#so i don't have any of the information they ask for to 'verify my identity'!

[beesinspades]

guess who forgot the password for the ace tr*gun week accs so they can't access anything they're not logged into already (twt and tmblr are safe but i Need to access the carrd and if I get logged out of twt i'm utterly fucked) and is This Close from having a nervous breakdown over it

EDIT AFTER 2 HOURS OF LOSING MY MIND : I FOUND IT 😭😭😭

[perseph]

Hey I’m a huge fan of your Scarlet Witch blog! This may sound weird but I didn’t know who else to ask. I’m Indian and I learnt that the Roma were originally from India through your blog actually. No one really knows who the Romani are in India. But anyway, I wanted to ask if the Romani population considers themselves to be a part of the Indian diaspora or holds any ties to the country. I only ask because there are many cultural groups who migrated a while ago due to colonization but they still consider themselves to be a part of the diaspora, but I don’t really know anything about the Romani.

Hello! This is a nuanced subject, so I'm afraid my answer ran a bit long, but I hope you find it informative.

I know for a fact that Romani people are not entirely unknown in India. In modern history, Indian leaders and politicians have recognized the Roma as an Indian diaspora several times, including former Prime Minister Indira Ghandi, all the way back in the 1970s. And there are Indian scholars, such as Shyam Singh Shashi, Ph.D, who've conducted significant work on the history and origins of the Roma people. In 2016, External Affairs Minister Sushma Swaraj named the Roma as "children of India," and in 2018, the Croation Romani Union held several meetings with Indian leaders, including President Ram Nath Kovind, who met with Union leader Veljko Kajtazi at the office of the Croatian president.

Gaining institutional recognition as an Asian diaspora has been a vital part of our movement towards civil rights and legal representation. Because so much of our history and our circumstances in the West have been obscured by false narratives, just having the ability to advocate for ourselves as a racial minority-- with identifiable origins-- was something we've really had to fight for. And from an academic perspective, having the ability to represent ourselves and use modern linguistics and genetics to verify our history is also an important form of resitution.

The Romani diaspora is also incredibly diverse, with many different identities and dialects, so being able to unite under a common origin has been very helpful for organizing, especially on an international level. That's why it's often emphasized by events such as the World Romani Congress, particularly when it comes to unifying symbols, such as the international Romani flag-- which, as you may have noticed, contains a red wheel, or dharmachakra, inspired by the Indian flag.

Having said all that-- I don't personally know any Romani people who identify as Asian or Indian, purely on the basis of being Roma. Obviously, mixed people exist. But within the culture, Romani identity is typically predicated on its own set of rules and values, rather than one's genetic lineage or racial makeup, and for most of our history, we've really identified as our own distinct group. In my experience, a lot of people actually primarily identify by their vitsa, which is a smaller, more specific population within the diaspora. For example, I'm gitano, and I have friends who are Sinti, and we're more likely to use those words to describe ourselves, especially if we're talking firsthand about our families.

If you think about how the diaspora originated as a displaced population and began migrating west, then split off into smaller groups and arrived in Europe at different times, you can see that our cultural and communal identities-- and our languages-- developed in transit. As I said, much of our history has been lost and distorted, and it wasn't until relatively recently that we had the access and ability to retrace this part of our origin, so it's just not, traditionally, how we think of ourselves. In the present day, though, I think it's become more popular to place emphasis on our Asian roots, for all the reasons I've described, but also because it provides context for our shared language, customs, and spiritual beliefs. For example, there are goddess figures who appear in many permutations of Roma culture that are derived from Hindu belief, although they've taken on their own unique identities along the way, just as we have.

As we move towards the future, it is increasingly necessary that we open ourselves up to outsiders and figure out how to become more laterally united, without compromising our distinct, diverse identities. These things are difficult to navigate, and I don't wish to speak on them, but I think a lot of Roma are reconsidering what it means to be Romani people in the world, and finding different ways to relate to our Indian origin is gonna be a big part of that.

[smokescreenimusprime]

watched tf one the other night with my best friend and now I've been Re-Mental Illnessed, here's some Rescue Bot Smokescreen Rot I rotated while driving home :]

I think I've finally hammered out some more details of Inside Job and this is what I came up with:

like canon it starts with the Omega Keys. Specifically when Bulkhead gets attacked and knocked unconscious when looking for one

And against direct orders, Smokescreen leaves the base to go get him

there were a bunch of reasons why he did what he did. A desire to prove his capability as an EMT. He wants to be a field medic like Ratchet is, he wants to be able to do more than just wait for them to come back injured when the more time that passes the more dangerous it could be. There was also the fear of losing anyone else, especially so soon after he befriended Bulkhead. It's barely been a few days since they started getting along, and the loss of the entire Rescue Bot Force is still raw

so he goes, and finds Bulkhead unconscious and alone in the woods, with the only injury being some scratches and a blow to the back of the helm. Smokescreen doesn't have a scratch on him as they hobble back to base

it doesn't stop Ratchet's anger

Now, don't get me wrong, Ratchet is angry because he was scared. Smokescreen could've been in very real danger. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side of that portal. For all they knew, the Decepticon soldiers could've still been there, and they could've lost the last Rescue Bot in existence

but unfortunately, he says all this when still angry

and Smokescreen, as thick as his skin is from experiencing years of discrimination, is genuinely hurt by it. This isn't just a fellow medic or instructor yelling at him, this is his idol berating him for what he thought was the right thing to do

this is his idol unknowingly repeating the words that followed him all throughout his training and that he sought to prove wrong, and he has no idea how to respond

so he runs. He drives as fast and far away as he can, shuts off his comm because he just. Can't right now. He can't interact with them right now because frankly he doesn't trust himself to speak and not say something he would regret to his dying days

and unknowingly this puts him right in the Decepticon's claws

some aspects of his capture stay the same. He wakes up in the medbay strapped to a table, the Omega Key is extracted, and he is placed under the cortical psychic patch

but the differences happen in the details

His restraints are barely more than a pair of manacles that he could've probably figured out how to escape if given enough time. The Omega Key was removed before he even woke up, the incisions of surgery fresh on his frame but the work is well done with obvious care. With the patch, the mental prodding and information gathering is... oddly gentle and quick, doing barely more than verifying what the Keys are and Smokescreen's identity as a Rescue Bot before retreating

Smokescreen is not a warrior after all. He is a bot thought to be long since extinct who quite literally dropped out of the sky at their feet without warning. He may have loyalty to the Autobots but... he's not fighting this war. Not really. He's just been doing what Rescue Bots do: helping those who need it.

The "cell" he's kept in, if it can even be called that, was an old now-dead officer's quarters. The door is locked and there are guards stationed inside watching him at all hours, but they are not cruel. He gets a healthy amount of rations regularly, and has even been given a data terminal to keep himself entertained (of course, no before Soundwave had thoroughly firewalled and restricted anything that could be used against them)

the most stressful part of his capture is when Megatron comes to visit. Every day without fail, he will come check in on how Smokescreen is doing. He will ask how he's doing and they talk. About Cybertron, about the war, about how accepting the Rescue Bots were, allowing any Cybertronian regardless of caste to join, how much of a tragedy it was for them to have been wiped out.

Smokescreen is not blind to how he attempts to sow seeds of doubt into the Autobots into him. About how cruel it was for them to keep him confined to the base, how cruel Trion was for implanting a relic without his knowledge, questions if Smokescreen truly wanted to help them or if that's just what they've pressured him into doing with false promises that crumble like glass

but instead of refuting him... Smokescreen decides to play along

after all, Megatron obviously sees him as a poor, innocent, helpless bot who could be swayed by some sweet words and a cage advertised as protection

and that facade would make it all the easier to escape when the time came :)

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Holding Out for a Hero Villain

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: T

Contents: Non-graphic mentions of mass murder including of children, suggestive dialogue

Getting caught with a sleeping quirk was not what he was expecting, but Dabi wakes with his hands completely encased in quirk-neutralizing cuffs and locked in an interrogation room and that is pretty much what he expected if he ever got brought in, so that’s something he supposes. He leans back in the chair. He doesn't feel any extra bumps or bruises that might indicate they took a blood sample, but they definitely could have taken hair or swabbed his cheek. He doesn't feel like he's been asleep for longer than seven hours, but the quirk could have a different feel than normal sleep. He assumes that means that they are likely in the process of verifying his identity. Which means--

It's absolutely not a surprise when Endeavor, Hawks, and some cop come into the room as he leans back in his chair and waits. And yeah, Enji's eyes are going over his face desperately, like he's looking for any trace of Toya that might be left and all Dabi can do is give him a vicious grin before he turns his attention to Hawks. 

"Blowing your load a little early, aren't you, birdy? Guess being the fastest hero isn't always a good thing, is it?" 

His wings don't even twitch, but Dabi has been around him for long enough to know that when the spy is holding himself that rigidly, it's because he is trying to keep his mask on. "Dabi, or should we say 'Toya'? Good to see you again, man." 

He shrugs, not paying any attention to Endeavor. This isn't how his reveal was supposed to go and he is not going to start in on him when he can't back the words up with his flames at the moment. "Call me what you want, doesn't matter. You're going to let me out soon enough anyway." 

The cop takes lead next, moving to sit across from him at the table. "You seem confident in that, but you are an A-ranked villain, Mr. Todoroki. Surely you know that we have a vested interest in keeping you here before your relocation to Tartarus." 

"Oh sure," he agrees. "And you are?" 

"My apologies, Detective Tsukauchi." 

"The living lie-detector! Huh, nice to meet you." Hawks can't quite keep his wings from giving an aborted little twitch at that. Dabi doesn't react to it. Hawks had definitely not given him information about Tsukauchi, but their PLF members in the police force certainly had. He's never been more pleased that he decided to take the ribbing from the rest of the League after Deika by showing up 'empty-handed' after going off to recruit again in favor of keeping the double agent as out of the loop as possible. Endeavor tenses too, and he is thrilled to have already put them on their back foot just by knowing more than they expected him to. He reclines as much as he can in his chair. The fact his ankles are chained down is the only reason his feet aren't on the table. 

