve covered himself and Natasha with his shield. Sam and Bucking were crouching under Sam’s wings. Which he had conjured out of nowhere, helpful. Bucky was shouting an impressive string of curses in Romanian. Natasha shouted some back at him. Bucky and Sam then stood up and Bucky ran to the ditch firing at the motorcycle retreating down the road. He got a steady hit on the wheel, sending the motorcycle to go over into the ditch. Steve and Natasha looked at the car which was a burning shell.

“Well, there goes our packing.” Steve observed.

In response Natasha help up a gear bag.

“Not yet.”

Steve smiled at Natasha. She returned the smile.

“You always think of everything.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

Sam and Bucky called back at them.

“Come on! I think they’re dead! Tasha can you check!”

The soldier and assassin made their way to the motorcycle where the pair had been. Momentum had caused them to end up in the ditch. Natasha went over and checked for pulses.

“Nothing, they’re dead as dead can be. Check the bike, there might be something.”

Steve started rooting through the bike, retrieving a thick wad of cash and a letter. Bucky jogged over to Steve and Sam helped Natasha get a phone and wallet out of the pockets.

“Get anything?” Bucky asked.

“Cash and a letter.”

“Keep the letter, we’ll check it out at the hotel. Leave the cash.”

“Good idea. How’s Sam and you been in Europe?”

“Scheming little bitch, that Sam. We have a flat rented out courtesy of SHIELD. I work as a gym instructor, which happened by accident and Sam has a female only hairdressers. I have to give him nightly Czech lessons. It’s good to gather Intel.”

“How does one become a gym instructor by accident?” Steve laughed

“Well, I went there every day and couldn’t get work anywhere else. Apparently metal arms are scary to kindergarten kids, so I couldn’t work in a shop or kindergarten. They are scared like hell, kids don’t find anything scary it’s the fucking parents. But anyway, I was at the gym one night and this lady instructor called Yale comes up to me and says in a freaking Israeli accent, ‘don’t you have a job anywhere? All you do is work out here.’ So I tell her my Tragic Story™ and she offers me a job, cause she owns the place. Sam and I had to wrangle with both our bosses for two weeks off, apparently our dear best friend since kidhood is terribly ill and may die soon. Yale told me to suck it up and keep working, people die all the time. The bird idiot hears marches in and shouts at her ‘HEY LADY OUR BFF IS DYING SOON GIVE HIM SOME FUCKING TIME OFF YOU BITCH’ The best part is that she doesn’t even flinch. She tells him if one of us can beat her in a spar she’ll give me the time off. Bighead over there goes first and she wipes the fucking floor with him. I go in next and I hate to admit I had to resort to using my left arm to beat the strong bitch.”

“Language, Bucky.” Steve said wiping away tears of laughter.

Sam, apparently, told Nat his side of this story and she was shaking with laughter when they went over to join Bucky and Steve.

“We found cash, passports and phones.”

Bucky stepped in.

“Leave the cash and passport, bring the phone.”

“Alright.”

“We better start walking, it’s a long way to the hotel.” Sam chimed in. The three other looked at him and nodded. Sam and Steve walked together talking, Bucky stayed back to talk to Natasha.

“How is it? Life there?” Natasha asked him.

“Peaceful, if you don’t count bird boy over there. If you do; fucking stressful.”

“The hotel is the reediest, cheapest, dirtiest shithole SHIELD could find, isn’t it.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Sam turned back and muttered something to Bucky, Steve and Natasha looked inquisitively at each other and at Sam and Bucky.

“What’s that about?” Steve asked Natasha

“Not a clue.”

“Where’s the hotel?”

“Up the seediest back alley SHIELD could find, probably.”

Steve nodded in agreement.

“Hey Sam, where’s this hotel?”

“Am, it should be up the alley that says, zadní ulička č. 3.”

“You’re Czech is coming on well.” Bucky observed.

The four had left the fields behind and were now walking on paved paths. Steve and Natasha were looking at every sign, checking for zadní ulička č. 3. Sam and Bucky started arguing about the name of the hotel.

“Found it!” The soldier was triumphant.

“Steve that says přední ulička č. 3. Go down it and to your left you should see a sign saying zadní ulička č. 3.” Bucky corrected.

The soldier’s cheek reddened slightly. The four were dressed incognito mode. Leather jackets and jeans. Natasha went down the alley first, where a dirty man tried to grab her.

Tried.

Natasha caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. He spat back in her face

“Ďábelská fena”

She broke his arm, the pain caused him to black out. Sam, Bucky and Steve stepped over the rumpled man. Sam inhaled sharply.

“What?” Steve asked.

“She’s strong. I’ve been trying to ignore him for nearly a month on my way to work. I wouldn’t get into a fight with him.” Sam responded.

“You should have seen what she did to the alien thing we had to fight the other day.” Steve stated

“SHIELD told us about that actually.”

“Fucking terrifying.” Bucky chimed in.

Natasha looked at them.

“I can hear you. Also we’re here.”

A neon sign saying hotel was blazing from the window.

Sam got a receipt out of his pocket, examining it he walked into the lobby.

Natasha was right; it was the seediest, dirtiest hotel SHIELD could find.

Bucky and Sam went up to the attendant and talked to her in Czech.

The woman asked

“Zbraně?”

Natasha addressed the woman directly in perfect Czech

“Ne, nepotřebujeme zbraně, Maria. Děláš.”

Maria went pale.

“I cannot call the police Ms. Romanova, you know that.” Perfect English.

“Clever Maria, hiding your bilingual manner. But I can assure you the gun under the counter will come in useful by this evening. Remember that.”

Maria nodded. Steve wanted to hit himself, he hadn’t even noticed the gun under the counter. She handed two room passes to Sam.

“V nejvyšším patře jsou pokoje 73 a 75. 75 je pohled na ulici.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Natalia Alianova Romanova, beware, there are people here that beat men like your friends to death. You’ll be safe, your friends not so much.” Natasha nodded and started up the stairs.

The three others were frightened by Maria’s statement and Natasha’s nod. They waited until they were at the floor outside their rooms.

“Nat, what the hell?” Bucky asked.

“Maria knew me from my assassin spy days. Good friend. She is right, the three of you are not safe. I am because of my notorious reputation.” “Natasha, I have a metal arm.”

“That would get a good bit in scrap metal sales.”

“Nat, I have super-soldier blood in my veins.”

“Steve, they would kill you with as many stab wounds as possible and pour your blood into jars to be sold as drugs.”

“Tasha, I have nothing.”

“Sam, your wings are worth their weight in gold.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Nat, what are these people like?”

“A mix of Rumlow and me.”

The three went pale.

Sam handed Steve a key for their room. He opened it and Bucky did the same across the hall. Natasha looked at them.

“You have one hour.”

They went into their respective rooms. A double shout was heard across the room.

“FUCK!”

Natasha and Steve smiled, even in dire moments Sam and Bucky lightened the mood. They turned into their own room, where there was a distinct lack of furniture; a very small double bed and bathroom with a rail for hanging clothes.

Steve looked at Natasha.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, you won’t, there is no heating. It’s cold enough in the bed, you will actually die if you sleep on the floor.” “Wouldn’t you feel uncomfortable-“

“No, would you?”

“No.” Steve had to admire her audacity and boldness. She didn’t care that they had to share the same bed for three days. Natasha opened the gear bag getting out toiletries and one spare change of clothes.

There was other stuff in the bag but it was unnecessary.

“Do you want to freshen up or anything? We have incognito work to do. Sam and Bucky have to do some ‘neighbourhood scouting’”

“Yeah I will, do we need to change our clothes?”

The pair were currently wearing ‘semi’ uniform. Tight clothes. No denim and boots.

Steve and Natasha went into the bathroom. They had forgotten toothbrushes so the just used their fingers.

