#so if i try to go back past the immigration I need to find translated sources

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Is refreshing my Spanish more useful in my day to day life? Yes. Do I end up doing that? No, because I’m a fucking idiot who can’t focus properly unless I’m into something. I keep saying “I’ve taken three Spanish classes through elementary and highschool. Re-learning it has to be easier than learning a whole new language!” and then when I open Duolingo I go like “ooh, Norwegian. I would love to be able to read that!” and take the Norwegian lessons instead 😑

[farfromstrange]

(Writing this both in English and German (under the cut) because I want everyone to understand what I have to say)

Now that the date for the new election in Germany is pretty much set, I want to appeal to every person eligible to vote in this election that if you are shaking your heads at what happened in the US this past week because ‘How could anyone possibly vote for this man again?’ you are going to do your research and use your voice in the upcoming election to make sure we don’t get a coalition led by right-wing extremists who only care about the rich, white population.

Vote against the AfD and the parties associated with them. Because it’s not just them; it is as much CDU/CSU & BSW as it is the AfD, and when a party like the FDP brings forward a candidate who has been fired from being finance minister because he sucks at being a team player, I’d consider carefully if you would possibly want that.

If these parties were to build a coalition—and according to recent polls AfD and CDU/CSU are up there—we would have a huge problem. For one, the AfD has been under investigation for right-wing extremism. They are a threat to our constitution. They openly degrade women, the LGBTQ+ community and immigrants. They would attack women’s rights to abortion, which would lead to more women dying as we can already see happening in America. They literally said that the solution to our declining birth rates is more women having babies. Just like Trump, they are against no-fault divorce. They would attack gay marriage and gender affirming care. They want Germany to become independent from the EU—the EU is part of why our economy hasn’t fully collapsed yet, mind you. ‘Immigrants are stealing our jobs’ is bullshit because they are doing the jobs you are too proud to do. Back in the day, the candidate proposed for chancellor by the CDU voted against the criminalization of rape in a marriage. And don’t even get me started on climate change because these people do not believe in it.

Do your research. Find out which parties have slowly shifted toward the right over the years, and vote the complete opposite. Because they say what you want them to say; what they actually want to do is written in terrifying detail on their websites. Actually read what they are offering. Read the fine print. Because these politics are aimed at the straight, white and mostly male population, and that would only benefit those who already have too much money and too much power—not you.

Spread the word. Try to educate your family. Your friends. Protest. Sign petitions. Do something in these few months we have before we have to fill out our ballots. There is no such thing as the perfect candidate, but I am begging you, please vote for a party who has a chance at getting over the 5% hurdle. We need a strong government if we want to stand strong against the right and if we want to make it through whatever Trump’s next 4 years will mean for the rest of the world.

And if anyone actually supports what these right-wing extremists and conservatives are doing, go to hell! You can’t claim ‘you didn’t know’ when they are being openly racist, sexist and anti-climate change. If you think for even one second they are a good option, you are part of the problem.

Take the energy you put into praying Kamala would win the US election and make sure we don’t get Trump 2.0 in this country; the situation is serious enough as is.

German translation:

Nachdem der Termin für die Neuwahlen so gut wie feststeht, möchte ich ein paar Worte sagen. And alle von euch da draußen die wählen können: wenn ihr angesichts der Ereignisse in den USA in der letzten Woche empört wart und euch gefragt hab wie das überhaupt sein kann dass Trump nochmal gewinnt, dann macht eure Recherche für die Bundestagswahlen und wählt nicht einfach blind drauf los. Ihr müsst eure Stimme bei einsetzen, um sicherzustellen, dass wir keine Koalition bekommen, die von Rechtsextremen geführt wird, denen nur die reiche, weiße Bevölkerung am Herzen liegt.

Stimmt gegen die AfD und die mit ihr verbundenen Parteien. Damit meine ich auch und vor allem die CDU/CSU. Von Lindner brauchen wir gar nicht erst zu sprechen. Wer als Finanzminister entlassen wird und generell keine gute Historie in der Politik hat sollte man nicht unbedingt als Bundeskanzler haben wollen, genauso wenig seine Partei.

Wenn diese Parteien eine Koalition bilden würden—und laut aktuellen Umfragen liegen AfD und CDU ziemlich weit vorne—hätten wir ein riesiges Problem. Gegen die AfD wird schon seit Gefühlen Ewigkeiten wegen Rechtsextremismus und Verfassungswidrigkeit ermittelt. Sie erniedrigen Frauen, die LGBTQ+-Community und Ausländer—das is so ihr ganzes Wahlprogramm. Sie würden unser Recht auf Abtreibung angreifen, was dazu führen würde, dass mehr Frauen sterben, wie wir es in Amerika bereits sehen können. Die AfD meint dass die Lösung für unsere sinkenden Geburtenraten darin besteht, dass mehr Frauen Kinder bekommen—und müssen. Genau wie Trump sind sie gegen no-fault divorce. Sie würden alle Rechte, die der LGBTQ+ community zusteht, angreifen. Sie wollen, dass Deutschland von der EU unabhängig wird; die EU ist einer der Gründe dafür, dass unsere Wirtschaft noch nicht völlig zusammengebrochen ist. Migranten machen die Jobs, die viele Deutsche gar nicht erst machen wollen weil sie sich zu Schade sind. Merz (CDU) stimmte damals gegen die Kriminalisierung von Vergewaltigung in der Ehe. Und an den Klimawandel glauben die alle schon mal gar nicht während Naturkatastrophen immer mehr zum Alltag werden.