"I didn't realize my reputation would proceed me." The detective gives him a placid smile. "Can you elaborate on why we would let you out given your... extensive list of crimes?" 

"Because if you don't then you're going to watch Japan fall apart around you." He waits to see if the detective spots a lie, however he manages to do so with his quirk. 

"Hmm, well until then, we have some other questions that we'd like to ask you." 

Dabi settles in. Mostly ignoring them as he starts to count the very faint ticks he can hear from the detective's watch. He's not giving them anything else. Now he just has to wait. 

///

The trio left after about an hour of him stonewalling them and Dabi did his best to just doze again in the chair. He's gonna have so much to catch up on once he's out, that he's damn certain that getting the extra sleep will be more helpful than not. 

It feels like maybe another two hours have passed before Endeavor and Tsukauchi come back into the room, his father definitely a little paler than he usually is beneath his flames, the fire of his mask flickering the way it does when he's agitated enough to be having some difficulty controlling it. 

"Already? I thought you'd hold out at least a day." He had been settling in for a week at minimum with torture, but he'll take whatever he can get. 

"Sekoto Peak is gone." 

Which. Oh. Okay. Dabi blinks. That's not what he expected his father to say, but still, "That's wild. So are you taking the cuffs off now or after you let me back onto the street?" 

"We're not letting you go," Enji growls. 

"Okay. I'm going back to sleep then." 

"You don't seem very surprised about this. Were you aware that this attack was coming?" 

"That wasn't an attack, that was a warning shot." He yawns. 

"A 'warning shot'?" 

He hums, "He's giving you a chance to stop being stupid and let me go before he escalates." 

"Shigaraki? He didn't come for any of the other members of the League that we've captured, why would you be any different?" 

"I'm his favorite." It is funny to see his father glance at the detective to see if he's telling the truth. "You let me go, or what happens next is on you." He shoots a vicious smile at Enji, "Not that you've ever cared about the consequences of your inaction before." 

They try to wheedle out anything else they can from him, but he doesn't give an inch until they leave. 

///

It's only an hour before Hawks and the detective return, Hawks' feathers shining because they've gone sharp with his fury. 

Dabi waits for them to speak with a lazy grin. 

"Endeavor isn't here because his home, the hospital that your mother was located at, and the school your sister works at were destroyed." 

"Oh, that was a big hospital wasn't it? And Fuyumi's a grade-school teacher isn't she? Man, that must have sucked for her. I wonder if she tried to hold any of her students together before they crumbled into dust." 

"This isn't funny, Dabi!" The bird loses his temper. Always been able to get him furious by just barely laying on his buttons. "Two hundred children and five hundred people are dead."

"Yeah they are, and that's entirely on you, birdy. You could have kept playing ball and I still wouldn't have given you anything, but you wouldn't have the blood of seven hundred civilians on your hands." He considers. "Did Rei and Fuyumi survive?" 

"They didn't." It's a lie, and not even a good one. The bird's wording of the casualties gave too much away. His father would only not be here because he suddenly had no choice but to very publicly take care of his family in the wake of a tragedy.  

"Well isn't that interesting." Because if they did survive, if Duster decided to start with those places, then that means the treatments have progressed well ahead of schedule. "Are you letting me out now? Or do you want to see how much more damage he can do?" 

"We're preparing your transfer to Tartarus." The detective tells him. "We'll complete your interrogation there and move forward with pursuing a trial." 

"Okay, then everything else is on your hands too." 

///

He's not expecting the next person who opens the door to the interrogation room. Dabi had thought that it would be the police, heroes, whoever they found to escort him to the transport or whatever. He was not expecting a red-eyed Natsuo to step in the room, face an aching mixture of fury and sorrow. Dabi forces the tightness in his own throat away before he leans back in his chair again and drawls, 

"Hey little brother." 

"Toya this has to stop." His voice trembles, cracks, tears slipping over his cheeks. "My school-- everything around it-- Toya, it's gone. He destroyed it. He killed everyone else." 

"Yeah, I told them that would happen. It's going to keep happening until I'm back home--" Neither he nor Natsuo are prepared for the detective and two even more harried looking cops to burst in at that moment. 

"Jaku, Otheon, and Esuha City have all been hit simultaneously. Eight city blocks have been wiped out." Huh, must have gotten Twice's help with that one. 

"From each? Wow, he's losing his patience, haven't seen him mad in ages." The cops usher Natsuo out before he can get a word in and the detective stays behind, dragging a hand over his face. "Look, I told you: This is not going to stop until I'm free and call him off. You can keep holding out, you can try to trick him, kill me, whatever, but it won't stop until he has me back home. And if you keep waiting like this, he's not even going to have to tear this place down, because I'm sure the average citizens, the people who you're letting die, are going to get fed up sooner rather than later too." 

There's an achingly long beat, but then the detective tells the others, "Prep him for transport." 

They manage to get him up and locked in with four armed guards who take him downstairs to the vehicle bay, and loaded into the the back of the truck before the next call comes in, Tsukauchi not moving nearly far enough away to hide the crackling of his walkie-talkie that says that, 

"The HPSC building has been destroyed. A new drop-off point is being selected." He leans back against the wall of the armored van and waits as they lock his limbs back into place. 

Not even a full day and they break. Pathetic.

///

They drive him out into the middle of Deika. He knows it as soon as they open up the back of the van, and he gets the barest glimpse of the surroundings before they put a bag over his head and then they stand and wait. And wait. And wait. 

Eventually Dabi risks getting shot and just plops down on the broken ground. He can feel the warmth of the sun on his skin for a little while, but it fades, and the light behind the cloth blinding him also goes. Whatever. 

"He didn't show." Hawks. Which, okay, didn't know he was here. "Maybe you're not as important to him as you think you are." 

"Maybe." 

"Let's bring him to Tartarus." 

Hands on his chains again, pulling him off of the ground and loading him back into the van. Dabi lets them lock him in. It takes ten minutes before their little caravan is trundling along again. They drive for an hour, until the wheels are going over smoothly paved roads again, before he starts to hear it. 

From somewhere in the distance, there is crashing, crunching, screaming. The cops around him start to shout, trying to figure out what's happening and Dabi just does his best to brace for impact. He doesn't know if this is Shigaraki himself, Gigantomachia, Geten, or any of their other heavy hitters, but something is coming to hit this caravan. His ears pop as wind rushes in as the doors of the vehicle are yanked out of place with a wrenching metallic tear. He's chained down, but god, that motion makes his stomach twist. He hears the cops yelling, but the sound grows more distant as they're pulled out of the car, Hawks shouting, 

"Everyone off the ground!" 

Oh good. That means it is his lover after all. The truck swerves, hits a bump, and Dabi goes weightless for a second before something very solid is grabbing onto him. He hears the chains snap, and then the distinct sound of something decaying, before he's feeling his body covered in a deluge of dust. It takes him a second to realize that he's in someone's arms, against their chest for a handful of weightless seconds before they land back on the ground, skidding to a stop. 

"Are you hurt, firefly?" 

Wait. "What the fuck, are you ripped now?" 

"Dabi." 

"I'm fine, put me down and get this shit off of me. I have a bird to turn into fried chicken." 

Duster does put him down and then Dabi feels his hand, his whole hand, against his cheek through the bag. The fabric turns to dust and he blinks it away as it falls over his head and shoulders. Decay crawls over his skin harmlessly until it reaches the cuffs at his wrists, the ones still tight around his ankles, and those fall away as well. And Tomura really is right here. White hair much longer than before it was when he went into the tank, body corded with fresh muscle, and control over his quirk that Dabi didn't even know would be possible. 

No one can really blame him for that all being so hot that he immediately tangles his hands in that thick, soft hair and pulls him into a kiss. Least of all Tomura, because his lover's hands wrap tightly around his hips and pull him in close, kissing him back just as fiercely. Kisses him like they haven't gotten to in two and a half months and after an entire day of worry. Definitely ruins the moment when a gun goes off. 

Dabi is expecting pain, or expecting Tomura to be in pain, but he doesn't even flinch as the bullet connects with his shoulder. As he pulls away and glares up somewhere behind him as the bullet is pushed back out of his skin and the wound heals over. He lifts a hand and there's a loud sucking sound as all of the air seems to be pulled out of the vicinity, the pressure changing so fast it makes his ears pop, and then Duster lifts his hand and sends out a blast of air so intense that the closest two cops who were floating, held aloft by Hawks' feathers, turn into ragdolls as their bones are snapped from the force of it, the boom loud enough Dabi's pretty sure his ears will be ringing for a few days, as Hawks retreats back even further from them with the rest of the convoy. It's practically a small army that he'd tried to save before Duster got to them, but he has plenty of feathers for it. Or at least that would be the case if this was like Fukuoka and there was somewhere for him to land as he used the feathers for rescue only, but as it is now, he's visibly struggling to hold himself up on the tiny wings he has left as the others keep the rest of the police and a handful of other heroes aloft, none of them wanting to risk touching the ground after seeing what Shigaraki can do. 

A few heroes, including his father, but no, "They didn't send Eraser Head?" 

"A double took a parade to Musutafu." Tomura explains, settling one arm back around his waist. "I'm not sure how much longer that distraction will hold, if you want to finish these ones off, firefly?" 

"Tempting," But he doesn't know if the one who knocked him out is here. He didn't get a good look at them before they hit him, and he would hate for both of them to end up back in chains after how much effort his lover put into coming and getting him. "But I'm more interested in going home and seeing what else your treatments changed." He presses in even closer, like he'll be able to feel it through the plates of armor beneath his new suit. "Did anything else get even bigger?" 

"You're incorrigible." 

"You're shockingly romantic. All of my family members?" 

"I figured you would be upset that your reveal was ruined." 

"I love you." 

Tomura's eyes soften and he presses another soft peck to his lips. "I love you too, baby. Come on, let's go home." 

The tar claws its way up their throats, and in a matter of seconds, they're gone. 

[memory-loss-maria]

i feel awful doing this, but i am exhausted and have nowhere else to turn at this point.

my name is maria, and i am homeless in new mexico. i have been homeless for two years. the short version of this post is that i am asking for $150 for two nights in a hotel, plus food.