“We probably shouldn’t, this is fairly incognito.”

Steve nodded. They both knew where they were going. Straight to the seedy computer café on the corner.

Steve turned to face Natasha

“Should we have a cover? If anyone asks us anything?”

Natasha thought for a minute.

“What did we do in DC?”

“Well, am, you told me to kiss you and that was a distraction.” Steve’s cheeks went pink. He was obviously thinking about the kiss. Natasha grinned.

“Come on soldier, I think Bucky and Steve are after murdering one another.”

They went across the hall and knocked on the door.

Sam opened the door.

“THERE IS ONE BED AND THE FLOOR IS COLDER THAN THE FUCKING ARTIC!” Sam shook his head.

“Welcome to a freezing version of hell. Bucky is reaching peak volume levels, is there a volume button on him?”

Natasha and Steve laughed.

“Are you ready for neighbourhood scouting?”

“Yes.”

“Be careful boys. Steve is safe with me.”

“I bet he is.”

Bucky and Sam locked the door after him and Steve checked the lock of his and Nat’s door. They began the steep descent down the stairs.

Natasha turned rigid once they reached the lobby.

Steve, Sam and Bucky saw her face.

Hell would be a sauna compared to the red hot fury on her face.

“Steve, we’ve got some work to do.”

[amieyhko]

The Last (for now) Days of Being a Student

29 Oct 2018

Honestly though, my last semester in uni wasn't very studious. I had one course called Sixteenth Century English Literature in which the professor basically mocked all forms of religion and pointed out all the sexy details in Shakespeare's sonnets. For the final exam, which was three essays long, I wrote one very indignant essay about why I needed more women in literature and how all of the supposedly feminist writers in the sixteenth century were full of *$#% (but in a literary chic way). I got an A.

To top off the not-student like behavior, I TA-ed for my advisor's Freshmen English class. I survived a semester before and couldn't be prouder of myself for the job I was doing. It was mostly writing emails to students, making photocopies now and then, and sending reminders to the professor. The most excruciating part probably was correcting their essays' grammar and spelling. My friend said "Why bother? They probably won't read them," to which I retorted "CUZ I LIKE BEING RIGHT!"  On the anonymous end-of-the-term survey, I've received many confessions of love to which I awww-ed and laughed. But most of them genuinely thanked me for the effort I put into emailing them, asking them questions, and drumroll correcting their grammar.

But why bother reading about my boring school life when you can read about what I have been doing not in school! Here is what went down in my life from April - June 2018.

The Diary of Anne Frank

The best way to cure jet lag is to go straight into tech week the following week. I have experienced many ailments from traveling and found jet lag from Europe to Asia is quite the worst. Fortunately, I signed myself up to run the lights for the Butterfly Effect Theatre's production of The Diary of Anne Frank. This was our second run but this play just doesn't get old. Fun fact about this play: this show's original Broadway cast had young Natalie Portman playing Anne. The Diary has been adapted into many plays but this version doesn't deify Anne into a hero figure but truthfully illustrates the inner drama of a teenage girl and the struggles of seven people living in a cramped up space. Honest to God, I cry almost every curtain call.

During the production, I read many young people don't believe that the Holocaust happened—this information killed me a little. It's absurd that someone wouldn't believe in a historical event with monuments and memorial sites all over the world with many primary sources and survivors who are still alive to tell their stories. Don't even get me started on how good some great works of fiction are based on WWII, like The Reader, Everything is Illuminated, and The Fiddler on the Roof… Also, there was a group of high school students in Taiwan that dressed up as Nazi soldiers and marched around the school for an event. Ignorance is not bliss, naïve is not cute—history is there for us to reflect and learn. I somehow took these news very personally, maybe because I grew up listening to the same Bible stories as the Jews, maybe because I cannot stand uneducated people, probably a combination of both.

A representative from Israeli cultural office was invited to open the show (we had free falafels, hummus, and pita during the last run of the show but not this time, insert whimpering). The weekend swooshed by. I was just thankful I could be a part of a show that spoke a story that some started to neglect.

That was the last time I worked with this theatre company because 1. they did have one last show August but I was helping another show the exact same time 2. rent issues with the theatre space 3. the artistic director got a new job in Vienna. He moved early September and he basically sold everything from costumes to lighting equipments. It was a hectic process to watch a theatre company that I truly felt at home turn into a goodbye yard sale. I learned a lot about running low budget shows, programming with too-old consoles, but most of all I made connections with people I know I will meet again in this tiny theatre world.

Fashion Revolution Taipei

April was a month where I went crazy juggling all about. I collaborated with Totes & Tees, a small social enterprise that focuses on ethical and zero-waste fashion. I have been following this small company for a while through a mutual friend and was really interested in what they did. The owner was also going to be one of the hosts for Fashion Revolution 2018 in Taipei. The idea was to have a runway showcasing up-cycled items handmade by many different designers. I was to crochet a beanie from a no-longer-used piece of fabric. Sadly, I couldn't participate on the actual day because I went on a family trip to…

Rome & Paris

To say this was a family trip would be a misleading statement. My parents were there to lead the seminars they have been running for 10+ years. As I mentioned in Update 3.0, their heart is for the Chinese speaking people all over the world. The Asians basically took over a whole hotel on the outskirts of Rome to host Fathers' School and Mothers' School simultaneously. This meant, there needed to be a baby sitting club. Slowly raise your hands if you're a pastor kid you basically did everything that was assumed of you! (Did I volunteer? Did I chose to be their child? We'll never know) No, I'm not being bitter, I just simply love poking fun at my stereotype. Besides, I was asked nicely to participate in taking care of the children—a member from the Taiwan side of the team had activities prepared for them, I just had to support. I said "WHY NOT? I JUST DID THIS A MONTH AGO!"

But, this crowd was tough. It wasn't like calming down super rowdy Hungarian-Romani children nor was it like being dragged around by crazy bubbly Filipino kids. These were well-educated, cellphone-hogging Chinese-looking kids who preferred classily sitting on chairs, not the floor, chattering away in Italian. Of course, they were all embedded in their Chinese-ness from their parents, so they still understood most of what we were trying to do. However, whenever the head teacher asked them to do something extremely "Asian", my TCK heart ached, feeling all the "well, they are NOT going to relate to that at all…."

Because the seminar lasted three out of the five days we were at Rome, we only had enough time to look around the Vatican and trot around to sneak peek here and there. One of the free days was taken over by a tour set up by the local church. They took us around historical sites that were related to the early underground churches and Apostle Paul. We visited way too many cathedrals that all of them started to look the same. The most memorable place was the underground tunnels where the early Christians escaped to and hid from the Romans. Going to a Christian school, we would always play Underground Church when we had class sleepovers—even though it was just a game, the danger felt extremely real. But as I stood in the tunnel, I could actually really imagine how real their fear must have been. I was in awe of the way these early Christians kept their faith even in the dark, cold underground.

After eating one too many cones of gelato and faking one too many Italian conversations in Spanish, we arrived in Paris. They were only going to host Fathers' School so umma and I had plenty of free time. However, being the only linguistically competent person in the group (but honestly, my French is basically nonexistent), I had to take everyone around the city. I was annoyed at having no time to myself and just my parents but thankfully, appa had three days free and the crowd let us be for two of those days.

Paris' reputation really proceeds itself, it's a bit dirty, there are more rude strangers than nice people, and they really hate you if you ask "parlez-vous anglais?". Despite all the negative stereotypes, I took my little tour group all around the places I've researched in advance. I was also allowed to go off on my own when I wore them all out by 5 p.m. I'm proud to say I've actually hit all the touristy places I wanted to visit with and without the group. We even visited Versailles kudos to the fact umma is so internet-savvy that she actually researched. She was very intent on visiting a few places like Château de Versailles, the top of the Eiffel, and the Louvre—her excuse always being "I'm never coming here ever again!"