Recherchiert. Findet heraus, welche Parteien im Laufe der Jahre langsam immer mehr nach rechts gerückt sind, und wählt das genaue Gegenteil. Reden sind eine Sache, aber was diese Parteien wirklich wollen steht im Wahlprogramm, und das ist das auf was man achten sollte. Lest das Kleingedruckte. Diese Art von Politik richtet sich an die heterosexuelle, weiße und überwiegend männliche Bevölkerung, und das käme nur denen zugute, die bereits zu viel Geld und zu viel Macht haben—nicht euch.

Appelliert an eure Familien. Unterschreibt Petitionen. Alles damit wir auch nach Februar nicht um unsere Rechte bangen müssen.

Die zu 100% perfekte Partei gibt es nicht, aber ich bitte euch: wählt eine Partei, die eine Chance hat, die 5 %-Hürde zu überwinden. Wir brauchen eine starke Regierung, wenn wir uns stark gegen die Rechten behaupten und alles überstehen wollen, was auch immer Trumps nächste vier Jahre für den Rest der Welt bedeuten.

Und wenn irgendjemand tatsächlich unterstützt, was diese Rechtsextremisten und Konservativen tun, ✨verpisst euch✨ ihr könnt nicht behaupten “Oh, das wussten wir nicht” wenn die AfD und Anhänger offen rassistisch, sexistisch und gegen den Klimawandel sind. Wenn ihr auch nur eine Sekunde lang denkt, dass die eine gute Option sind, seid ihr Teil des Problems.

Nehmt die Energie, die ihr in die Verfolgung der US-Wahlen und Kamala Harris gesteckt habt, und nutzt sie um sicher zu gehen dass wir nicht auch eine Trump-ähnliche Era durchleben müssen. Die Lage ist so schon ernst genug.

[variousqueerthings]

The Karate Kid/Cobra Kai Star Trek AU ideas...

@phantomcomet talked about a Star Trek AU and then I went too far in writing this post imagining some roles in Star Trek. I’ve stuck to the adults from TKK/CK and maaaainly envisioned characters through the lens of Starfleet (although not only). 

Anyway, here’s some thots! Any Star Trek/CK fans add more!

First things first: I did not think of a name for the starship Miyagi’s captaining, so I’m just calling it Miyagi’s ship for now. (The Bonsai doesn’t seem like a ship name really. The Crane Kick not so much either... The Cobra totally works though... anyway, someone have some ideas?)

Miyagi: Captain of the ship (later an admiral and then retires to take care of his bonsais). Obviously has a soft spot for Daniel, whom he probably spotted doing some whiz-kid stuff on a shitty, broken down civilian ship and took onboard. You know, you probably don’t even have to mess with his backstory that much to make it fit, he grew up on a planet on the outskirts of the Federation and saw some shit and is doing good, a la similar to Kirk’s backstory. He’s experienced abandonment from the Federation, so he may work within the system, but he’s fucking with it at every turn he gets and does what he thinks is right (a la Sisko. If Kirk and Sisko had a baby? Strange thoughts, but tell me I’m wrong).

Daniel: Engineer. Low key kind of a prodigy with engines. Engineers aren’t as often officer-class (unlike science/medicine and command, which I believe always are), so I can see Daniel coming into that from a less privileged space – definitely not the Academy – and initially butting heads with Johnny (as well as a bunch of others). He’s not head of engineering, but he works for the Lead Propulsion Engineer. Also he talks to the warpcore. You know he does. All the time.

Johnny: Security Babey! Also backstory is maybe he was trying to get into a command situation onboard a different ship led by Captain Kreese and he was the golden boy, but things went South when he was pushed to doing something he didn’t feel right about, so he was demoted for something bad that he’d done on Kreese’s orders and then couldn’t let go of. And he brings that baggage aboard Miyagi’s ship.

At this point people joke about Miyagi taking on lost causes and strays…. (but never to his face).

Ali: Doctor, of course! Did everything by the book and sometimes dreams that she’d let go of her parents expectations and could go out and do something outside of Starfleet. I feel like she might’ve studied with Johnny at the Academy and for a short while been onboard Miyagi’s ship with him and Daniel, but gotten transferred into a more specialised field at some point (chasing the dream).

Kumiko: Okay there’s three different things I see for her

1. Presumably this is a galaxy-class/exploration ship (similar to the Enterprise) and so civilians are also onboard. If Kumiko isn’t with Starfleet, maybe she was using it as transport as an incredibly famous dancer and there’s a whirlwind romance that can’t last vibe.

2. if Starfleet, definitely in Command somewhere. I kind of love her for a first pilot/flight pilot.

3. Command. Even if she’s not in Starfleet I can see her having command of her own ship: Quietly competent, but steely in conviction and capability, that’s her!