0/150

i included some official paperwork from new mexico's disability vocational rehabilitation department, which exists to help disabled people find long-term careers. i cut out some identifying details because i don't feel safe putting a lot of personal information online, especially with the circumstances that led to me being homeless. my url is a reference to the fact that the tests the dvr department gave me show that my working memory is in the bottom 20th percentile, meaning it's absolutely awful. that, combined with what is most likely chronic fatigue syndrome, has basically made it impossible for me to find a job.

(i am currently going to a free clinic for homeless people to try and get a diagnosis of cfs by process of elimination. so far they have ruled out diabetes and thyroid problems. but things are going very, very slow. as you can imagine, if it's not an emergency it's not a priority for these clinics.)

i am asking for money because i am in a lot of pain today, and it's going to be 101° today and tomorrow.

i don't stay in a shelter because i am a lesbian and the shelters here are all catholic.

i don't have any friends, and i haven't talked to my family in years. i don't have food stamps because the state has had some problem verifying my identity and i haven't been able to get a copy of my birth cerificate because i wasn't born in new mexico.

if you can, please help. i have been outside in the heat all summer, and having a break from that would mean the world to me. thank you for reading. ❤️

[myrfing]

hi!!! sorry this might be a bit of an odd ask, but i saw that you get some comms from the crepe site (the eating gif one is sooooo cute) and i wanted to ask what the process was like to use that site to order commissions? is knowledge of korean needed? is it like skeb where you can enter comm details in english and it auto translates it for the artist? thank you for your time!

HI not odd at all! I hope more people use crepe, there's many talented artists on there. There is no auto-translate like on skeb. I run everything through the DeepL translator or good old google translate. I also use the Simple Translate extension for Firefox to make this a lot easier. I have 0 knowledge of Korean so I like to double check back and forth & try to use simple, straightforward phrases. Thankfully the website is also designed pretty intuitively, it's just a lot double checking on my end :J...

I pay via stocking up on Points via Paypal and use that to pay artists. In short: you select a commission type from the artist's page, fill out and send in their request form (it seems to be customizable on their end so they differ between artists), and if they accept your commission, they will invoice you via the site's chat system. They will also likely ask any questions they have about your request in here. Once the site confirms your payment, then it's relayed to them to begin working on your commission. Some artists offer check sketch, etc., stages that are facilitated by the site in the same chat, some don't. When they finish, the site will notify you via email & that chat thread, you receive the file, review it, and confirm the completion. At that point, no changes can be made, and the transaction is complete.

Here's a shitty mspaint guide:

To sign up via email:

Follow this link. Enter your email and hit the link to send an authentication email.

2. In the email from crepe, hit the verify button.

3. Fill out your new credentials, then hit the create account button. You can review the terms & services via the subtitle link.

4. This next page asks you what your account is for. The left box = I'm here to commission artists. The right box = I'm here to take commissions as an artist. Make sure the left box is selected and hit next. (Text below informs you you can swap to an artist account later, and artists can commission from other artists)

5. It then scrolls you to the option to verify your identity. This lets you communicate via kakaotalk, adds a layer of security, and verifies your age for 18+ commissions, but unless you have some form of S. Korean ID, hit "I want to do it later". Then hit the "I don't want to verify now" option again on the confirmation popup. I'll add on to this post on how to verify via passport as an overseas user, but it's not necessary unless you want to get hole & pole commissions.

6. Account creation complete :~)! the button just takes you to the front page which displays random commissions you can browse.

To commission an artist:

I'll use the artist who did the snacking animation for me as an example! Say you find an artist you really like, and you go on their page. Here's an overview.

Let's say I click on the top one. It will take me to this page. Scroll down and review all the information and terms about this particular commission type. Artists will tell you what you get, what they will and won't draw, pricing caveats, what you're allowed to do with the commission, and whatever other pertinent info here.

2. Once you've reviewed everything, scroll back up and hit apply. The price is a range; artists will tend to charge more for high detail/addons!

3. You will be taken to their application form. Again, this is different for each artist, and you're gonna need to carefully fill it out case-by-case. Once you've filled out everything required, scroll all the way down and the submit button should no longer be greyed out. It's purple like all the buttons so far. Hit that, and it will show you your completed application and send it to the artist.

4. At this point, you wait for them to either accept or deny your commission. Here's an overview of your header bar menu, click on your icon to access it. You can check commission progress history, the application you submitted, and your messages here. Your messages are where you're going to be alerted if the artist accepts or not, it will have a notif mark. You can also stock up on points, but you can also do that when they invoice you.

5. Once the artist accepts, you'll get a message. It's in the messages where you'll deal with all communication and the procession of your commission. If you're not completing your steps (i.e. paying, checking the sketches) by hitting the purple buttons, the commission can't continue. These buttons will sometimes take you to different pages, i.e. charging points for the invoice, to the comm timeline page to receive your files and confirm steps...U Must play it by ear here and translate on your own because I'd need an ongoing commission to show you & I'm on ice soup week right now

But that's pretty much it! Some things:

I usually begin my applications with a blurb specifying I'm using a translator as an overseas customer in case they are not comfortable working with the language barrier or I start saying some crazy ass mistranslated shit to them. Ex: 안녕하세요! 저는 기계 번역을 사용하는 해외 고객입니다. 번역이 제대로 되지 않은 텍스트에 대해 사과드립니다. 해외 고객은 받지 않는지 알려주세요.

I tried asking if an artist takes tips once, but there's no built-in system for it and Paypal seems to be the only avenue for it, which I think the site disallows you from sharing (?) to keep transactions moderated by the site. They said "don't worry about it", but I dunno if this is universal

Try to not leave descriptions in your ref images, it's hard to read in your application. Enter it as text in the boxes.

I leave a review once per artist within a month, I am nooot sure about the etiquette about leaving multiple reviews. I don't think it would hurt but uhhh I haven't checked

"Omakase" = artist's choice for most of the image composition. You can still give refs of course and make a simple request, but this means you can't nitpick/have total control over what the artist draws.

"Water level" = NSFW 18+ stuff. I habe no idea what a better translation for the term is yahoo mario water level

👍 enjoy your beautofial art

[coolbeesbro]

So I set up my new stuff on Etsy hoping I'll have better luck there and biting the bullet on listing fees, and already I've had 2 scammers in my inbox that start off making it sound like I just got a sale.

This is just 1 since I didn't think to screenshot the other before I marked it as spam, but that's just downright cruel. Taking advantage of someone who you can see hasn't made any sales, especially right now, takes a special kind of evil.

Although this goes without saying, just in case this is a PSA to others that sell on Etsy, do not follow any link or type any URL's that they ask you to.

Taking this opportunity to point this out (I didn't pick up on these parts before until I saw a video on TokTok) notice how they ask me to type in COM and not .com? It's usually small things like this that trick people into trusting it, because it look similar enough to be legitimate that some people (myself included at one time) won't think twice about it. Likely, this link would lead to somebody hacking into your device or account to steal information such as credit card and banking info that you might have attached or saved. The scary thing is, you may not even know you have one right away.

This also applies to other phishing scams, mainly pertaining to PayPal (I've gotten these emails many times). They (the hacker and not PayPal) send you a message that looks just plausible enough to trick somebody into thinking you just made a purchase, won't give any form of specification, and will have an attached PDF "receipt" that they ask you to click on. This usually tricks people into doing so because you think, "Hey, I didn't make any purchases with PayPal, what was ordered?" you click on it then BAM they can get into your system. I unfortunately did this myself once and my phone slowly stopped working over the course of a year, I started getting a lot of texts trying to get me to follow suspicious links, calls from the "FBI" and "IRS", and I had to change the passwords to all my accounts because the person even tried hacking into my actual PayPal account. My phone would get absurdly hot, and the full battery would last 4 hours at best.

Never click on a PDF document from any sketchy emails, because a virus can and will infect your device (computers and phones) by hiding malicious code in it. These forms of attack are usually in the form of spyware to track what you do on that device and collect your private information so the hacker can commit fraud or identity theft. It could also download ransomware and lock you out of your device unless you pay them, and also threaten to leak private information (some of which being outing someone LGBT+, leaking nudes, and doxing) to scare you into giving them what they want.

There's a way you can always tell if it's a scammer, and that's by checking the actual email. PayPal emails are always going to be one of these two: service@paypal.com or member@paypal.com. If you cant remember making a payment and get an email from one of these, it can still be a scammer that can change 1 or 2 letters subtly. For example: Service@paypal.com, member@PayPal.com. If you have any suspicions, just go straight to your PayPal account and check for any bills/receipts there. If you don't seen anything, it's best to report those emails to PayPal directly so they can either verify it as one of theirs (it won't be if it differs at all from the two I showed) and work towards flagging and taking it down for others later down the line who may be tricked.

Anyways, this has just been a PSA since something good can come from the asshole who sent me this message. Hope this can help at least 1 person.

[femmefatalevibe]

how to find/make good friends or friends that will be there for you. haven’t really had a good record with making friends in the past but i want to expand my social circle outside of work my phone is dry af i literally get 0 notifications :/

Making connections that flourish into fulfilling, long-lasting friendships can feel like hidden treasures, so I totally get you. Among my friends and I (mid-late 20s), it's so normal to feel like your friend group is constantly in flux to some degree. In terms of where to meet people, I suggest the following ideas:

Try meeting people who share a mutual interest: Join a book club, or sports/volunteer group, or take a class (workout, language, painting, cooking, improv, dance, etc.) and strike up a conversation with someone who you feel you vibe with. A simple compliment, smile, and short introduction can go a long way.

Find museums, galleries, coffee shops, parks, dog parks, etc. to hang out. Enjoy yourself, and strike up a conversation with someone who seems friendly/like you would vibe. You never know who you can meet in places you frequent who have similar lifestyles/common interests.

Join mutual interest groups on Facebook or pages on Instagram etc. for your local area. Reach out to someone who seems like-minded. If you vibe and their identity is easy to verify, try to meet IRL.