After two-ish weeks of venturing around Western Europe, we emptied out the 99 cents cheese blocks at the local Carrefour market, squished it into our luggage, and sat on a long plane ride. Umma commented that I seem to be the "vacation type", she couldn't understand how I could still be so chipper being gone from home so long. Although her observations were accurate, I wouldn't have wanted to stay longer unless I started taking French classes or something—the language barrier was devastating.

Sharon McGill Memorial Service

My dorm mother passed away from cancer last fall. Her favorite drink at Starbucks, toffee nut latte, just came round again. I received the news via McGill dormie Facebook group while I scrolled through my phone during class, bad idea. My commute back home that day seemed five times longer than usual. Halfway through my walk home from the bus stop, I ran into umma. She asked if I wanted to go to Costco with them, then asked why I don't look so well. I honestly had no clue how to break the news. Appa's car rolled around to pick us up for Costco, I said Sharon died, we cried a little and had a moment of silence. I always thought about how umma and Sharon, appa and Terry are the same age. My mums and dads. They are some of the most important people of my life and one of them was gone.

I'd like to think I had enough time to process through this situation. Then I'd realize that not all valleys in life are empty holes. You don't just get over it. You live with their memories. Some days will pain you more than others but they're there to remind you that you are that much alive. You can still feel. As cheesy as I'm starting to sound, this is something I have been needing to remind myself lately.

After what seemed like too long, the day of Sharon's memorial service came. I hopped on the familiar bus from Taipei to Taichung. Visiting high school wasn't a big deal but I've never thought I'd visit because my dorm mum passed away. The auditorium was filled. Dorm kids had priority seats. Terry gave a bear hug to everyone who made it. The whole thing began with Terry mumbling to the mic "Alright, let's get this over with," to which I definitely chuckled. I didn't even bother holding back my laughter or tears or both as they came and went throughout the service. At the end, I could just feel this was a closure that everyone who knew Sharon deserved. I cannot describe what kid of feeling that was. The feeling of home? Feeling of clear certainty. Maybe everyone's love for Sharon somehow became a tangible atmosphere. I must say it almost felt like a wedding.

During the reception, there was a photo time where Terry was huddled around 30-something out of 120-something of his dorm children. Later on he said that was the highlight of his day. He also said no one was allowed to leave the dorms before midnight, to which most of us complied to. Most of the dorm kids that showed up all graduated around '02 or '03 so I was just a little bit very intimidated, mostly because I forgot the fact that we were all bound by the similar experiences of studying in Morrison while living in a dorm with the same dorm parents. It was a good evening to be a McGill Dormie.

Bye Hair Day

I have been notorious for the way I treat my hair. If you know the song "Grace Kelly" by Mika, well, in the chorus, he is singing about my hair circa 2013-2015. Then I stopped. I hated the way my hair felt dry and crinkly, I wanted my normal long hair back. I also remembered I've always wanted to donate my hair to a cancer foundation. It was just something I wanted to cross off my bucket list. So I've been growing my hair out ever since—it took way longer than I thought. Throughout my hair growth, two significant people in my life died from cancer. It felt like I had way more reason to donate now.

June 16th was the date. My friend also wanted to join in. We found Little Princess Trust, an organization that gives out free wigs to young girls who have lost their hair due to illnesses. Their guidelines said they love receiving longer hair because they're more popular. After some measuring I decided to get a buzz cut so that I could maximize the length of hair I could donate. Besides, I've been wanting to have crazy buzzed hair after a couple of years of freakishly long hair. Fickle me, I know.

My hair stylist washed my hair way thoroughly, dried it for what seemed like an hour, tied it up into sections, and snip, it was in a plastic bag. My buzz cut buddy and I couldn't stop rubbing our heads the following few days.

But my oh my, I did not know that a head of hair was keeping me warm all this time. I was constantly dealing with extremely cold overhead AC on buses and I eventually caught a really bad cough for three plus weeks. I now never leave my house without a hat of some sort.

My hair has become so short that I have been tracking my days with hair length. My best friend, Fanny keeps saying it's like watching a little infant grow every week. I told her to stop being so overly dramatic.

oh dear, this is getting real long

Instead of asking how someone's day was, Sharon would ask us three things: 1. what was the low point of your day? 2. high point? 3. what have you learned today? or what do you think Jesus is teaching you today?

So to boil down my April to June into a few pointers, it sucked that I got really sick for almost a month, but I loved getting to travel and do a lot lot lot of things. I'm learning that well-done goodbyes are possible. Currently, I'm learning to do just that—slowly closing up gaps responsibly, honestly, and kindly. God is also teaching me that I'm allowed to chose and do what I love (but more on that next update).

Thank you for catching up on my life, I promise the next post will be just as long.

[nataliesnews]

Remember how shocked you were when you read that terrorists were planting traps for childen in parks? Evidently the Israel army learned something from them…..but who care     This Is How the Israeli Army 'Deters' Palestinian Activists

It started out like a regular story: A family, a concerned mother and a curious little boy checking out his surroundings. But there’s nothing regular about the life of Palestinians in the occupied territories, and this story gradually turned into a nightmare. Last Thursday afternoon, in the West Bank village of Qaddum, a 7-year-old boy noticed an orange box covered in string and fabric, and ran to pick it up. His mother, who was with him, called to other family members to examine it first.

Two of them picked up the box, shook it, and heard noise. After another shake there was an explosion, and one of the relatives was lightly wounded in his hand and face. It turned out the box was an improvised explosive made by the Israel Defense Forces, and that there were at least three such devices planted by the army “to serve as a deterrent.” Why? Because Qaddum is the only village in the territories that still demonstrates against the occupation every week, which the army regards as “regular, violent disturbances over a number of years.” The IDF spokesman’s response breaks records for dissembling. “After it was discovered that this could cause injury, the forces removed them from the area

15דלגו 15 שניות קדימה

לחצו כדי לנגן

15דלגו 15 שניות אחורה

1xלחצו כדי לשנות את מהירות הניגון מ-1 ל-1.25 revealed Wednesday by Haaretz reporters Hagar Shezaf and Yaniv Kubovich. Last Wednesday night soldiers from the Nahal Brigade’s reconnaissance battalion planted at least three such improvised explosives along the side of a road that is used by residents and is very close to homes. The soldiers camouflaged the devices with stones, fabric and ammunition boxes and left them in the village primed to explode if anyone touched them.

The IDF spokesman’s response breaks records for dissembling. “After it was discovered that this could cause injury, the forces removed them from the area.”

   25.8.2020   I have had a very bad few days after a tooth extraction. My dentist said that I had to bring a friend with me and I said what nonsense as I could just as easily take a taxi home. I am glad that she insisted. Said that without someone with me they would not do the operation. I have had extractions before but I do not remember one as bad as this. It seemed to go on and on and I heard the dentist who had been called in and whom I have had before saying that it was taking much longer than they had thought. By the time it was over I was limp with pain and exhaustion in spite of about four different injections. I was so relieved when I came out to find Dalia there. I will  also have to an installation or whatever it is called. I did not move out of the house yesterday and will not do so today either. I hope though that by tonight I will feel able to go to the wedding of the son of Irit and Yaakov. They have always helped me so.  Anyhow now that I have seen how much this whole performance is going to cost me I am thinking of giving them the tooth back.

 Irit and Yaakov had invited me to the wedding of their son. The venue is far out of town. Had it been in town no problem. I am getting a lift there but the problem would be how to get back if I started having too much pain. About an hour before I was due to be picked up or rather to just give someone a present to take along I took another antibiotic and two strong pills and it seemed to kick in. I found the phone number of a company in Beit Shemesh but evidently they do not work that late. Than suddenly I thought of Jowad from Qalandiya days and he said if I gave him twenty forty minutes advance he knew there the restaurant was and would pick me up. So I went and came back straight after the chuppah. They were limited to inviting 40 people so it was a great compliment to me that I was invited. I don’t understand how come they are so good to me and I mean it. I am very lucky to have met such people.