Kreese: Used to be a Captain, but quietly was ousted from Starfleet during an internal investigation that showed up a lot of problems during his command and even before that. Star Trek has depicted war, and bigotry, and I think Kreese would probably have some dirty laundry there (some of which hasn’t been uncovered). Still bitter about losing his command and losing Johnny and has some personal business with Miyagi that he puts on Daniel, like in the movies.

The OG Cobras: They were all on Kreese’s ship originally, but dispersed after the incident with Johnny. I wonder if only Bobby stayed on, studying intergalactic faiths and assisting in various first communications and interchanges.

Someone help me out with Jimmy, Tommy, and Dutch. Continue on in Starfleet, yay or nay?

Yukie: I caaannot see her as Starfleet. She obviously grew up with Miyagi on that planet and I feel like she’s heavily involved in the rebuilding efforts and has been her whole life. She’s traveled to earth multiple times to petition for relief efforts, and is incredibly anti-war – there’s a whole department dedicated to her work – wait is Yukie basically some hotshot activist who condemns Federation Neo!Colonialism… I feel like… that’s poetic… also you know where Kumiko gets her calm competence from!

Sato: I mean he’s some big-shot admiral while Miyagi’s still Captain and they have History! I think Sato bought into the Federation a lot more and is consistently angry at Miyagi’s choices and wants to initially trip him up, but he just can’t. And eventually they find themselves back home and patch things up – it’s the intergenerational environmental Trauma babey. You need to go back to the source to begin to heal.

Chozen: Speaking of intergenerational trauma… I mean, he’s gone through the Academy, he’s wound up as a combat pilot/second pilot on a great ship, (in this Sato isn’t captaining a ship, he’s risen in the ranks, but he’s pulling strings), he’s going through it. Unsure of what actually would happen, but I like him for combat pilot as a counterpoint to Kumiko’s flight pilot. Poetic.

Terry: OOOOKaaaay, who the heckening is Terry Silver in this? In canon I already HC him as almost a ghost, so how does that translate here? He’s an intergalactic crime boss, he’s got 50 different stories told about him (he’s an augment like Khan, he’s worked with Borg, he’s got contacts throughout the Federation, he came from the Gamma Quadrant) – only Kreese marginally knows him and knows he used to be an ensign, but before that… even he’s not sure…

Barnes & Snake: They work for Terry… do you think he’d do a longterm con of getting his own people into Starfleet through the Academy? I feel like he would. Officer Class, except Snake probably wound up in lowgrade security, I cannot see him having the brains to move that far up the ladder. I’m inventing a whole conspiracy now…. or maybe Terry hired Barnes after he got kicked out of the Academy, hmmm...

Jessica: I want her to be Science Class, so that’s what she is. Research and Development. Social sciences and Xeno-archaeology. She makes and collects gifted pots.

Carmen: She’s a nurse. I feel like she also came through in an unconventional way, possibly studying nursing in a civilian capacity and worked on civilian ships for a few years, using it as payment for traveling with her mom and her kid. Then, eventually, ends up on the same Starship as Johnny and Daniel and Co. (and now I kinda want to see her training under Ali, but in my head Ali left before Carmen entered the picture).

Rosa: I feel like the Diaz family didn’t grow up on earth – I’m aware that this puts people of colour mainly off-earth, but I’m thinking about Star Trek’s earth-metaphor as “paradise” (DS9) while it lets all the nasty stuff happen outside, which is… very similar to “first world/third world country” rhetoric + how in Karate Kid and Cobra Kai first Miyagi and then the Diaz family are immigrants. I think Rosa Diaz would get on with Miyagi – like a type of Guinan and Picard situation, where she’s definitely a civilian, but constantly ends up on conversation with the Captain and he’s not quite sure what exactly her history is. Also I’m imagining a lil toddler-Miguel on a big starship.

Amanda: Similar to Kumiko I can see Amanda in a lot of places – administrative? Officer class? Intelligence officer/analyst? Bridge crew? Captain-in-training? What are we thinking here? Also I wonder about her past, but that’s something I do in canon as well. I kind of like the idea that she’s worked incredibly hard for what she has, putting herself through the Academy, presenting the front of someone who grew up with giving parents on the “Paradise” of earth, but actually she didn’t…

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 1)

for @evnscvll​​‘s 3k celebration challenge, I immediately broke the rules and took only one prompt: Love, Actually.  then I made it into a series.  oops.  but she made me that lovely moodboard anyways!

summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention/description of infidelity, awkwardness, me teasing y’all by making this a slow burn

(quick note: I’m not fluent in romanian but I did my best to translate the dialogue as accurately as possible, rather than as literally as possible.  if you don’t speak it I would recommend not translating seb’s lines so you get the full experience of having no idea what he’s saying just like the reader in the story but I won’t tell you how to live your life)

You usually trusted your intuition, but up until now you'd convinced yourself that you were being paranoid by worrying about your husband.  Trusting him was more important than anything, and definitely more important than a strange feeling in your gut that something was wrong. 

The sad thing is, you would've never guessed that he was having an affair with your sister.  Not in a million years.  All the sneaking around, the strange stories that didn't add up… you would've put your money on a secret gambling addiction (pun unintended but welcome), or maybe that he'd secretly lost his job.

But even with all your suspicion, all your low self-esteem, all your fear that he was too good for you… nothing could've prepared you to walk in and see him with his face between your sister's legs.