Consider more chill bars/quiet lounges/any nightlife spot that most "your vibe" if you will – you're more likely to meet similar people.

Become a local at a certain café, coffee shop, nail salon, bookstore, etc. It's easier for both parties to chat up a familiar face than a stranger they don't recognize. You already have a mutual activity to bond over, too.

Consider connecting with people on LinkedIn in your field for a coffee talk/informational interview. It's a great way to meet people with similar interests and goals. At worst, you both have a new professional connection. At best, you might have made a new friend or someone who can introduce you to one. Less stiff and awkward than trying to befriend coworkers (which can also create some sticky situations, too, if you're not careful).

Join online groups surrounding your interests on social media. Create content/accounts of your own and interact with people's content/personalities you like. Initiating a chat with someone you have great rapport with on a public discussion or is a mutual connection on a certain platform can't hurt.

If you live in a dorm or in an apartment/complex with people in your age group, hang out in the public spaces, and don't be afraid to say hello when the moment feels right (offering a compliment, asking a question, etc.)

On how to be a good friend, check out my guide on How To Find & Be A Good Friend To Other High-Value Women.

Hope this helps xx

[romssidewaystooth]

The infuriating experience of trying to apply for health insurance and the application ONLY asks for assigned sex at birth. Which I was immediately skeptical of because I don't know what they ACTUALLY want.

Are you trying to match this with my ID? I sent a copy of my driver's license in to verify my identity. My license says I'm male. That is not the sex I was assigned at birth. There would be a mismatch.

Is this what they are going to use to determine how to categorize me for medical procedures? I am a post-op man with no uterus, ovaries, vagina, or breasts. I have a dick and balls and have been on HRT for over 10 years which means my risk factors fall on the male side of things.

This shift in language to account for trans people actually makes info collection WORSE for us when there is no recognition of the fact that our current (legally recognized!) gender/sex could differ from what we were assigned. I'm not saying there are NO possible cases where my assigned sex might be relevant, but every time I fill out a form like this I am left guessing what I need to put down in order to have my information recorded accurately and receive proper treatment.

These forms NEED to ask for what they actually want. "What is the gender currently listed on your ID?" is a perfectly valid way to ask a question if that is the information that is actually being sought. If your new doctor's office needs to record what sex you are listed as on your insurance in order to send a claim, "assigned sex at birth" is NOT an accurate way to collect that information. The form should literally say "what is the sex listed on your insurance?" Be as specific as possible!

And if you aren't willing to do that, then just go back to asking for "sex" instead of "assigned sex at birth", because at least that leaves some room for self-determination and then further specifics can be gathered as needed. (Of course many places do not WANT us to have any self-determination, so, you know.)

[queerprayers]

do you have any advice on picking a good new name for oneself? i don't feel connected to my current one and would like a more spiritual one but i don't know how to pick the "right" one

Hi, beloved! You asked this ages ago so it's very possible this is no longer relevant to you. If you have one—congratulations on the new name! Either way, I'll answer, hoping I can help you or perhaps someone else who's thinking about this!

Name changing happens often in the Bible—it's usually symbolic in some way, and often very dependent on the meaning of the name. Abraham (formerly Abram) and Israel (formerly Jacob) both have their names changed in an encounter with God and an angel(? debatable), respectively; Jesus renames Simon "Cephas/Peter," which means "rock;" Saul starts being addressed as Paul (the Latinized version of his Hebrew name) as he becomes more active in Christian communities and leaves Judaism further behind. People entering monasteries/convents often pick a new name, and Catholics traditionally choose a saint's name for their confirmation. You have lots of holy company, is what I'm trying to say!

Finding a name in the Bible could be your place to start—I love the figure in Luke's gospel I'm named after, and her calling as a myrrh-bearer inspires me immensely. If there's a figure that's close to your heart, who mirrors your journey, who you aspire to follow, you could choose their name, especially if you connect with its meaning! This website lists Biblical names/origins—it doesn't seem to include sources, so I can't verify every single one (maybe check another source to be sure about something), but from skimming it it looks useful/accurate!

As I mentioned, choosing a saint name is also very common—and there are tons to choose from! Even if you're not Catholic and whatever your theology about saints, people who Christian communities remember and honor can give you inspiration and meaning. Catholic.org and Wikipedia both have pretty exhaustive lists—you could narrow it down by thinking about time periods, patronage, location, tradition, or anything else that's meaningful/relevant to you.

Naming a child with a family/cultural name is obviously common, and that could be something you do for yourself as well! Connecting with your ancestors/communities could help you feel more connected to yourself. 

I've mentioned it, but a lot of people think about the meanings of names. There's tons of iffy information out there, so I would recommend looking at multiple sources (I know this because I used to use baby name websites to name fictional characters, and some of them were just completely contradictory!). There are biblical concepts, like Sophia/Wisdom, but you could think about any concept/value/theology you connect with and go from there. 

Any decision can be spiritual when we approach it purposefully, and I think any name could be spiritual if you find meaning in it. I can't promise there's one "right" name—the people I know who found new names took time and tried some out along the way. It might be more of a choice, a mindful acceptance, rather than a lightning bolt out of the sky moment of resurrection. You also don't have to have a deep connection with a name—you've said you want one, so of course I support that, but it's not, like, wrong to just… have a name. (If you're reading this and you've never thought about your name/its meaning in your life, I support you.) However it works out, I wish you (and anyone else thinking about this) courage and curiosity as you seek out a new identity. 

The thought I leave you with is this (if you'd like it): God calls us by name—sometimes that's the moment we see Them fully. What name do you want God to call, what name would wake you from sleep and cause you to genuinely respond with, "Here I am; you called me"? 

<3 Johanna

P.S. I found two prayer rituals for renaming while looking around, and I thought I'd link them—one of them is specifically for gender transition, but parts of it could be meaningful for anyone!

Unitarian Universalist Transgender Renaming Ceremony

Episcopal Service of Renaming from The Book of Occasional Services (pg. 120)

[northwest-cryptid]

So I was looking over the rules for the "name 100 women" challenge because I thought it would be silly to do it on stream and I noticed something...

"No family, friends, or ex girlfriend or neighbors or any of that shit they have to be googleable women / public figures"

...Fuck that.

No seriously, fuck that.

You want to test if people know women yea? It's supposed to be like, for women's month or whatever. Alright, let me build up and mention women who matter in my life, let me mention my friends; let me name people who I know who may not be public figures or famous people but who are still important people.

Are you trying to say they're lesser? That they don't matter, that they don't count? Why the fuck not? Because you can't confirm their existence?

Okay here's another thing yea? What do you mean "they have to be googleable women" guess what fucker EVERYONE IS GOOGLEABLE. That doesn't mean shit, my mom is googleable if you know her name. Almost everyone has a fucking facebook, tumblr, twitter; whatever. That means you can google them!

Half the musical/visual artists or otherwise creative people I know are women, but can I list them? Apparently not because the very popular streamer lady says they don't count?

Fuck that.

You also can't have rules like "Can be Streamers + Can be any version of their name" and then pair that with "BUT I HAVE TO BE ABLE TO FIND THEM ON GOOGLE!"

Nah man fuck that, because here's the other big thing, The version of their name I'm familiar with could be from back in the day, there's even a "can be dead women" rule. So what if I name a dead woman, by a name she used back when I knew of her; but that name isn't very well known? Well it doesn't count because it's not googleable uwu.

Fuck that.

You want me to name 100 women? Sure I'll happily name 100 women. You want me to name 100 women you can find on the internet? Sure that's fine.

...You want to limit it to exclusively the popular women? No.

Fuck that.

Limiting it to exclusively popular well known women is so lame, let me name the people who are important to me, the music artists who make the shit that connects with me; not just "Taylor swift" because she's "googleable" that shit doesn't matter to me, her music doesn't matter to me; she doesn't matter to me. You know who IS a woman who has had a big impact on my life? Tamika, the happy hardcore singer who likes to remain fairly anonymous and goes by Tamika for the sake of being credited in songs she sings for. She was responsible for the vocals in a ton of HH songs I heard at clubs growing up and her daughter Kayliana, another woman; has followed in her footsteps to bless my ears with even more lyrical goodness.

But of course if you look up either of them they're not googleable because they wish to remain somewhat secret, they're only ever credited by first names and asking the DJs they have worked with will get you an answer of "they would like to keep their identity vague" so what am I not supposed to highlight these two genuinely skilled individuals who have brought me years of great musical vocals?! Just because they're not Googleable?! I thought this was "Name 100 women" not "name 100 popular famous women" or whatever.

Fuck that.

Look I get it, you want to verify this shit; you don't want some guy going "uuuh martha, sandra, stacey, debra" whatever. I understand that, but also at what point does someone become a public figure?

Am I a public figure if you can look me up on google? Is that all it takes? My tumblr has a substantial following people know of me, do I count? (I guess not really since I'm NB and all but hopefully you see what I mean).

If I can list streamers, but not friends; does that mean my streamer friends don't count?

Fuck that.

How are we determining what "Googleable" means? Is it just front page? Is it just googling their name? What?

I could find more information for half the people on my list by looking through odd subreddits or deep-diving into tumblr posts, does that qualify?

You can't be like "lol men can't name 100 women" and then staple on 200 regulations.

I think it's totally fair to say things like, no repeats, no fictional women, no descriptions they need to be names.

Sure that's totally fine, that makes sense even. If I could repeat a woman 100 times that's not 100 women. If it's a fictional woman that's not a woman; if I could describe "the lady who ran the window at the Maccas" that's not NAMING a woman!

But I'm really hung up on this "no family, friends, etc." rule because it's bullshit. You can't ask me to name 100 women and then tell me I can't name any of the women I happen to know personally because you can't verify they're real.

Fuck that.

[ariel-s-awesome]

Dear Supporter,

I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔

I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊

Note: Verified by several people as 90-ghost and aces-and-angels. ☑

Take a good look at a prime example of a scam bot, people. Same format every time. Real people don't message random nobodies.

Assorted tips to spot scammers:

How old is their account? Most bots are only a few days old.