 27 8.2020

This evening I was a nervous wreck . I had a terrible night last night and had invited people for supper this evening. Not my usual crowd whom I call the felachiem…..peasants….but people to whose house I have been invited a few times and really wanted to reciprocate. In fact my one friend said to me what I have long felt……that there are people whom I invite because I like them but never invite back not even for a cup of coffee. So normally I would go down to the little garden but this evening when I went down I really felt in  a panic. The people I invited are wonderful cooks. I am not.  First of all the area had been watered and even under normal circumstances there are always mosquitoes there. But what really made it problematic is that it is just below the entrance and dafke they were having a concert there this evening. Because people are not allowed in the building and also because if, in the building, it is limited to 20 people the lectures are outside. I kept trying to find another place but I ran up and down and was sweating like you can’t believe. On top of that the one lady is a vegetarian and the other couple eat kosher…..and without thinking I had bought a cheese casserole and cheese bureikas…..and you know what even though all we had on the table besides that was cottage pie , and salad and wine it was a most successful evening. But what will we do when the winter comes?

  Remember how shocked you were when you read that terrorists were planting traps for childen in parks? Evidently the Israel army learned something from them…..but who care     This Is How the Israeli Army 'Deters' Palestinian Activists

It started out like a regular story: A family, a concerned mother and a curious little boy checking out his surroundings. But there’s nothing regular about the life of Palestinians in the occupied territories, and this story gradually turned into a nightmare. Last Thursday afternoon, in the West Bank village of Qaddum, a 7-year-old boy noticed an orange box covered in string and fabric, and ran to pick it up. His mother, who was with him, called to other family members to examine it first.

Two of them picked up the box, shook it, and heard noise. After another shake there was an explosion, and one of the relatives was lightly wounded in his hand and face. It turned out the box was an improvised explosive made by the Israel Defense Forces, and that there were at least three such devices planted by the army “to serve as a deterrent.” Why? Because Qaddum is the only village in the territories that still demonstrates against the occupation every week, which the army regards as “regular, violent disturbances over a number of years.” The IDF spokesman’s response breaks records for dissembling. “After it was discovered that this could cause injury, the forces removed them from the area

  And now some examples of how Netanyahu is closing the mouth of the press. The

 https://theworldnews.net/il-news/no-more-satire-this-channel-is-the-latest-victim-of-netanyahu-s-war-on-media

  and this

Protester summoned by police after giving TV interview on assault by senior cop

Lawyers lambaste 'unbelievable attempt at intimidating' Avichai Green, who was beaten by Niso Guetta, then accused by Guetta's colleagues of assault

https://www.timesofisrael.com/protester-summoned-by-police-after-giving-tv-interview-on-assault-by-senior-cop/

And the policeman who attacked him will be back on the job tonight!

And pain or not pain I will be there

Natalie

[kacydeneen]

'I Don't Feel Safe': Synagogue Shooting Victims Include 8-Year-Old Survivor

A long-time member of the Chabad of Poway synagogue, Lori Gilbert-Kaye, 60, died from her injuries after a gunman opened fire during services to celebrate the end of Passover.

Her rabbi, 57-year-old Yisroel Goldstein lost his index finger when he put his hand up as the gunman approached him. He later wrapped his wounds in a prayer shawl and told his congregants, "we are a Jewish nation that will stand tall." 

Almog Peretz, 34, was declared a hero after he was shot in the leg while shuffling out a group of school-aged children, a group that included one of his nieces, 8-year-old Noya Dahan, who was hit by shrapnel and who described the shooting in an interview with NBC News.  

Here are their stories: 

Lori Gilbert-Kaye: "Jewel of Our Community" As a gunman unloaded bullets inside the synagogue filled with about 100 worshipers, Kaye performed what her friends and Rabbi Goldstein called a last act of heroism when she protected the rabbi from gunfire.

"In my own interpretation, Lori took the bullet for all of us," Goldstein said outside the synagogue a day after the deadly shooting. "She didn’t deserve to die right in front of my eyes." 

The word "giving" was used repeatedly by friends to describe the 60-year-old woman, who has lived her entire life in San Diego. She leaves behind a husband and a 22-year-old daughter. 

"When you ask me, 'Why’d she put herself in front of the rabbi,' it’s like, anyone who knows her, that’s what she would do," her friend Roneet Lev said.

Both Lev and another friend of Kaye's, Audrey Jacobs, said that as the rabbi was being wheeled into surgery, he said, "Let everyone know Lori Kaye saved me."

Lev said Kaye was a pillar of San Diego's Jewish community and was known by people across the globe for her acts of kindness. Jacobs described Kaye as a "jewel of our community." 

Kaye was attending Saturday's service to pay tribute to her late mother with a traditional prayer for the dead. She was a member of the synagogue since its founding. According to the rabbi, Kaye helped secure funding that helped open the Chabad of Poway in 1986. 

Kaye's husband, a doctor, rushed to the shooting scene to help and while performing CPR on a victim fainted when he realized it was his wife, Lev told The Los Angeles Times. 

Lev said that despite the tragedy, the Jewish community will continue to "make this world a better place." 

"She did not die in vain, Lev said. "Her death must bring goodness to the world. If anybody does some good act, whatever it is – calling a friend, saying hello, anything kind – would bring a blessing to Lori’s memory and keep her memory alive."

Noya Dahan: "Too Scary to Not Cry" Eight-year-old Noya Dahan remembers she was playing with the other children her age before the service started on Saturday when she heard loud noises as she entered the doorway to the synagogue. 

Dahan described the chaos to NBC News, detailing the moment her uncle, Peretz, scooped up more than a half-dozen kids and rushed them away from the shooter.

"I was one of them and the person was aiming right at [Peretz] and he was holding me so it hit him and the second one hit me," she said. 

Meanwhile, her dad was screaming, "Everyone run! Run! Run! Someone's shooting," she recalled. 

The 8-year-old said the whole incident happened so quickly it seemed like movie. "It was like too scary to not cry," she said. 

What she does remember, though, was the feeling of getting hit.

"Yes, I definitely remember when it was coming straight at my head like, I'm like 'what's happening"' and then I realized that something hit me and didn't go out so I was really afraid," Dahan said.

Dahan said her family has been the target of anti-Semitism in the past. Five years ago, swastikas were etched into their home and someone tried to light it on fire, she said. 

"I'm still worried, like I still picture things in my head and I still picture the sounds and noise stuff and it's just scary," Dahan said. "But, um I don't really feel safe here. This is not the first and definitely not the last time this happened."

Dahan's family moved to the U.S. a few years ago from Sderot, Israel, which has been the target of rocket attacks from the nearby Gaza Strip, the Israeli newspaper Haaretz reported. 

"We came from fire to fire," Noya's father, Israel Dahan, was quoted as having told Israeli radio. "We left Sderot after our house was hit a few times. My mother's house was hit. I was wounded."

Noya Dahan was released from the hospital Saturday night.

Almog Peretz Peretz is also from Sderot, Israel, and came to visit his family for Passover, according to Jacobs.

When he first heard the gunshots, he immediately gathered the children and lead them to safety, Jacobs said.

He scooped up Noya, his niece, and rushed the rest toward the exit, attempting to dodge bullets along the way. He was hit in the leg, but did not feel it.

He continued his mission to shield and protect the children of the synagogue. He said he couldn't think about his bullet wound because he was nervous.

After leading a large group of kids to a safe place, he paused and noticed that he was missing one, his other niece, so he ran back in.