He didn't even do that to you; he said he didn't like the taste.  You realized now, as you stared out the window of the train at the trees flying by, that that should've been a red flag from the start.  For a man who had claimed to be a feminist, things were never really equal in your house.  You both worked full time but you were saddled with more chores; you made more money than he did, but for some reason, you found yourself asking for his approval on large purchases; and of course, whenever you'd talked about children, he'd always just assumed you would stay at home forever and do most of the child-rearing.  He told you that you'd need to handle them when he was too tired from work-- but what about when you were tired from watching them all damn day while he was working?

God, you needed to stop thinking about this.  If you cried on this train people would probably look at you funny and you did not need that right now.  You couldn’t take any more reasons to believe people dislike you.  Even as much as you wanted to say that you didn't want or need your husband’s approval anymore, you still felt so shitty, so fundamentally worthless that he'd chosen your sister over you.  He hadn't wanted to touch you in months.  You wondered if it had been going on longer than that: when you'd blown him after that company party half a year ago, were you putting your mouth on something that had been in your sister's--?

"Something to drink, madam?" the attendant asked as she rolled by with her cart, pulling you from a very dangerous cycle of thought.

You jumped a little and looked over to her as she smiled at you-- no hint of judgment or confusion as you wiped a tear away.  In her shoes, you would be nosy and want to know more about the woman crying on the train.  Then again, maybe it was obvious to her: a woman, alone, who bought the last ticket just before the train left, carrying only a small briefcase and a few hastily-packed suitcases… a woman with nothing to lose, going nowhere as fast as possible.  Could it be anything but her having been done wrong by a man?

"Tea, please," you nodded with a smile of your own-- weaker than hers, more awkward.  You'd make a bad stewardess.

"Black or green?"

You didn't trust them to steep the green tea at the proper temperature, so you asked for black and nodded in thanks when she handed you the warm paper cup and rolled on by to the next passenger.

What really made your head spin, you considered as you sipped at your drink, was not your husband’s actions but your sister’s.  You remembered when you were both teenagers and her boyfriend had cheated on her, she’d gotten so upset with the girl he’d done it with rather than him.  You had thought that was ridiculous because the girl didn’t owe her anything.  You understood better now, and of course, your sister did owe you something.  You two had had your rough patches but overall, she’d been your best friend for most of your life.  So much so that she was the one you went to when you were worried about your husband.  She told you to give him space.  You would’ve never imagined that was her way to get you to back off, to cover her own sins and give her more freedom to shag your husband in your goddamn bed.

Yes, that was the real betrayal.  Lots of people have ex-husbands, but you couldn’t exactly turn her into an ex-sister.  You were stuck with her, but you had no plan as of yet to face her again.

The night in the sleeper car was restless, literally.  It was so dark out that you couldn’t see the trees or mountains anymore, but if you focused really hard and made sure to turn off every light in your room, you could just barely see the stars in the sky.  You hoped that you would have plenty of time to spend looking at the stars once you reached your destination.  As much as you’d loved the city lights of London for the past several years, you really needed to be somewhere that was actually dark at night.  And where the air was clean.  And, best of all, where nobody knew who the fuck you were.

You stepped out of the train and onto the platform, feeling very much like you were surrounded by people ending their stories-- reuniting with loved ones, finishing vacations-- while yours was just beginning.  Well, you supposed it made sense that most of the people travelling from London to Nyíregyháza, Hungary were probably from Nyíregyháza, Hungary.  Unlike you, who had only been here once while backpacking through the area in college and fallen in love with it.  You were lucky that the owner of the secluded cottage you’d crashed at back then had picked up the phone when you called from the train; you were especially lucky that she was willing to pick you up from the station, you not being quite dressed or prepared for backpacking.

Exiting the station and finding the cobblestone street, you were nearly tackled by a portly old woman as she tried to get your attention.

“Mrs. Alberti?!” you asked with wide eyes.

“You should at least pretend I haven’t aged a day,” she frowned, her words coated with her thick Hungarian accent.  

“I was just surprised that you’re still running the cottage!  I figured you and Mr. Alberti retired ages ago,” you explained, following her back to her car and putting your luggage in the boot.

She seemed a little crestfallen, wistfully considering your assumption.  “Well, it’s not quite what it used to be but yes, I am still the owner.  Sadly, Mr. Alberti passed away several years back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you replied, hoping to be as comforting as reasonably possible, “he was such a sweet man.”

“Yes, but he had a long illness-- and before that, lived a very full life,” she smiled confidently, walking to the driver’s seat as you followed along the other side and got in the passenger.

“It’s too bad he won’t get to see you again, though,” she continued as she started the vehicle.  Considering how old it looked, you were impressed that it worked on the first try.  “He would’ve been amazed to have a repeat customer from somewhere so far away.  I certainly am!”

“Yes, well, I have great memories from staying in the villa, and decided to go in search of some of the lust for life that I had back then-- chasing after youth never backfires, right?” you joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a smirk.