How were they able to find your blog? Are they an established member of any comnunities you share? Have you ever seen them in your notes aside from their ask?

If you’re not a fairly big name on Tumblr, or even in your social sphere: Why are they asking you to boost them? Why not ask more popular users? (Or their friends?)

Do they give you enough information to vertify your identity?

Get familiar with their patterns. All of these follow a rigid format with an opening, a few paragraphs, emojis scattered to assure you that they're real, and a closing. Most Tumblr users either write too casually for the structure or too formally to use emojis often. Their pinned post will follow a similiar pattern with photos scattered throughout. (Note: Reverse image search can no longer vertify that they're original pictures thanks to AI.)

See the other asks I got recently to learn their pattern. All of these came within 4 days. The last 3 came while editing this post. And please note that I am neither an active nor popular user.

Edit: Copying and pasting the examples because private links keep breaking.

Example 1

zainsami To all those with compassionate hearts,🇵🇸🍉 I reach out to you today in a moment of extreme need💔. My name is Sami, and I am the father of two young daughters. Since October 7th, we’ve been displaced by the devastating war in Gaza. Every day, we struggle to survive without enough food, water, or a safe place to stay. The danger around us is overwhelming, and we are in desperate need of help.🥀🤍 I humbly ask for your immediate support. Even the smallest donation can make a huge difference and could be the lifeline that saves us from this terrifying reality. I beg you to consider our situation and offer your help before it’s too late.🙏🙏 No contribution is too small; every bit of support can change our lives. Please, act now, because time is running out.❤️🖤🤍💚 With heartfelt gratitude, I thank you for any help you can offer.🥰💖 Donate link to us 🍉 https://gofund.me/107a832

Example 2

majedalgherbawi Dear Friends,I write to you with tears in my eyes and a heavy heart. After 188 days of displacement, constant fear, and struggling to survive, we managed to escape with our lives and reach Egypt. But the pain didn’t stop there. Just yesterday, we lost my children's grandfather 💔, not due to direct war, but because of malnutrition and the lack of basic life necessities. We couldn’t save him, just as we couldn’t save our home or our dreams. The rest of my family is still trapped in the war, suffering the same harsh conditions that led to the passing of my children's grandfather. We are here trying to build a new life, but we have lost everything. We lost our home, and my children were deprived of their schools and universities. Even my eldest son, who worked so hard to build his future, lost his job and saw his dreams shattered.😔 We are now in desperate need of your help. We seek to secure a safe home that will provide us and our children with basic needs. Life in Egypt is extremely difficult, and prices are soaring beyond our reach. All we ask for is a chance to rebuild our lives and secure a better future for our children.🙏🏼 From the depths of my heart, I ask you to stand by us in these difficult times. Your support means hope and life to us.🙌🏼🇵🇸 https://gofund.me/59e9578a

Example 3

mahmoidsy Hello My dearest friends,🌟 My name is Mahmoud Jihad, from Gaza. My home, my university, everything has been destroyed. I now live in a flimsy tent with my family after losing everything. I was studying Information Technology while caring for my family, and now we have nothing. 😔 We are living amidst indescribable destruction and desperately need your help to survive. 😭 Even a small donation can make a huge difference. Every contribution is a spark of hope in the darkness of this war. ✨ My campaign is verified by: @/beesandwatermelons ✅ #190 and @/gazavetters ✅ #63. My GoFundMe link: https://gofund.me/463cbf01 Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Let's rebuild our lives together. 🙏❤️

Example 4

eman-zaqout Dear Supporter, I hope this message finds you and your family in good health. My name is Eman Zaqout from Gaza. I am reaching you out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraiser. I lost both my home and my job due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are facing catastrophic living conditions. 💔 I kindly ask you to visit my campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom. 🙏🕊 Note: Verified by several people as @/90-ghost and @/aces-and-angels. ☑

Example 5

hayanahed Hi, I hope you're doing well. I'm writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help. My family is in a very danger situation due to the ongoing war, and I've launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them. Could you please reblog my campaign post from my profile? Each share could be a lifeline for my family. 🙏 Feel free to share it in any other social media platform if you would like. Our campaign has been verified ⭐️ by operation olive branch, and is entry number 26 on their spreadsheet. Also with ⭐️ Project watermelon,line 249/(212) on their spreadsheet. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you in advance for all of your support and kindness.

Example 6

eunice-2 Hi, I hope you are doing well.🌹 Can you help by sharing my story, reblog, and donating if you can, to keep hope alive for me, I'm type 1 diabetes. I am calling on your humanity and kindness to help me raise $340. This amount will enable the approval of an insulin pump that will help me better control my diabetes. Although I am happy that I have been approved the hardest part is the money to pay for the pump and equipment, please your contribution is important. Be blessed ♥️

Assorted tips to spot scammers:

How old is their account? Most bots are only a few days old.

How were they able to find your blog? Are they an established member of any comnunities you share? Have you ever seen them in your notes aside from their ask?

If you’re not a fairly big name on Tumblr, or even in your social sphere: Why are they asking you to boost them? Why not ask more popular users? (Or their friends?)

Do they give you enough information to vertify your identity?

Get familiar with their patterns. All of these follow a rigid format with an opening, a few paragraphs, emojis scattered to assure you that they're real, and a closing. Most Tumblr users either write too casually for the structure or too formally to use emojis often. Their pinned post will follow a similiar pattern with photos scattered throughout. (Note: Reverse image search can no longer vertify that they're original pictures thanks to AI.)

If you're running a vetting blog: Please open your askbox or provide another method of direct communication so people can privately warn you about scammers.

Edit: I have been informed of the exisiting GoFundMe drama. Sorry about the racist people but wow. Please do more research into scams.

[tittyinfinity]

A couple of days ago when I had to pay back a friend, they said that facebook pay was the best way to get the money to them since their cashapp was having issues.

So I went to send it over messenger and it did something it had never done before, which was ask for my legal name, my birthday, and my social security number. It said it wanted to "make sure my payments were in compliance with federal regulations."

Which means they're looking for sex work and drug deals. Facebook has the ability to send your data to the police/government. They're already starting the process of making sure everyone on the website has their real identification attached to it.

But this is dangerous for me in a completely different way – I'm on disability, and if any math doesn't add up correctly with my transactions I could lose some if not all of my monthly payments. Thankfully, most of my transactions are through cashapp, but if the money I borrowed and the donations I received were reported as income, I could be sued for fraud, despite only needing the money for regular necessities like bills and household items.

I messaged them and told them "I'm so sorry, I know this is an emergency but I absolutely cannot send the money like this. I'm going to have to drive the money to you, but it will be a couple of bucks short because I have to get cash back."

I eventually ended up being able to send it to their mom's paypal instead.

But yeah, if fb asks for your personal information like this, DON'T DO IT. Not only for yourself, but because it could put your friends in danger, too. Even if my legal name isn't attached to everything yet, if one if my friends is legally verified, they could quickly find out my identity from their information.

My fb is already deactivated, so I'll be getting rid of messenger now. I highly suggest y'all get rid of your Facebook accounts too

[somedaylazysomeday]

Oaths - Part One

Javier Peña x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

You are a nurse to the Escobar family. When you decide you can't stand by and watch the carnage any longer, you choose to give information to the American DEA. You don't care for the agent assigned to your case...

*This is not related to my previous Javier Peña x fem!reader fic! I realized that one has a terribly OOC Peña and I wanted to start fresh. I still think the other one is cute though, so I'm leaving it up.

Rating: mature, lemon, etc. Mind the tags. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: some mentions of medical work, mentions of drug trafficking, mistaken identity, mentions of prostitution, grinding, fingering, piv sex, and references to canon-typical violence.

Next | Masterlist

---

This was a stupid idea. 

It was something you needed to do, but that didn’t make it any smarter.

But at least the American DEA seemed to be taking things seriously. They had taken your offer of information over the phone, created an extensive file on you, and set you up to meet with one of their agents. You had wanted to pass along the information over the phone, but that was apparently against some kind of policy. You had to meet with an agent in person.

Fortunately, the DEA seemed to understand the risks in what you were offering. They had provided you with a hotel room, given you a false name to check in under, and given you the name of the agent who was to meet you. That agent - Peña was his name - called you from the phone in the lobby. He set up a complicated pattern he would use to knock on the door of your room. When you answered, he would give his last name again, along with a code word.

All of that went smoothly - impressive in its own right. When Agent Peña stepped into the small but well-appointed hotel room, he asked you to verify your middle name and birthday, then went about searching the room for signs of surveillance.

When he was finally satisfied, Peña turned to face you where you were sitting comfortably on the bed. “You have some information for me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I have the address of one of Pablo Escobar’s safehouses.”

You held out a slip of paper, but he made no move to take it. Instead, a crooked smile sprouted on his handsome face. “My usual type, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked politely.

“The guys at work said you were exactly the type of informant I typically work with,” he explained, though it didn’t truly answer any of your questions. His dark eyes studied your face before traveling a leisurely route down your body, lingering on a few key areas that made you straighten up with irritation. “What do you normally charge per hour? I can probably match it. The DEA is willing to pay for information about Escobar. And if I’m a little over, we’ll think of a way to settle the difference.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked again, this time significantly less politely. “What exactly am I charging hourly for?”

Peña’s brows furrowed for a moment before he froze, a look of terror and regret crossing his face. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“No, say it,” you requested, suddenly exhausted. 

“I thought you were a prostitute.”

You nodded slowly, the anger leaking from you like water from a cracked cup. At least he had admitted it. That was more than you had expected. “That’s what I thought you meant. I’m not a prostitute.”

“I realize that now.” Peña had taken a sudden, intense interest in the curtains. You couldn’t really blame him. There was really no tactful way to recover after first having assumed someone was a prostitute and then openly propositioning them. Unexpectedly, he seemed to rally after a moment. “What do you do for a living, then?”

“Is that important?”

He shrugged. “The information is in your file, but it would make the process of writing my receipts a lot faster.”

That at least made sense, even if you didn’t particularly like it. “I’m a nurse.”