Terrified, but not immobilized by her fear, she locked herself in the bathroom and sheltered. The shooter was gone by the time Peretz got to her, and that's when congregants pointed out that he was bleeding.

When asked what led him to run back inside, Peretz said simply, "My niece."

"I don't care," he said, responding to a question about whether or not he was scared. "She was alone."

"Because the kids, they stand in shock," he continued. "They're like frozen, they stand. I'm scared they'll run the wrong way. I tell them, 'No, this way, this way!' And I scream."

In the moments that followed, the congregation was beginning to realize what had just happened. Peretz said there was a sense of disbelief that they all shared.

Peretz saw medics trying to resuscitate Kaye. He also passed by the rabbi and saw he was missing his finger.

"You know, I want to forget," Peretz said. "I want to forget. I hope I forget that, but it's coming all the time."

Peretz said he hasn't been able to get the terrifying image -- the shooter standing there with his weapon raised, sight at his eye, firing rounds -- out of his mind.

He didn't eat or sleep that night.

"This is sad, but I am originally from Sderot so we know a bit about running from the Qassam rockets," Peretz told Israel’s Channel 12 from his hospital bed, according to The Times of Israel.

Peretz is recovering from shrapnel wounds and a gunshot to the leg. He has since been released from the hospital.

Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein said he heard a “large bang” as he walked into the banquet hall before services at the synagogue, then immediately found himself in the line of fire.

"A young man standing with a rifle, staring right at me, he had sunglasses on," Goldstein said. "I couldn’t see his eyes, I couldn’t see his soul."

Within seconds, bullets were fired in his direction. All he could do was put his hands up to protect himself, he said. 

"I turned around and I’m face to face with this murderer -- terrorist -- who was holding a rifle and looking straight at me, and then as soon as he saw me, he started to shoot toward me, and that’s when I put my hands up and then my fingers got blown away," Goldstein told NBC's TODAY show in an exclusive interview Sunday morning.

He was struck in both of his index fingers. As he fled from the shooter he spotted a group of children, his grandchild among them, and he gathered them together and rushed them outside all the while not knowing his right index finger had been severed from his hand.

"My granddaughter -- four-and-a-half years old -- sees her grandpa with a bleeding hand and she sees me screaming and shouting, ‘Get out! Get out!’ She didn’t deserve to see her grandfather like this,” Goldstein said.

In the midst of his life-saving dash, he wrapped his hand in a prayer shawl.

After the shooter fled the property, synagogue congregants sheltered in an outdoor area waiting for authorities to arrive. Goldstein saw an opportunity to speak from his heart and remind his people of their resiliency.

“I got up there, and I just spoke from my heart and giving everyone the courage to know -- you know, it was just 70 years ago during the Holocaust, we were gunned down like this. And I just want to let our fellow Americans know, we’re not going to let this happen here -- not here in San Diego, not here in Poway, not here in the United States of America,” Goldstein said.

At a Sunday press conference, the rabbi said that President Donald Trump called him and spoke with him for about 15 minutes. He said President Trump offered his condolences on behalf of the U.S. and was very comforting.

"I’m really grateful for our president for really taking the time," Goldstein said.

Goldstein, a rabbi at Chabad of Poway since he co-founded it in 1986, wondered how the suspected shooter could arrive at a point where he would want to inflict this kind of pain.

"How does a 19-year-old, a teenager, have the audacity, the sickness, the hatred?” he said. "How does he come to our house of worship and do what he did?"

Goldstein called Kaye a dear friend that he's known for 33 years. He said she died to protect everyone in the synagogue, and said her legacy will continue.

Photo Credit: NBC News/Roneet Lev This story uses functionality that may not work in our app. Click here to open the story in your web browser. 'I Don't Feel Safe': Synagogue Shooting Victims Include 8-Year-Old Survivor published first on Miami News

[talldarknsexy]