You knew you were getting close to the old house when the roads turned from asphalt, to cobblestone, to gravel, and finally to dirt.  As much as you figured trees and grass looked basically the same everywhere, you appreciated that it somehow managed to look totally different than England.  Maybe it was the scattering of blue wildflowers, or the way the wilderness was dominating the few signs of human existence rather than the other way around.  Driving it was different than hiking it, certainly, and you wondered if you would find the time or energy to climb the foothills on the other side of the lake like you had before.  Maybe you didn’t want to find out how much athletic ability you’d lost since college…

“Here we are!” she announced as she made one last turn and yep, there it was: a lonely stone cottage, with flowers all along the walls and pink wooden shutters.  

You could tell it had aged since it had looked how you remembered, but if anything it had gained a quaint charm, with its moss and ivy and old trees which sagged under their own weight.  Figuring you would have more time to take in the scenery in the indefinite time you planned to spend here, you decided to make good time and gather your things first.

As you opened the boot and reached in to grab your luggage, someone appeared beside you and pushed your hands aside, saying something that you couldn’t parse at all.  You stepped aside and realized that it was a young man-- not horrifically young or anything, but certainly… strapping.  He shot you a smile, and you couldn’t think of the last time somebody had looked at you with so much joy on their face.

“Oh, thank you,” you nodded, letting him lift your suitcases (which he did with ease, just to make it all extra cruel).

“This is Sebastian-- he lives here and does odd jobs for me,” Mrs. Alberti informed you, "Don't waste your time talking to him; he doesn't speak a word of English."

"Oh, he only speaks Hungarian?"  You turned to him again; "Szia, hogy vagy?"

He shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"No dear, he only speaks Romanian," Mrs. Alberti explained with a laugh.  "Can't you tell I can only afford to run this place by using cheap immigrant labour?"

"Salut," he greeted.  At least you could figure what that meant.  You chuckled uncomfortably and looked to the ground.  

You followed Sebastian and Mrs. Alberti into the house, admiring how little the interior decorations had changed-- it was all macrame and flowers in old-fashioned ceramic vases, with lots of oddball Hungarian trinkets to round it all out.  Perhaps the only thing you could notice that was different was new floorboards.

“You like the new floor?” Mrs. Alberti asked, as if she were reading your mind.  “Sebastian put that in for me.”

Sebastian seemed to perk up as he set your bags down briefly, clearly aware he was being talked about.  

“Remember?” Mrs. Alberti addressed him, motioning to the floor.  “You put in the new floor, huh?  Új emelet?”

You wondered why she’d seemed to laugh at you for trying to speak Hungarian to him, when she was doing the same thing.

“Da,” he smiled, pressing his shoe down onto the floor to apparently demonstrate the lack of creaking.  “Ți-am făcut un etaj nou.”

“Alright, go ahead and take her bags upstairs,” Mrs. Alberti instructed him, motioning to the luggage and then to the staircase.  He nodded and picked them up again, starting to walk across the room.  “He knows where your room is, just follow him,” she told you.  

The stairs, unlike the new floor, did creak, and you weren’t sure how far behind you were supposed to be on the staircase to avoid having his ass right at eye level.  You didn’t want to stare at it… but either the jeans were doing him a lot of favours, or Mrs. Alberti’s ‘odd jobs’ do a body good.  Maybe a little bit of both.

He used his back to push open the door to your room, setting your bags just inside before turning to leave again, like he thought it would be rude to step inside.

“Wait,” you requested, but he kept going-- probably the whole ‘not understanding English’ thing.  God, you were going to look so stupid at least a few more times trying to get through to this guy, you could sense it.  Forced to get his attention another way, you reached out and grabbed his arm; not hard, but it was definitely a slightly aggressive thing to do anyways.  It worked, though, and he turned around with an expectant look.  “Could you help me unload?” you asked, gesturing towards the bags.  

His brow knitted with confusion as he tilted his head.  You sighed, not sure exactly how to pantomime this.

“One of my bags,” you began, pointing to one of them, “is heavy--” a lifting motion-- “could you--” you pointed to him-- “unpack it?” 

That seemed to make more sense to him, and he stepped back into the room with you.  “Voi încerca,” he said, somewhat to himself, as you opened the suitcase.  Inside was your typewriter; he nodded with understanding and scooped it up.

“Unde?” he asked, and regardless of what it meant, you were going to show him where to put the typewriter anyways.  

“Just over there, the table by the window,” you pointed to it.  He nodded again and walked past you, setting it down, and even adjusting it a little to make sure it was centered.

“Thank you!” you piped up when he turned back to you.  And just like that, you were plunged back into awkward silence.  You pointed to him, and then the typewriter as you pantomimed typing.  “Can you type?”  He seemed to understand what you meant.

“Nu,” he shook his head, “când eram mic, trebuiau înregistrați anual.”

“...huh,” you mumbled, not sure what to do with that.   

“Plec acum,” he announced as he started to step past you again.

You cleared your throat and let him walk out the doorway.  “Right, um, have a good afternoon…”

He gave a little wave as he walked down the hall, and you sighed once he was out of sight and making his way down the creaking stairs.  You impressed yourself with your ability to embarrass yourself constantly, even with total strangers.  But, all that aside, you were finally ready to settle in and properly enjoy your change of scenery.