Peña grimaced. “The last time I ran into a nurse with ties to Escobar, things got… complicated.” You waited for more of an explanation, but he only shook himself. “Why does a nurse have information about Escobar’s safe houses?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

You sighed. “Fine. When I first started at the hospital where I currently work, I met Pablo Escobar. He was there for the birth of his daughter. I didn’t know who he was at the time. I saw a man who looked moments from passing out and asked if he was okay. He told me he was fine, but I brought him a drink and something to eat. I ended up assisting in Tata’s room later and held their daughter. Now Pablo considers me one of the few people he can trust for the medical treatment of his family. I’ve been their private physician ever since.”

“You’re a nurse, though,” Peña pointed out.

“I do realize that,” you responded dryly. “But I know a little bit about several fields and can usually diagnose or treat minor things. If there’s something I can’t handle, I can suggest the right type of physician for them to bring in.”

Peña didn’t look satisfied with your explanation. “Being an informant is a dangerous thing, especially since Escobar would view this as a personal betrayal if he found out.”

“I know.” Your voice was quiet, but firm. “But this is the right thing to do. I knew I had to do something. I can’t stay quiet and watch him slowly destroy this city.”

A quiet scoff from across the room made you glance up. Peña was shaking his head. Anger snapped in your stomach, sharpening your voice. 

“I’m not stupid, Agent Peña. I’m giving you the name and location of a property I was brought to several months ago. The Escobars recently hosted a gathering there. Plenty of people can be tied back to this information, but I will be far down the list. Now…”

You held the paper out to him once more, silently urging him to take the information before you changed your mind. Not about giving the information, of course. Any moral struggle you had undergone was concluded long before you called the DEA. But the longer you spoke with Peña, the more tempted you were to ask for any other agent.

Fortunately, Peña seemed to understand your wordless demand and took the slip of paper from you. The angle was awkward, leaving his warm fingers brushing your arm, and the unexpected touch made you shiver.

That made you pause, seizing the time Peña took to study the neat writing on the paper and tuck it into his wallet. He was a handsome man, even if his personality left much to be desired. He was healthy and strong, and when he wasn’t talking, you could almost imagine testing those soft lips with your own. He was confident, self-assured as he paced around the hotel room. This was a man with whom Pablo Escobar had declared an all-out war, and yet he didn’t seem troubled. Perhaps that was more stupidity than bravery, but you were willing to believe it was more the latter than the former.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” he asked, snapping you out of your charitable reverie as he turned to level a suspicious glance in your direction. “We pay our informants, but the money isn’t great. Especially compared to what Escobar probably pays.”

“I’m not doing it for the money,” you told him, stung by the accusation. “I- I just want to stop seeing Medellín subjected to this violence. The city - and the people - are being torn apart.”

 Peña squinted at you. “I can’t get you a passport.”

You laughed. The sound was far too abrupt in the tenseness of the room, but this at least made sense to you. Most of the DEA’s informants must have been asking for far more than a small reward for their information. “I don’t need one. I’m a Mexican citizen and I can leave when I want.”

“Why would a Mexican citizen help the American DEA?”

You had expected the suspicion in his voice - hell, you almost understood it - but you still bristled at the implication. “Your media has reported that Escobar’s cocaine travels through Mexico to reach the United States. Do you really think it does not impact every area it passes through? Mexico is harmed by Escobar as well.”

The agent relaxed slightly, but he shook his head. “What are you doing here in Colombia, then? No one is here if they don’t have to be.”

“I have to be,” you replied with a wry smile. “I heard on the news that Medellín needed medical staff, especially nurses. I came to help. When I saw the violence and trauma… I knew I had to stay.”

Peña was silent for long enough that you fell into a sort of trance brought on by the quiet room, interrupted only by the occasional sound of another guest passing by the door. You couldn’t say why you hadn’t tried to leave yet. You had delivered the promised information and risked a lot to do so. There was nothing keeping you there.

Just when you were ready to stand and leave the room, Peña began walking slowly toward your place on the bed, looking thoughtful. “If you can get out of Colombia whenever you want… there are some other opportunities here.”

Opportunities didn’t sound like something you should be interested in, and your sense of foreboding was justified when Peña came a little closer. “Being treated for anything can be dangerous. There is always a chance that something can go wrong.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, frowning at him. 

The agent shrugged. “I’m saying, one mislabeled medication, one injection with the wrong concentration…”

“No.”

Peña sat on the bed beside you, crowding you and even going as far as pulling your hand to cradle between both of his own.. “My partner’s wife is a nurse. I know how easily things can happen.”

“I swore to never do harm to a patient,” you argued, tugging ineffectively at your hand. “Don’t ask me to break my oaths. I don’t like what Escobar is doing, but I don’t even know you.”

“That will change,” he assured you, one side of his mouth quirking up as your fingers twitched in his grasp. “With a connection to Escobar like the one you’ve got, you and I will be working together a lot.”

“Thrilling,” you said dryly. 

Peña traced a fingertip down the center of your palm and you gasped, pulling at your hand again. This time, he let go. “Hey, if you don’t want to work with me, I’ve already come up with two ways to end the whole thing now.”

“I won’t do it and frankly, it’s offensive that you’re still asking.” You shook your head, standing up. “This whole thing may have been a mistake. Enjoy your information. I’ll have to consider whether I can give you any more.”

You ignored Agent Peña’s urging to wait, walking toward the door until you found your path blocked by the agent himself. When you tried to step around him, his large hand wrapped gently around your wrist. “You can’t leave yet. We have to stay in this room for a while longer. About another hour.”

“Why?” you demanded, pulse suddenly picking up. “Are we being watched?”

Peña rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not in the way you mean.”

“In what way then?”

“There are DEA agents stationed around the building. If anyone associated with Escobar even looks in this direction, they’ll call me on that phone.” Peña jerked his thumb in the direction of the room’s phone, sitting silently on the bedside table. “If that happens, I’ll get you out of here the back way.”

“I’m glad the DEA takes such good care of its informants,” you mused, pulling away from him. “I’ll assume it was a hard-learned lesson.”

From the flex in the muscles of Peña’s jaw, your guess had been a direct hit. Still, he pressed, “You can’t leave yet.”

“Yes, I remember. Another hour.” You sighed, smoothing your blouse as you crossed the room once more. You didn’t sit on the bed, instead opting for the small table tucked neatly into a corner.

Agent Peña joined you, his hand brushing over the small of your back as he passed you to take the seat opposite the one you were about to settle into. When you were both seated and watching each other, Peña leaned forward to break the silence.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here? You got a boyfriend you didn’t list in your interview?”

You blinked at the suddenness of the personal question. “I had to fill out an extensive file before the DEA would even consider accepting my information. You know I’m single, but you didn’t know I’m not a prostitute? Why did the DEA want a file if no one is going to read it?”

“Ease down, hermosa,” he told you, gesturing as if you were a spooked horse. “I didn’t read your file. I doubt anyone did other than my supervisor. All I knew was your name and where I could find you. My coworkers were the ones who said you were my usual kind of informant.”

“You have terrible coworkers,” you informed him. 

He gave you a sheepish grin that somehow made you doubt its sincerity. “That may have been an honest mistake. My usual informants are prostitutes, but the United States government isn’t happy paying them off. I usually list them as nurses in my receipts.”

You frowned. “I know you think that made you sound better, but it really didn’t.”

“It’s a compliment,” he said. “Lots of pretty women in both fields.”

“There are male nurses.”

“There are male prostitutes, too. Not my thing, but I know there’s a market.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to volunteer any more information to the handsome agent than was necessary, but you hoped to end the conversation. “I am single.”

“I figured as much.”

You couldn’t fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Yes, you’ve proven you have a keen understanding of human behavior.”

Peña’s mouth twitched. “I do, actually. If I had taken another minute or two, I would have been able to tell that you weren’t a prostitute.”

“Is that so?” you challenged. You weren’t overly offended by his incorrect initial assumption of your occupation, but listening to him backpedal was entertaining. “How would you have guessed?”

“First, it wouldn’t have been a guess. It would be my keen understanding of human behavior,” Peña reminded you. He leaned forward a moment later, pinning you with the intensity of his dark eyes. “Second, a prostitute wouldn’t react the way you do when I touch you. Not unless she was the most expensive prostitute in Medellín.”

Your heartbeat picked up pace, but you did your best to feign disinterest as you asked, “And how exactly do I react when you touch me?”

“That’s the point - that you do react.” He leaned back, a smirk playing across those full lips. “You shiver when I touch your arm, your heart pounds when I hold your hand. I thought you would hurt something with the way you tensed when I put my hand on your back.”

“Maybe I just hate you.” It wasn’t true, but you fervently hoped he believed it.

Peña dashed those hopes an instant later when he smirked at you. “If you did, you wouldn’t be staring at my mouth.”

Damn. And you thought your admiration had been subtle.

“So not only did I know you weren’t a prostitute,” Peña summarized, looking amazingly self-satisfied, “but I could also tell that you’re single. Unless your boyfriend wasn’t treating you right. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied automatically.

Peña’s smirk only widened. “I hear that too much of that can give you carpal tunnel.”

You gaped at his crassness. For your entire acquaintance, Peña had been vacillating between attractive and irritating. At the moment, he was definitely falling closer to irritating. “This conversation is ridiculous.”

“Okay, but you’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you,” he pointed out. “And we’re stuck in a hotel room for the next hour.”

The man had gone from asking if you were a prostitute to propositioning you, all in the span of a few minutes. You couldn’t keep up. “Peña…”

“I’m clean. Just got tested last week.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice. All of it is your choice. Give us more intel, don’t. Sleep with me, don’t. But personally, I think you could stand to loosen up. At least this way, you don’t have to worry about finding someone, seeing if they’re interested, and trying to avoid a relationship.”

“Why would I avoid a relationship?” you asked before you could think better of it.

Peña gave you a disparaging look. “You’re a personal doctor for Pablo Escobar’s family and you’re giving intel about him to the DEA. I’ll keep it under wraps, but you know the risks. I don’t think you’re too concerned with starting something serious right now. You’ve got enough serious going on.”