Escapades in Egypt

After a night on the ferry we docked at the port in Aswan. We were just adjacent of the famous high dam that holds back lake Aswan from the Lower Nile and prevents seasonal flooding. A ferrymen agreed that I should stage my bike with the rest of the cargo. It was on the top deck anyways and I didn't want to have to follow after the 200 other people. So, I placed my bike next to some stuff, but this upset some of the otherwise friendly Sudanese mamas who then started yelling at me. The ferryman and a few others came to my defense which just aggravated them even more. The ferryman offered to move my bike and in the confusion knocked over their coffee pot straight onto their sleeping mat without noticing. Upon seeing this, they started screaming at me as I was now wheeling my bike away from the scene. Anyways, I shimmied my bike back to the top deck, said goodbyes to my Sudanese ferry buddies, and headed through customs where an Egyptian official would get frustrated with my broken zippers and literally rip apart my tool bag. "What this???" He questioned about my patch kit. "Clearly, you're not a golfer... It's a patch kit." From the dock, I rode just 15km to the city of Aswan and was greeted by many a "Welcome to Egypt!" The last 2km however, I took a shortcut that went through the town's dumping grounds. A dystopian scene with piles of garbage still burning, hazy with smoke, and growling with packs of wild dogs lurking around. Just a few blocks away, emerged David's hostel. He opened it up 3 years ago and runs little profit but his incentive was to perfect his English. He had done this already, as it was expert level, but still failed to pass Australia's English entrance visa exam. I started to wonder if I would be able to, personally. This is an extra requirement for Arabic countries and even though David is of the 10% Christian Coptic minority, the same bias applies. Anyways, he's since given up on Australia and runs the hostel (out of his basement) with a true passion I've seldom seen. It was a nice place and had wifi and clean tap water, both of which I hadn't experienced from a hostel in many months. That and, not to mention, I had access to supermarkets and ATMs again after Sudan. I met an Israeli guy there, Amir. This was unusual, because outside of the Sinai, Israeli backpackers are almost unheard of in Egypt. I went out that night with him and another Dutch fella. David dropped us off in town and we went to an amazing museum- history, artifacts, artwork, mummies, the works... Then grabbed some food and scoured the riverfront for a place that served alcohol. And after over a month, I finally had a beer. Amir had expressed some interest in the biking, and as always, I'd told him anyone is welcome to join. Except unlike all the others... Amir actually did. We went to the market with David the next day and picked one out from the China bike shop in town for $70. We scrounged some China parts from the market: mirror, tube, racks, bell, and a red $4 child's helmet. We grabbed some empty food bins and zip ties and rigged him some hobolo panniers. He'd already been carrying camping and cooking gear, so we slapped everything together quickly. There was no need to come up with a cheesy nickname for the bike as it was already labeled the "Flying Pigeon." The Flying Pigeon was washed in neon green and fake chrome- she was glorious... Amir had gone from backpacker to cycle tourist for less than $100 and under 24hrs. We set off the next day for the Flying Pigeon's native voyage. She and Amir did well. And I had not only riding company, but an Arabic translator, as Amir spoke some. That day we visited an enormous temple which we had almost entirely to ourselves. Back on the road, some kids had hurled rocks at us. Amir had surely had similar experiences in Israel as he wasn't phased in the slightest and didn't even so much as turn his head. We ate liver sandwiches for lunch, got invited for tea with some elders, and then camped by the Nile and took a dip at sunset. The next day, we rode off and stopped again midday for lunch and another temple visit, this one was in impeccable condition, but had much more visitors as the Nile cruise boats stopped here. Here, the fat waddling tourists de-board the luxury Nile ferries only to be taken to the temples in horse drawn chariots. Amir and I watched one throw an egyptian note down from a chariot down to a "begging" child. "Becom?" I asked, and the kid flashed me a $20egp note. "Sweets?" I asked. To which he smiled and nodded. But, the temples themselves were amazing. Amir was fairly versed in Egyptian mythology and was able to point out the various gods and some of the stories. We marveled around and contemplated the feasibility of construction and the complexity of their religious beliefs, both dating back almost four thousand years. Before leaving town, we stopped at a China bike shop to get Amir a new rear tire which had almost quit in only about 100km. The shopkeeper insisted we invest an extra dollar in a different looking tire. "Hatha afdal?" I asked. "Yees! Made in Indeea!" He happily exclaimed. Now, with Amir's Arabic, police checkpoints had been a breeze, but I'd warned him that there might come a time when that would change. And rightfully so, as it soon did. We got held up at one and Amir insisted with them that we did not need an escort. The captain would just reply that he's Egyptian and it is his duty to protect us. So, off we rode with a police truck behind us and 5 armed men. They chugged behind us that afternoon and wouldn't allow us to stop and honked at any kids that tried to high five us. And after a lot of argument on where we could stay that night, we ended camped out back a police station. The next day we reached Luxor. We, being us two cyclists and the different crew of 6 police behind. We rolled up and checked into the wrong hostel, but with the same name. Something we didn't realize until a few days later. Anyways, we spent the 2-3 days exploring temples, eating ridiculously good and inexpensive food (sometimes possibly pigeon,) and did a Nile cruise with some friends. In the end, Amir decided to ditch the bike before leaving Luxor. He was a little fed up with police and with how it would soon unfold, I certainly can't blame him. He got lucky though and sold the Flying Pidgeon to "Bob the Balloon Man" who ran a hot air balloon business and lived next door to the hostel. So, most cyclists have police escort for maybe half of Egypt. Mine was a little excessive. But, a combination of my poor Arabic, my American passport, and me traveling solo may have exasperated things. About 50km outside of Luxor, after waiting another half hour at yet another police checkpoint, they had me take an unexpected turn. Soon, I found myself on the remote desert highway, but with the police still chugging behind me. This road would be great for cycling except for the fact that I had zero food and had no idea were I was staying. Truthfully, the police probably had no idea either, they just want to drive you to the next checkpoint so they can finish their shift. It was a long, 160km day that ended with a hard climb that came out of nowhere. This I didn't finish until well into the dark and cold. But, luckily the fellas at the ambulance post I stayed at were pretty hilarious and helped to cheer me back up. The following day was even worse, however, it was actually quite cold and the police had me do ~120km. By the end of it I was experiencing some pretty bad knee pain and was pedaling with only one foot. It was another night staying with an ambulance crew and we shared some food together. I was pretty defeated, however and worried about my knee. I was woken up around midnight by a police officer who came in to verify I was there. I woke up around 3:30am and at the upon agreed upon time of 5am, was told to wait another hour until 6am so the officer could go back to sleep. After 30km of pedaling with one leg, I reached another checkpoint. Here, I'd been told I wouldn't need escorts... At least for a while until outside of Cairo. This clearly wasn't the case for me though. I'd explained it many times in broken Arabic and English. It was a desert with nothing... Not even a blade of grass lives out here. And I was getting sick and injured trying to follow their checkpoint regiment. I had one of my ambulance buddies who showed up there help explain the lack of need. He did a great job, but they just insisted on saying it was for my safety. It almost worked, but they just tailed behind me a half kilometer, pretending not to be there. Once, a young couple in a sedan with a bike rack pulled over to I believe offer me a bottle of water. The police truck sped up, pulled over in front of me, and ushered them away. Mid afternoon I was pretty broken. Struggling to pedal with one, now very fatigued leg. The wind picked up and I must have been doing about 5km/h because a policeman got out to jog past me. I pulled into a rest stop and laid down just praying that when I opened my eyes, the police would be gone. Instead, another police car showed up and there must have been about 8 or so policemen altogether. I'd had enough, and for the 100th time, loudly voiced my opinion that they were wasting there time. At one point, the officer called his cousin to help translate. He finally got the message and told me "Okay, continue as you like." I was incredulous, but he insisted and I thanked him, apologized, and gave him a hug. They sped off, but sure enough, I spotted them parked up the road about a kilometer. I said fuck it. Pulled off the road and camped behind a dune, just 500m from where they left me. It was a splendid night camped alone, resting my knee. But unfortunately, it was still painful in the morning. I rode about 20km to a petrol station and filled up on snacks. The guys there were super helpful, but I saw one suspiciously ran off to an ambulance post nearby, so I took off. Sure enough, about 30 mins later, I was surrounded by police. They either arrested me or "saved me" depending on who you ask. Apparently they had the entire region's police force looking for me. I was approached first by a 3 star officer so fat he was out of breath stepping out of his truck. He took my passport and made some frantic calls. The two petty officers with him wanted to know how I was able to survive a night in the cold. They then loaded my bike onto the truck and we sped off to a police control checkpoint. I wasn't really sure if I was being arrested of not. In short, I was there for the next 4-5 hours. The fat officer and his peers were on the phone half the time and all the other, lower ranking officers wanted to hang out, get me food and drinks, and take selfies. I wasn't cuffed or anything, but at one point I did step out of the cab to grab something from my bike and was met by several jumpy officers. We started to drive off twice but officer Mohammed Fatasfuck would receive a call and we'd turn around. It was finally night when we drove to Al Minya. We parked, unloaded the bike and I was ushered into a tourist police office that was something out of an 80's KGB headquarters. I was brought into an office where I met with another officer Mohammed and later his boss, officer Mohammed. They ordered three mango drinks and as nice as they were, I made sure That I was the last to sip mine. We talked for a while and they were incredulous that I'd spent the night sleeping in the desert. Terrorists, snakes, foxes, and desert lions were among their chief concerns. The latter of which haven't even existed for several decades. Anyways, Mohammed and Mohammed assured me under no uncertain terms that I wasn't doing anymore cycling in Egypt. They'd initially asked was how much I could afford for a travel company to orchestrate the remainder of my trip. So, they weren't exactly reassured at my plans to stay in an unnamed hostel in Cairo and then bus to Israel or Jordan. They took it upon themselves to organize it for me at no cost. They made some calls and arranged a hotel that night, a bus the next day, and a hotel for the first night in Giza. After that, they claimed, I was free to do as I liked- or so was their claim. I didn't get to the hotel until around 11pm. It was nice, but if I were ever to have a room bugged with cameras, this would have been it. The next day I was escorted by flatbed pick to the bus station and after the bus, again to the hotel. The hotel was actually more of a resort... A FIVE STAR resort as was published there. They had no reservation in my name. The manager was very agitated with me. The police escort didn't want to get involved but called up the rank to a General Mohammed. About 2 minutes later the front desk's phone rang. The manager (Also Mohammed) went white in the face, hung up, and checked me in with profuse apologies. I have no idea what exactly was said over the phone, but can only imagine the threats that were made by General Mohammed of the Tourist Police. Anyways, I was told that I wouldn't be leaving the premises until checkout the next day. So, basically was under resort arrest with an officer positioned in the lobby. This place was fucking unreal though and my suite was the size of an apartment. I'm sure I couldn't afford anything off the menu, so rationed the leftover biscuits and crackers that I'd stocked from the petrol station and filtered the tap water. This I did, ironically, on my private balcony overlooking the crescent pool. I also was pretty numb and reflective. Here I was, on my balcony in a 5 star resort, that I did not pay for, with a personal bodyguard out front. Not only did I not deserve this, but I was told the two officers I'd evaded both lost a year's salary. Their account was much different than mine, but I'd asked the Mohammeds to go easier on them if they had a say. The next morning there was a small breakfast. Just kidding. There was a LOT of breakfast. I ate enough for a week. I had thought that morning I would be free, at least per what one of the Mohammeds had originally told me. Certainly not the case though. So, an officer was waiting out front with a flatbed. The officer's name was... Well, it was Hani. We drove to the tourist district of Giza where I thought I would be checking into a hostel. But first, General Mohammed wanted to meet with me. After some waiting and joking around with Hani (as he at least recognized how ridiculous this was) he ushered me through the security and ticket booth. And all of sudden I was facing the pyramids. Not at all how I'd anticipated it... But their presence was immense and the brief experience, surreal. Two military jeeps pulled up and 4 generals in suits came out. I met General Mohammed who spoke great English and shook hands with his peers. They drank tea, discussed amongst each other, and Mohammed asked about my travel plans which were to leave Egypt ASAP because there was clearly no end to this police attention. At the end of their discussion, Mohammed expressed their relief: "they think you look almost Egyptian" he said. After this was resolved, Hani and I headed to a hostel nearby. There was no one at reception and Hani got a call from Mohammed that a hotel was sorted. In the end, I handed over an $11 note for what otherwise must have been a $100 hotel. Hani took off and I was put in the hands of Daii, who would be my babysitter for the next two days... (A babysitter dressed in a full suit and armed with a tech-9.) He slept in the hotel lobby and we'd take turns buying each other meals. He at least had a sense of humor, like Hani and realized the ridiculousness of the situation. This came in handy especially when I went back to visit the pyramids. We were in tourist central, but luckily I had Daii to keep me safe! At least the camel handlers heckled me less as I was a VIP with a personal bodyguard. I took us off into the desert to the alignment point where you can see all the great pyramids in view. I felt a little bad that Daii was dusting up his nice leather shoes. He also had to stop to sit on a rock every few minutes to catch his breath. Sometimes he'd even light up another cigarette. "Mish Tammam" I'd say: not good. To which he'd smile and laugh. Well worth the trek though. There were few people around and away from the noisy and crowded city, you can appreciate the serenity of the desert, and observe the massive scale of these ancient pyramids still towering over the very modern, sprawling city. The next day I would take a bus from Cairo to the Taba border. Daii was instructed to follow me the entire way until I got stamped at immigration. We rode over the Suez Canal and through the surreal Sinai desert. The actual border crossing was an unceremonious end to my journey on the African continent. But I'd like to remember the highlight of Egypt as looking out at the pyramids. Old and new societies juxtaposed against one another, with my police friend Dai next to me. Out of breath, and smoking another cigarette.