[amphxtrite]

In relation to the #StopAsianHate tag, it seems fitting to add this contribution since China has been doing a lot of horribly questionable things(to put it mildly), and this has led to a rise in anti-asian rhetoric, with extras on the anti-chinese rhetoric.

It has affected overseas Chinese-descendants and the Chinese diaspora around the world badly, since they had no hand in what China did, nor do they share the same sentiments of China, yet they still get harassed and targeted. Even to the point of cop agents admit to accusing a Canadian professor of Chinese descent of being a spy, Hongkongnese coworkers mistreating overseas Chinese not from China, and a British-born Asian man getting deported without question.

So in lieu of letting this storm rage over even more, the better option appears to be to address everyone's concerns and assumptions about people of Chinese descent who are citizens since birth in other countries and have never set foot in china before.

The main point is: NOT ALL CHINESE AROUND THE WORLD ARE WUMAO COMMUNISTS, NOT ALL CHINESE DESCENDANTS SHARE THE SAME SENTIMENTS AS CHINA OR DOING THINGS FOR CHINA. Got it?

Now, to move on to the other part of attacks on Chinese culture and shaming people just for being Chinese.

1.It is okay to be Chinese-born; there is nothing wrong that you happen to be a Chinese person. You deserve dignity, pursuit of happiness, liberty and respect, just like any other race of person, black, white, Jew, etc out there. You are a person too and don't let anyone treat you otherwise.

2.Chinese people are not "spawn of the bad" or "corrupted subhuman" or "tainted genome"; they are not inherently rotten just by being of Chinese descrnt. There is no proof of that, when you pick apart gene sequences from a Chinese descendant in the clinic, it's still very similar to any other person's dna. Just like every nationality, there's kind people and there's assholes. And just like most other countries, who also had monarchy inbreeding, illness, and radiation(did you know of the Radium Girls in the 1920s, or the very unsafe nuclear testing in the 50s to 90s? They even used to put Radium in wristwatches for citizens to glow in the dark so casually.), the Chinese are no different. Just like to bring up the good parts of others' history rather than focus on the bad so much like china.

3.Chinese history, philosophy and culture does not have all bad parts. Please read and analyze everything, good and bad parts, if you want to make a proper judgement. It is very shocking to hear everyone at this point, so comfortable with joking: "let's nuke the Chinese" or "hope we bomb china badly if there's a war" or "the British and Japanese were good to wipe out the Chinese first" so casually! It is not a fair sentiment nor anti-racist one. If it's wrong to say: "the native Americans should have gotten rid of the arriving pilgrims because they were gonna genocide them anyways so might as well" or "black people should be allowed to hurt white people now for all they've done" then statements of that nature against Chinese is also wrong.

And just like other nations who came before and around the same time, these other nations also had bad parts of their culture. No one seems to highlight how colonizers used to practice Safari Game Hunting in Africa for centuries which killed a lot of animals leaving endangered species, no one talks about the quack and irrational remedies doctors in medieval Ages used to do, how they used to mix arsenic in paint on toys in Victorian era, European wars against indigenous peoples, as much as they keep on bringing up Chinese history's weak points and irrationally using it as a weapon to hold against Chinese people irrelevant to the cause of their past generations for years. It is unfair to whitewash your history while scorning the Chinese people's past.

Some Chinese clothing is nice. Some Chinese food is delicious. Some Chinese architecture can be very beautiful. Some Chinese inventions are useful. Those are the good points of Chinese culture. Not everything is tainted.

4.Not all Chinese are ugly. Or yellow skinned. Or receded jawed. Some have hooded eyes, some have high cheekbones, bigger mouths, wonky noses naturally too. Please look at every Chinese person without plastic surgery and analyze the whole populations faces, before you pass a half-assed judgement of how "ugly" they are in general! Seriously, if not how can you make a proper judgement?

5.As for other Asians who are non-Chinese, please stop trying to compare your cultures against theirs, treat it like a contest and say which one is the 'better Asian' to the people of the Occident(white). It is not cool nor necessary. Just do your thing go brighten your own little corner and you'll be great. Not every wumao is stealing your culture all the time sometimes cultures and trads just overlap or happen to be similar or shared through separation and migration reasons. Yes, you are a different non-chinese Asian and unique, there's no need to make noise or insult Chinese people just to prove your point too.

6.Overseas Chinese had ancestors who suffered too hence their migration and diaspora. Read about the Nanking Massacre, their Opium Addiction, 731 labs, Mao's rule, and other conditions. A lot didn't migrate for fun and games.

This is not dedicated to defending China's misdeeds or the Wumao, this is dedicated to the OVERSEAS people of Chinese descent, the Southeast Asian Chinese, the Chinese diaspora in the west, and anyone who didn't ask to be born with Chinese genes or ancestry but got it anyway: it's not your fault. Don't let yourself be shamed for being born this way, even when it's 'cool' to make fun of Chinese, and find a little pride in yourself. Take care and look out for yourself. There may be 1.4 billion mainland Chinese(even with the birth control policies), but there are many more overseas Chinese who need to be understood as "overseas people of Chinese descent" and respected as such.

For those who are non-chinese reading this, please think carefully anytime you want to post something, is it attacking only the current leaders in china or also targeting Chinese people or overseas Chinese-descent peoples too, before you become the very bigot you hate against a group of people or do a hate crime you might regret. Take a moment, and calm down.