He wasn’t wrong. About any of it, if you were being honest. Your job kept you busy, and moonlighting for the Escobar family made things even more difficult. Pablo was pushing you to leave the hospital and work for him full-time, traveling with his family and their sicarios. You couldn’t do that, but the conflicting responsibilities were backing you into a particularly dangerous corner.

And as for being attracted to Peña, you could freely admit that was true. You had found him magnetic since he had stepped into the hotel room, despite the fact that he was an asshole and regularly slept with prostitutes. There were so many reasons you should turn him down and watch television until you were free to leave. Hell, you saw and treated enough STDs at the hospital to know the risks of sleeping with someone you barely knew. But he had said he was clean and… you believed him. You weren’t sure why, but you did.

Peña had been watching as you struggled with your own motivations, and you finally met his gaze. You frowned. “I don’t like you.”

“You don’t really need to,” he countered.

It was an excellent point. “Do you have a condom?”

“Always.” 

“Fine.”

Peña barked out a short laugh as you stood and turned back to the bed. He stopped laughing as you lifted your shirt off over your head and deposited it in a nearby chair. His eyes were dark as he watched you slip off your shoes and reach for your bra. 

You lifted a brow. “Keep up, Peña. We only have an hour.”

You had never seen a man so eager to obey an order. Peña fumbled for a moment as he pulled a condom from his wallet, but the moment he had it free, he set to work removing his clothes. 

When you had finished draping your clothing onto the chair, Peña’s eyes locked on your bare form. “On the bed, hermosa. I’ll be there in a second.”

He was trying to do what you had done: drape his outfit somewhere so it wouldn’t be wrinkled when you got dressed once more. But with the way he haphazardly tossed his shirt and pants onto the table, you knew it wouldn’t do much good. 

Peña turned back as you were crawling to the center of the bed and he let out a deep groan. When he joined you, lying on his side to mirror you, his hard length bobbed between his legs. 

He was larger than you had expected. You had a moment to wonder if you would regret agreeing to this deal before Peña gently grasped your chin, pulling your face to break the staring contest. “Don’t worry about that for right now. I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Please,” you said, noting the pleasure that bloomed in his eyes when you did. 

You were almost more nervous about this kiss than anything that would follow. Peña’s lips had captivated you with their plushness and you would hate for them to be a disappointment. You shouldn’t have worried - your breath caught in the moment before your lips touched and Peña hummed softly as if to encourage you, his hand settling solidly into the curve of your waist.

The kiss was tentative at first, but settled into something languid as you began exploring each other. Peña seemed infinitely patient, but your temperature was soaring until it felt like you were burning with the need for more. You nipped at his bottom lip and deepened the kiss until it was something messy and heated. Peña’s thumb stroked gently over your side before he began to move lower.

That was fine with you. In fact, you felt encouraged to continue your own explorations. You let your hands travel across Peña’s back and deliberately downward until you could squeeze the firmness of his ass. 

He made a surprised noise and you swallowed it with a laugh. Peña’s lips tightened with his own smile, but he soon took revenge as his fingertips brushed between your legs. You groaned, bracing your foot against the bed to push your knees further apart. That gave him the space he needed to toy with your clit, fingers exploring your folds.

Everything seemed to shift a moment later as Peña pushed you onto your back and leaned over you. Your lips - having separated from his to avoid chipping a tooth or something equally mood-ruining - parted around a silent gasp as he sank a finger into you.

You managed to keep from making any noise… until he started to thrust that finger inside of you. “Peña,” you said, hating how much it sounded like a whimper.

“Shh, baby,” he soothed. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You probably would have objected to that if he hadn’t pushed another finger into you. Instead, you gasped out his name again, lifting your hips as if to encourage him. Instead, all you did was crush his forearm where it was resting on your lower stomach - and brush against his cock where it was pressed between you. 

Peña’s entire body jolted away from you at the touch. The sole exception were his hips, which pushed toward you as if begging to keep in contact with the softness of your skin. How could you ignore such a plea? 

You reached between you, finding Peña’s length first with your fingertips, and then wrapping your entire hand around him. He hissed out something that could have been a curse or your name or a prayer. All you knew was that you liked the sound of it, and you stroked the velvety skin in hopes of pulling the noise from him again.

Above you, Peña bared his teeth, fingers working faster inside of you. Somehow, this had turned into a battle of wills and it was clear that you were losing. The tension became overwhelming as your stomach tightened and your body started to contract around his fingers in long, lazy waves.

When you were slack beneath him, Peña pulled his hand away from you and relaxed slightly. His mouth returned to yours, lips gentle despite the insistent hardness you could feel prodding at your hip. By the time you had caught your breath, Peña had stoked your body back to a fever pitch of wet wanting and you were struggling to keep from wriggling against the pillows. Then his tongue slid along yours and you lost that particular battle. 

“I guess that means you’re ready to keep going, then,” Peña said, lips quirking. “Normally, I like to do a little more for my partners…”

The way he trailed off, glancing meaning toward your core with his lips pursed, made his meaning clear, but you shook your head. “We’re short on time. I remember.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, moving away for a moment. For a strange moment, you thought he was getting out of bed, but you soon realized he had retrieved the condom from the bedside table and was rolling it over his length.

As Peña settled his hips between your thighs, you took a brief moment to check in with yourself. Was this still something you wanted? To sleep with a man you didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t like?

Peña glanced down at you, lifting his eyebrows to check that you were still interested. Maybe he was an asshole, but you wanted him badly. For once, you were going to forget about your plans and responsibilities. You could do something for yourself. More specifically, you could do Peña.

You nodded and Peña recaptured your lips as his hips surged forward. It was a good thing he had kept your mouth busy, because something between a gasp and a wail fought its way out of you. His fingers had been a lot, but they had been nothing compared to Peña’s full length. You felt stretched, invaded. He pushed himself in shallow thrusts, working his way deeper inside of you until your hips were flush. 

It wasn’t clear who broke the kiss first, because you both seemed to need a moment.

You were panting, eyes closed as you tried to reconcile yourself with the stretch of having Peña buried to the root in your channel. Maybe it wouldn’t have been quite so intense if it hadn’t been so long since you had slept with anyone. Or maybe it was just him.

For his part, Peña had his forehead pressed against yours. You didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed since yours were squeezed shut, but he was definitely talking. Assuming you could call it talking. He seemed to be repeating variations of, “Shit. Shit. You’re so tight. Not gonna- Not gonna last long. Shit. You’re so- you’re perfect. Feels so good. So tight. Shit.” 

By the time he had been through this litany a few times, your body had started to change its mind about how Peña felt inside of you. Your channel had adjusted, your walls stretching until you didn’t feel like you were going to split in two. In fact, you were having the opposite problem now: the weight of Peña on top of you, the feeling of him inside… you needed more.

“Peña,” you muttered, frowning. You still weren’t willing to open your eyes, so you couldn’t tell if he could hear you over the sound of his own desperation. “Peña.”

The frantic tumble of words paused. “Yeah?”

“I really need you to start moving,” you told him. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re still really-”

He was going to say ‘tight’, you could tell, but you squeezed your internal muscles around him, letting out a little sigh at the feeling. Peña’s hips stabbed forward automatically, seeming to move on pure instinct. 

“You’re really ready?”

“I said I was.”

“Then open your eyes.”

You responded to the challenge, cracking your lids open to peer up at him. He was studying your face intently, though you didn’t know exactly what he was searching for. 

The silence stretched until your inner muscles spasmed around him and your lids fluttered. “Are you going to move now, or do I have to do something drastic?”

“Much as I’d like to see that,” he started, withdrawing from you with a deliciously thick pull, “I’ll start moving.”

And then he did, plunging himself back into you with a strength and sharpness that drove the air from your lungs, forcing a small cry along with it. He paused, eyebrows raised and you panted. “Keep going.”

Peña took you at your word, settling into a driving rhythm that left you jolting and scrabbling at the sheets. Your hips lifted and fell with him, participating as smoothly as if it was a choreographed dance. And maybe it was, in a way. Humanity’s oldest dance. And you reluctantly admitted that Peña was one of the best dance partners you’d ever had.

He seemed intuitive, somehow. You had known him for such an incredibly short span of time, but he was listening to your body and responding accordingly. 

When your thighs started to cramp, he reached down to wrap your legs around his waist instead. 

When you had worked your way too far up the bed and your head was in danger of hitting the headboard, he wrapped you in strong arms and pulled you more tightly against himself. 

And when you were gliding tantalizingly close to the orgasm you could feel shining on the horizon, his head dipped down and captured one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and nibbling and laving it with his tongue until you were pushed over the edge.

You said something as you came, you were sure of it. Maybe it was his name, but you didn’t know for sure. The roaring of your blood in your ears was too loud to hear past.

The feeling of Peña pistoning inside of you drew out your orgasm so long that you were left utterly spent at the end of it. Your eyes were closed once more, your mouth slack as you tried to regain your ability to think.

Above you, Peña’s breathing had changed to something harsh and desperate. He was still fucking into you, but his rhythm was beginning to stutter. As he moved, he hit something inside of you that sent an aftershock ricocheting through your spent body, tightening your tired muscles. You moaned, hands coming up to brace yourself on Peña’s shoulders. 

Something in the moment must have pushed Peña over the edge. He buried himself in your center, shudders racing over his body until he slumped heavily on top of you. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

You were torn as higher thought returned to you. You liked a bit of closeness after sex, you always had. But you didn’t know Peña that well. More importantly, he was heavy. 

Fortunately, he solved the puzzle himself, rolling off of you but not so far that you weren’t touching anymore. You caught your breath in shared silence, but Peña broke it before it could grow uncomfortable.

“That was almost perfect on time,” he said, glancing at the clock on the beside table. 

It was a good way to get yourselves moving again, you had to admit. It wasn’t overly harsh, but it reminded you both that there was a clear line here. You weren’t dating, weren’t friends, weren’t anything. You were essentially strangers, ones who had decided to scratch a biological itch together.

You rolled toward the edge of the bed. “Guess I’d better clean up and get dressed, then.”