[hejgyrus]

Cameron's First Time (p 1)

Pre-words: Ok just before we start... this is not legit, this is just the horny fantasy of a virgin fag (me!). Our story begins with Cameron (18 M) getting ready to go out on a date with his new boyfriend Ari (21 M).

//TL;DR to find fucking scene, do CTRL+F and type [FUCKING BOOKMARK]

Narrator: Tonight is Cameron's big night. His heart is flying all over the place as he prepares for his date with his new man he just met on the internet (this will end well, shut up). He has only seen pictures all over Instagram but he knows some things about Ari: he's ~6' 5", dirty blond, long-ass dreadlocks, works out, and tames horses. Cameron himself is: 5" 6', extremely white and red eye'd (he's somewhat albino, it's not obvious from a distance), 97 lb, white hair, and really smooth. For the past hour Cameron has been preparing for this event: choosing cloths, trying clear lipstick, regretting that choice, regretting that choice; and finally decided to just go for a cute messy look. A white button-down t-shirt, light grey shorts and some hair gel to make it seem as a bully gave him a nuggy. (he ended up going back on the lipstick).

Cameron: Fuck, shit, fuck, Fuck, FUCK!!!! Oh god, regret, regret! I'm not doing this, nope, nope, not today. I'll just... kill myself! Ya, that should be a good way out of this. No wait, science is too good for that, and Ari will find me dead.

*ding dong*

Cameron: I'M LEAVING, OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW! I CAN'T TAKE THIS.

*door knocking*

*Cameron walks towards door regretting*

Cameron: I'll just throw up on his shoes, that should make him leave.

*Open's door to a giant Manticore*

Cameron: Woh, Hi!

Ari: *snickers* wSup?

Cameron: (gently)Panicking, (fully)still alive

Ari: Ready to go?

Cameron: (NO!) Sure

Narrator: The two get into Ari's decent looking open cockpit jeep, and head off to an outdoor restaurant on the beach. When they arrived they saw a pretty fun place with a small main building and a field of beach couches surrounding picknick-like coffee tables, the sun was setting beautifully on the horizon. Cameron finally managed to compose himself.

Ari: This place is great, I worked here as a bartender while I was at school.

Cameron: Wow, what were you studying?

Ari: Veterinary practices.

Cameron: Ah

Narrator: The two sit at a "table" closer to the water, when a waitress comes over to to her job, you fill in the dialog.

Her:

Ari:

Her:

Cameron:

Her:

Cameron:

Narrator: Ari got a steak done cut up to be edible without leaning forward, and Cameron got a chicken salad, but the chicken is actually pork, it is a pork salad.

Ari: Aright, ya know what... I'm not good with dating...

Cameron: Oh don't worry, this is actually my first time.

Ari: Really! Then let's do the all the cliches, just for the lulz.

Cameron: Ok.

Ari: So tell me about yourself?

Cameron: Oh, god this is going to take a minute. I guess it all started when I was born.

Ari: ..

Cameron: I was born to a pair of Icelandic swingers who decided to elope to Israel, lying about being Jewish to get in free, who decided to fuck around and got stuck with me! I don't know much about them because the orphanage was incompetent for the most part, but they did tell me my mother was 7" 2'... I guess the Icelandic giant's gene.

Ari: Wait then why are you so short?

Cameron: There, actually, is a good reason for that! It's sad but good. Ok, so they left me at an orphanage... Now the Israelis are on the darker end of Caucasians, right? And the country is mostly a desert, so they didn't know my tolerance for sunlight, and decided to be conservative. I didn't really go out and play a lot. That didn't stunt my growth, but it did make me... smaller then the other kids.

Ari: How big did they get?

Cameron: Look at your arms and drop 3 inches

Ari: Oh

Cameron: So back to the house. *Narrator: Wow he opened up quick!* My first foster family was great, the dad was a high ranking military guy. The mother was very active in the community, her two sons were soo nice to me, always forcing me out of my shell and taking me out with their friends. Their friends, on the other hand, were not good people.

Ari: Y

Cameron: Well there's this word in Hebrew, "Arrsce"... It's a healthy mix of punk and bitch. They were that.

Ari: Where's this going...

Cameron: Well shit happened and they beat me up. Violently... comatose-ly. I lost 3 months of my life, and my Icelandic giant's gene.

Ari: Holy shit dude.

Cameron: Ya after that, and the media fire, technicalities happened and a US dignitary managed to "extradite" me to and keep me as his foster kid.

Ari: Lucky break?

Cameron: No he was pretty cold to me, and the rest of his family, but at 16 the state said I could leave the house and live somewhere else on their rent so long as I worked. And I did. I got an apartment over a subway where I still work.

Ari: Quite the life story.

Cameron: Ya I got use to my past.

Ari: But you can't accept that as normal, that was one of the saddest stories I heard in awhile.

Cameron: Too late.

Narrator: Ok I realize you have been waiting for the fucking, you fucking perv... I'll get to that soon...

Cameron: So what about you? You should have some stories.

Ari: Ahh well. My early life started off boring and bland from a broken family.

Cameron: Same!

Ari: He, sure... my life didn't really start until I got my first job a this little horse ranch. Well, like I said, bland and boring.

Cameron: You aren't boring, I love horses... at my size I need something under me to be my bitch (and it defiantly couldn't be you)

Narrator: The two continue to talk about meaningless drivvle to which I do not feel like writing out. If you have never been on a date, imagine a conversation... there ya go, that's what's happening. After a spectacular diner the two proceed to take a nice calm walk on the beach, now going dark.

Cameron: This is a day I won't forget for a long time, thanks for this luv.

Ari: Why dose it have to end? Ya know I have a whole tent and camping shit just lying around in my car, we could just camp out on the beach for the night.