Whoever needs to see this, glad you seen it, even if you need it translated. If you can tag it that would be helpful as well.

this right here 👏👏👏

i hope everyone remembers that it’s not all chinese people who are supporting the unjust things the government is doing. China in general is a very patriotic country and so when given the choice to believe something bad is happening or believing what they have been taught their entire lives (china is great and the best country in the world) they are going side with the statement that has been drilled into their heads since they were children. Chinese people aren’t ignorant they really just don’t know, every news outlet and media platform they use backs up the point that China is the best and they know if they step one toe out of line China is very powerful.

This is the government and the people of power’s doing and it doesn’t matter what the people think. The people either don’t know or don’t understand and it’s fry oho we many people repeatedly blame China as a whole for just a small part of it’s country’s doing.

What’s going on there is absolutely a violation of basic human rights and terrible but please take a moment to remember half the people don’t even know what is happening outside or inside their country because of how controlling everything is there.

Next, because everything there is decided by the government chinese immigrants have NO control over what happens there heck the people in china barely do. So the hate crimes in the west make no. fucking. sense. You’re not going to reach china by attacking u.a or canadian citizens you’re just adding to unnecessary violence. Elderly people, adults and children of north american citizenship are assaulted, harassed and bullied for somethings they cannot control and it’s terrifying how normalized the hate has become.

To all the chinese people seeing this stay strong, there’s no reason to be ashamed of where you or your family is from or how you look.

This anon put it best 🤍🤍

[acreativeme]

Little Dove

Little Dove

Clinton Skye x Reader

A/N: I don’t know Russian, so I am using google translate. I apologize for any mistakes. Also, there is some triggers in here about kidnapping, sexual assault, and sex trafficking. 

She left a note, along with her phone and her engagement ring.

Clinton,

I’m sorry, but I couldn’t say goodbye in person. I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye and lie to you. I will be gone for a while, so I am not asking you to wait for me. I can’t tell you anything yet, but I will try when I get back. I love you with everything in me. 

Y/N

 Clinton sunk down the wall, his heart breaking as he reread her letter. They had been together for a few years, only recently getting engaged. It took him a few minutes, but he called Jess for support.

...2 Months later…

With the help of her driver, Y/N stepped out of the town car-- the slips of her black bodycon gown showing off her muscular legs. Her hair was held back with silver dagger-like sticks, making it easy for her to hide weapons on her person. A bald man in a tight black suit held out his arm for her to take, escorting her into the ball room.

“Добрый вечер, мэм. Аукцион начнется через тридцать минут.”(Good Evening, Ma’am. The auction will begin in thirty minutes.) He said in a low tone. 

Y/N nodded, “Спасибо.” (Thank you.)

He let her go as they walked through the doorway of the ballroom. She walked up to the bar, ordering a gin and tonic. As she took a little sip, she scanned the room--picking out her targets in the crowd. A Russian human trafficker had kidnapped four undercover CIA agents, so Y/N was here to get them back and take out the traffickers.

She downed her drink, passing it off to a waiter as they walked passed by. She quickly reapplied her lipstick before heading towards her first target. He was standing off to the side, watching the crowd. Y/N acted as if she hadn’t noticed him standing there, to get him to make the first move. 

She watched him scan her from head to toe, smirking as he turned to fully look at her. “Вам нравится то, что вы видите?” (Do you like what you see?) She smirked, still facing away from him.

He smirked, “даже очень.” (Very much so). 

Y/N boldly took his hand, leading him to a door that was off to the side of the ballroom. She knew from studying the floor plans that there was a small coat room that was not being used. With her in front, she was not aware that he had pulled something out of his pocket. As he closed the door, Y/N reached for the dagger that she had strapped to her upper thigh. He wrapped one arm around her from behind, using the other to inject her with a sedative. 

“Goodnight, маленький голубь.’( Goodnight, little dove.) 

...6 months later…

Clinton’s POV

Clinton leaned against the counter, staring off into space-- which is something he’s been doing alot. His thoughts have been shifting towards Y/N, the ex that went missing. Everyone keeps asking how he knew she was missing and hadn’t just left him, and he’d always respond with that he felt it in his soul. He knew with his whole heart that she wouldn’t have left without a good reason. 

Jess stepped into the office with a grave look out his face. “Pictures of missing 16 year old, Irene Romanov, were found on sex trafficking website run by Russian Immigrant Dimitri Petrov.” He signaled Hana to pull up the website. “Many of the girls have been identified as missing in both the US and around Europe…” Jess froze as his eyes locked on one of the girls.

“Y/N…” Clinton whispered as he also locked onto her posting.

Y/N was laying on her back, hair dyed blonde. Her eyes were dull like life had been drained from them. She was in a matching pair of red and white lingerie with white fishnet stockings. There were bruises on her neck, arms, and inner thighs. 

“What the fuck did they do to her?” Kenny stated, anger evident in his voice. 

Hana clicked on the profile. “They say her name is Alyona. She is a ‘submissive and experienced’ lover.” She gagged at the end, as the team turned to look at Clinton. 

His face was unreadable. “I told you.” was all he said as he stormed out of the room.