Peña started to say something behind you, but cut himself off before you could even guess what it would be. Instead, you heard him shifting against the sheets and assumed he was removing the condom.

Since you were already in the bathroom by that point, you offered the small trashcan around the corner so he could dispose of it without any more fuss than necessary. There was a pause before the bit of latex hit the can, but not a long one. You wet a washcloth to give yourself a businesslike swipe between the legs, cleaning up the majority of the evidence of how you had spent your time in the hotel room.

When you walked back into the main room, Peña had started to get dressed, his clothing already slightly wrinkled from the way it had been bunched on the table. Your own clothing was fine, and you had put yourself back together in only minutes. Your hair was slightly worse for wear, but nothing too noticeable. If anyone asked, you could tell them you had been trying not to pull it out during your interactions with Peña. You got the sense he was known for being frustrating - even in government agencies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘Peña’ during sex before,” he commented casually.

You paused, thinking that over. It sounded bad, but… “I only know you as Peña. No one, including you, ever told me your first name.”

He shook his head wryly. “It’s Javier.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Javier,” you said.

“You-” Peña cut himself off, clearing his throat. “You can call me Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeated softly. 

His gaze grew intense once more, but the phone rang.

In a moment, Peña had pushed you further into the room, maneuvering you until you were around a corner from the door. He stood shielding you from the window with his body. “Get down while I answer that.”

How a sniper or anyone else was going to attack you through a closed door or a window with the heavy curtains drawn was beyond you, but you did as Peña ordered.

The phone call was short and in English. You couldn’t tell if either of those were a good sign or a bad one. When he put the phone back on its hook, he nodded at you. “They’re ready for us to go. You’ll leave first and then I’ll follow. We’ll be in contact if we need anything else from you. And if you find out any more information you want to share, you know how to contact us.”

You nodded, heart beating faster for some inexplicable reason. 

Peña opened the drawer below the telephone, retrieving the small notepad and pen he found there. He scrawled something on a piece of paper, then tore it out and handed it to you. “And here is how you can contact me directly. The first one is for my work phone and the second is my home phone. If you don’t get an answer at work, call my home phone. If I don’t answer that, leave a message. Do not say your name, just tell me when you’ll call back. I’ll know it’s you.”

You nodded again, this time a little too fast and shaky. It was a lot of information and, even as you were struggling to absorb all of it, you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. You were in danger. You would continue to be in danger for the rest of your life, as long as Pablo Escobar lived.

“Hey,” Peña said lowly, drawing your attention back to him. “Be careful. You may know Escobar, but you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

No matter how soothing you found his confidence, Peña’s tone of superiority irked you. You snatched the piece of paper from his hand, folding it with motions made jerky with irritation. “I do know. I know better than anyone.”

Peña scoffed. “You’re a nurse. I get called to look at the bodies of anyone who may have been killed by Escobar or his sicarios.”

“I may not be DEA, agente, but I live in Colombia. I see bodies almost every day. Maybe not as many as you do, but you see the ones Escobar killed. I see the ones he hurt. The ones who have to live with what he did to them, have to live with it every day. And I honestly don’t know which is worse.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and Peña tracked the motion. “Let’s try not to figure it out. We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“Worry about yourself, Peña,” you countered, not unkindly. “You’re in just as much danger as I am, if not more.”

With that, you left the hotel room. When you had gone in, you were a nurse and an unwilling staff member of Pablo Escobar. When you left, you were an informant to the United States DEA. Your life had irrevocably changed, but it had been the right call. You were sure of it.

---

Author's Note - I tried, but I couldn't find any information about travel between Colombia and Mexico for Mexican citizens during the majority of Escobar's exploits. I'm not really sure if the reader could leave as easily as she claims she could. Just stating that outright in case anyone had some different information!

Thanks for reading! I'll be back with the second chapter tomorrow!

[shahronak47]

Australia transit visa pain

Me and my wife were planning to travel to New Zealand (NZ). While checking the flights, we noticed that most of the flights were 1 stop flight with a layover in Australia. The direct flights were very expensive. So we chose 1 stop flight to NZ. That was a simple and innocent decision without thinking much since we have travelled many number of times with 1 stop flight. I have also travelled once with 2 stop-flights when travelling to Africa.

However, what we didn't know at that time was Australia requires transit visa even if you are catching a flight from the same airport. This was something new to us and never heard of. Why would you require a visa if you are not even leaving an airport?

I was pretty much annoyed already by the visa process for NZ. It required too many documents to complete the process. Additionally, no help on the website in terms of customer support if you are confused on a field and don't know what to enter. The only good thing was the entire process was online, so I can crib and cuss while filling the application at home. Somehow with the help of some googling , I was able to submit the visa application for both myself and my wife. Then the NZ embassy took more than 2 months to process our application. Simply, no update from their side on our application. I had to call couple of times to their embassy in NZ to get more information. However, they didn't have any specific answer/timeframe for me. All they said was we have too many applications and you will receive an answer soon. What do you mean by soon? No one knows. After 2 months finally we got the visa and started planning our trip.

So now for Australia as well, we need a transit visa and the process started again. The transit visa is free but you still need to complete all the formalities. Created an immi account and filled 12(!!!) pages of information. Gave them all the details about where I am from, my DOB, my address, phone number , where I am going to, where I am coming from, a guarantee that I will leave the airport within 72 hours etc. I had already started regretting my decision to travel through Australia but I don't even know what other option I had if I chose not to travel through this Australia. Finally, I finished my form and I got 2 automated email from Australian embassy. First one, was to acknowledge the receipt of the transit visa application and second one was to provide biometric details of myself.

They needed my fingerprints since I have an Indian passport and I am not travelling from India. I need to go to VFS to submit this and it was not free. VFS charged 118 RM to process each application. Just adding more fuel to my anger. Also, nowhere on the website or email from Australian embassy it is mentioned to go to VFS. They just say to go to your nearest Australian Biometric Collection Centre. We need to google that or find out what that means and that's how I ended up with VFS.

VFS has their own process of taking an appointment. Both me and my wife went on the designated date and have our biometrics and verified our identity. After 2 days my wife got an email asking for more documents. She uploaded them and her visa was approved. As far as I am concerned, I got an email rejecting my transit visa application because my documents were not complete (similar to my wife). We both filled the same application but I guess depending on the person who handles the application they have the power to either reject or ask for more details in the application. Lack of consistency I would say.

The annoyance doesn't end here still. I fill out a fresh new application and like a robot I get another 2 emails again. One for the acknowledgement and another one asking for my biometrics and asking me to go to VFS AGAINNNN!!!!

I so want to cancel my booking to NZ right now because even though NZ has allowed me to enter their country, people in Sydney don't think I'm a genuine tourist. Paid 118 RM again, went to VFS and completed my biometrics. In the meantime, I emailed the Australian embassy along with VFS about my situation and asked them to reuse the same biometric from my last application. VFS raised their hand saying we cannot do anything if the embassy has asked you to give the biometric whereas on the other hand Australian embassy never replied.

The people at VFS were very surprised that I came back again in few days and they could see my records in their system. I told them about my rejection and they took extra care while filling my application. The issue was not their end as I knew which document I had forgotten to upload from my wife's application. Anyway, the approval came instantly on the same day after that.

Well, as they say all's well that ends well. It did cost me some money, a lot of time to fill out the application form (twice), some trouble to go to VFS on working day and give my biometrics (twice) and some mental peace but hey on the bright side I can now stay in the Sydney airport for as long as 72 hours.

[mogai-headcanons]

[if alt text is not accessible for you, every image in this post is a thin teal line divider.]

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my requests are currently open for stuff from my whitelist and here is every request currently in my inbox. my queue currently posts 1 time daily at noon cst.

here's a quick list of frequently asked questions — i recommend you look through this before asking me a question, since i get a lot of asks and may ignore yours if it's answered here!

q: what program do you use to make your edits and how? a: i use gimp on desktop! here's a basic flag splicing tutorial for multi-flag icons and a video of my edit-making process (though it's only the main gimp screen, not the menus i'm using)

q: what's your header/icon? a: my header is a compilation of edits from over the course of my blog and my icon is sunburst from 'my little pony: friendship is magic' over the excemelle flag!

q: are you alright with requests involving [insert media]? a: if it's not in my general rules linked above, probably yes! if you're concerned for a specific reason (source content, shitty creator, etc.) please let me know in your ask; i don't know what's problematic about every piece of media!

q: how many characters can i send in one request? how many terms? a: as many as you want, within reason! i’ve currently managed to fit 95 characters into one post and 245 flags into one icon, and though i do like a challenge, i’d prefer that no individual icon in a request have more than 200ish flags and that you stick to 50ish characters! those are flexible numbers though.

q: i don't see my request in the inbox! can i resend it? a: yes! just resend it and let me know that you sent it previously while requests were open.

q: i forgot something in my request, want to add extra details, want to change certain details, or want to remove certain details! a: send me an ask letting me know what request is yours and what you want changed and i'll do that!

q: can you tag [insert thing]? a: yes, i'll try my hardest to remember?

q: can i use one of your edits somewhere? a: yes, and i would strongly prefer if you credit me somewhere if you do.

q: are you alright with spam likes/reblogs? a: yes, and i appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

q: [insert headcanon] that you posted goes against a canon identity! a: thank you for letting me know! i don’t want to post things that erase already existing representation. i may ask for sources to verify if i can’t find some on my own.

q: [insert headcanon] goes against [insert thing in your rules]! a: again, thank you for letting me know! i don’t always know the sources i get requests for and tend to assume that people won’t send in things that go against the rules, so i don’t usually check.

q: can i submit art for you to use for [source without canon art]? a: yes! i’m happy to use your own art or art from an artist who is alright with their work being used with credit (including picrews). a2: this also applies to the adventure zone (since i only don’t do requests for it due to problematic canon art), aus (such as homestuck bloodswaps, etc), and similar situations!

q: [insert nice thing] a: i cherish you so much and your ask probably will sit in my inbox forever along with all the other incredibly sweet asks i've received over the course of this blog!

q: [discourse] a: please Do Not.