Cameron: I don't know, I don't usually sleep with a guy I just met.

Ari: You've never dated.

Cameron: Point, let's do it!

Ari: Great, take this flashlight and start collecting fire wood, I'll go get the jeep... it's gonna take me about 10 minutes.

Cameron: *sarcastically* I miss you already.

Ari: Bye *kisses Cameron on the lips lightly, like they've been together for years*

Cameron: I... Iiii.. wut

Ari: *with slight regret* I'll be back *Leaves running*

Cameron: Wait I just let this guy leave me alone on a beach at night! He kissed me! How do I know he won't run away. Wait I just had my first kiss! *turns on this tiny pocket sized flashlight that lights up the entire rock face of the cliff the beach sits on* Wouw... I don't know how shallow he is but I'd come back for this flashlight.

Narrator: Cameron collects whatever scrap wood he could find, growing a large pile by the time Ari came back following the immensely powerful vibrator sized flashlight as a beacon.

Ari: Aright! Let's see what we got here...

Cameron: You kissed me.

Ari: Lemme just get started on this fire first.

Cameron: Is this how first times go?

Ari: *fiddling with matches* You mean me not thinking before I act, sure why not.

Cameron: Are we just going to forget that

Ari: *looks him in the eye awkwardly* Yes *Boops Cameron on his snoot*

Cameron: Ahowkey I'll just unpack the tent.

Ari: Oh its one of those spring loaded type deals, just pull off the straps and it will explode.

*Pulls off straps and out pops a giant tent*

Cameron: Oh!

Narrator: Now with the fire blazing and crackling because of moisture, the tent exploded out and tied in place with an inflatable mattress inside (No Ari isn't a creep who just caries around a fuck tent, and it isn't a fuck tent). The two just sit around staring off at the black horizon talking about some deep shit.

Cameron: I was beaten a lot.

Ari: Why

Cameron: Governor Shit-ass was for corporal punishment

Ari: What the cold American family

Cameron: Yup

Ari: You wanna talk about it.

Cameron: No.

Ari: What did they do.

Cameron: Everything.

Ari: Tell me.

Cameron: Nothing was ever right. I couldn't make my bed straight, speak without stuttering, keep straight A+(s) for 4 year.

Ari: *hold him* you're not alone.

Cameron: At some point, he couldn't stand me so much he put me in an orphanage in his town to teach me a lesson.

Ari: Did they also beat you?

Cameron: All because of him.

Ari: Hey, come here... ya wanna know something? One time my Dad was having one of his fits, and he threw me across the house so hard my arm broke in half. I came back at him so hard he lost consciousness.

Cameron: I've never been naked.

Ari: What.. how?

Cameron: I mean I bathe and everything, but in living alone for 2 years, I've never just been naked.

Ari: Was it Governor Shit-ass?

Cameron: The orphanage had a very creative way of punishing those who explore themselves.

Ari: What?

Cameron: The doctor said I started puberty, and the a week later, I got my first boner. I didn't understand what was happening so I ran to the bathroom and started poking around at it. And a nun followed me thinking I was sick, but she caught me, and she thought I was masturbating.

Ari: ..

Cameron: Then she dragged me out of the bathroom and kicked me senseless.

Ari: No

Cameron: But it didn't end there. The next day they took me to the auditorium, which had a thrust built out for a play. They stood me in the middle of the thrust and told me to strip.

Ari: Did you?

Cameron: I didn't understand why, but after I finished stripping and was just stood up there ashamed of myself I heard a storm of foot steps coming towards the door. I tried to run but the nuns were all there looking at me. Then the entire orphanage burst in looking confused until one boy pointed at me and started laughing.

Ari: Oh my god

Cameron: I tried to cover myself up but a nun whipped me on my back and told me to straighten up and put my hands on my head. *now crying a little* and I did.

Ari: *holds him tighter*

Cameron: Then she said, "This is what happens when you explore

your body, you have to share what you found!"

Ari: That's terrible

Cameron: The boys were just pointing at me laughing, and the girls were giggling and disgusted. I couldn't do anything but stand up there and cry. Then the nuns cleared a path for me to walk out naked and alone with my hands on my head, then they led me to my dorm and left me to get dressed.

Ari: ..

Cameron: I cried in my bed for hours until the rest of the boys came to go to sleep. I heard them talk about me, but they didn't notice me.

Ari: You were hiding.

Cameron: The next day no-one would look at me straight, and even one kid pantsed me in the middle of class so that everybody me see my bare ass like yesterday.

Ari: Hey look at me, that's all in the, loook at me. You're 18, you're out of the system. I'm here for you.

Cameron: *hugges Ari as hard as he could*

[FUCKING BOOKMARK]

Ari: D.. Do you want to be naked?

Cameron: Yes.

Ari: Ok come here, stand up. I'm here for you, just follow my lead.

*Ari standing on his knees starts unbuttoning Cameron's shirt slowly*

*Cameron watches him as one half of his face is pitch black and the other glows in the fire*

*Ari gets to the bottom of the buttons, and pulls his shirt off, letting it fall to the ground*

Ari: How do you feel?

Cameron: Nervous.

*Ari undoes Cameron's belt and with one swift move pulls it out leaving it a few feet away*

*Cameron feels his pants drop slightly, suddenly he feels some of that same fear from the orphanage*

*Ari undoes the single button holding Cameron's pants up and slowly lets them drop while looking him in the eyes*

*Cameron feels his knees shutter*

Ari: Now how do you feel?

Cameron: Scared.

Ari: Do you wanna keep going?

Cameron: *nods*

*Ari looks at Cameron's underwear, they were big loose black boxers*

*Ari slowly moves his hands up Cameron's smooth legs to his pants and gently grabs each side*

*Cameron remembers the feeling of that one boy who too pantsed him and prepares to cover what's underneath*

*Ari pulls, ever so gently and slowly taking in every moment of the experience, Cameron is about to break out of a thick shell. The waist line almost got to the base of Cameron's cock when he moves his hands in to cover himself.*

*Ari continues to pull until they're all the way down*

*Cameron has his head down, he's all tense... like he's hiding*

Ari: Look at me *tilts Cameron's head up*, how do you feel?

Cameron: Alone.

*Ari swiftly grabs Cameron and gently lays him on his back, on the sand, next to the fire and sits over him. All of Ari's dreads flow off the the right, away from the fire, forming a curtain. The fire illuminates Ari's whole face glowed in the fire*

*Ari grabs Cameron's wrists, still firmly covering what little was left, and moves them to his sides. Cameron is now totally exposed*

Ari: *softly* How do you feel?

Cameron: Like running away.

*Ari puts hand on Cameron's chest. Even if he wanted to, Cameron couldn't run away... but he didn't want to.*

Ari: What about now?

Cameron: I want to scream.

*Ari comes down and kisses him on the lips, he was so slow and took his time*

*Cameron whimpers slightly, he can feel Ari's tongue slowly slip through his lips and rest on his tongue. The sensations, emotions, and fears finally got to him and he blacked out*

Narrator: Ok what? I just got back in after I was forced out of the script because I was labeled a distraction for this scene. Ok.. so, the night goes by and Cameron slept like a rock. The next day he wakes up to the sun and finds himself undisturbed, the fire somehow went on all night and Ari was asleep at his side. There were a few people at the beach that early, all nude... turns out this was a nudist beach. Cameron pays them no mind as he walks into the ocean to wake himself up; the water is warm. Ari wakes up a few minutes later and sees Cameron's white hair glisten in the sun as he plays in the water. Ari found some of that weird instant-coffee-juice-shit and pours out 2 red solo cups. When Cameron got back, his smooth white skin wet and glowing in the sun, he sat down on Ari's lap, wrapped his arms around his neck and started to make out with him. Neither of them cared that they were being watched.