Y/N’s POV

She looked around the bare room that Dimitri had shoved her into, trying to figure a way out. She had been traded to Dimitri by the man that kidnapped her, who then moved her to America--not realizing that this was her home turf. She observed him as he moved around the warehouse that he turned into a brothel, noticing that he would leave doors open as he rotated girls in and out of the ‘business’ bedrooms. 

Dimitri had a schedule for each girl, like this was some union job, and would rotate out the women after their shift. Y/N, however, was the only girl that he didn’t do that with. He would send in John after John, only giving her small intervals of time to recoup between dates. The only other thing he did different from the other girls was that he didn’t drug her. The man that sold her to him had mentioned that she was a submissive bitch and that he recommends not ‘damaging good goods’ with drugs. 

Dimitri seemed to idolize the man that kidnapped her, so he listened to him about the drugs. Dimitri uses violence to keep her in line, especially when she acts out around the other girls. He would use her as an example to keep the other girls in line, which she would gladly continue to do if it meant she could protect the other girls. 

The only time that Y/N gets to spend time with the other girls is when they shower, as Dimitri forces them to shower together in a prison-like shower area. She will check on them as they pass along the cheap hygiene products, which makes them consider her a guardian angel. There have been multiple times where he has come in to find her holding one of the other girls, which makes him rip the other girl out of her arms and back hand her. 

“Are you ready for your next customer, Alyona? Heard he’s a dark one.” Dimitri stood over her with a dark grin. 

She internally sighed, not wanting to show her true emotions. “Yes, master.” She replied meekly. She moved to be sitting on the edge of the bed with her knees together but feet apart. 

He leaned out the doorway to signal for the customer to come. “You may enter, Sir. Your entertainment for the evening is ready.”

Y/N had to hold back a gasp as Clinton Skye walked through the door. “Good evening, sir. Thank you for accepting me as your entertainment.” She recited, just as she had been instructed. 

Clinton nodded, trying to school his face. “She’ll do just fine.”

Dimitri nodded, shutting the door as he walked out of the room. Clinton and Y/N stared at each other, not knowing what to say to each other. After a moment, Y/N launched herself into his arms. She sobbed into his arms as he held her tightly to his chest.

He let her bury herself into his chest. “Shhh. I got you, love.” He whispered into her hair. 

She pulled away to look at him. “I messed up, Clinton. I lied to you about my past and my relationship with the agency.  I took a mission that I knew was going to go wrong.”

“Don’t think about it now. We’ve got to focus on getting you and other girls out of here.”  He whispered darkly, shooting the door a hard look. “We’ve got a team surrounding the building and snipers on the surrounding buildings.”

Y/N took a deep breath, hardening herself. “You are right.” She brushed the tears away, “did you bring in any weapons?” 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to get involved. You’ve been through enough, let me take care of you.” He looked at her with big eyes, wanting her to listen to him.

She sighed, knowing that she was not in any shape to take down these criminals. “Okay, we will do it your way.” 

Clinton kissed her forehead. “It’s a go!” he whispered into his mic. 

Clinton made sure to put himself between Y/N and the door. He knew that Dimitri was going to try and come after Y/N, having heard some henchman talking about how she was going to be their golden goose. He promised himself, after seeing her picture on that website, that would protect her with his last breath. He also promised not to tell her, because she would lecture him about how she can protect herself. 

Within moments of the team storming the castle, Dimitri was throwing open the door- half expecting them to be in the middle of having sex. He froze as Clinton aimed his gun at his forehead. “Freeze.” 

“You’re a cop!” He yelled, charging at them.

Clinton fired his weapon, only after aiming for Dimitri’s knee. Dimitri fell forward with a scream. “I told you to freeze.” 

Kenny came in shortly after the gunshot, gun raised and ready. “Clinton, you guys okay?”

Clinton nodded, “Yeah, the idiot moved when I told him to freeze. I’m going to let you cuff him, while I take Y/N to the ambulance.”

Dimitri looked up, confused on who Y/N was. “Whose Y/N?”

She finally stepped from behind Clinton. “Me. My name is not Alyona.” She walked forward, trying not to show that she was scared. “You are not only going to be charged for crimes at a national level, but an international level also.”

Dimitri smeared at her, laughing under his breath. “You went from cop to whore. What an upgrade.”

Without thinking, Y/N slugged him. Clinton and Kenny jumped into action, and pulled them apart. “At least I won’t be someone’s bitch in prison.”

Clinton pulled her out of the room, not wanting to subject her to that creeps presents. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

Y/N just nodded, becoming increasingly more hollow the farther away they got from her room.

... At the hospital…

Y/N’s POV

Y/N numbly as the SANE nurses poked, prodded, and took photos of her. She didn’t make a sound, no matter how much they made her uncomfortable. They hadn’t allowed Clinton into the exam room as they weren’t married. When they asked her to lay on the table, Y/N closed her eyes tightly-- trying to not picture the numerous men that had taken advantage of her. 

“This may feel a little bit uncomfortable, but we need to do a pelvic exam.” The nurse said, wanting to keep her clued into everything that was going on.

“I know.” She whispered, laying back and spreading her legs.

Everything goes black for the remainder of the exam, not that Y/N needed to pay too much attention. When she opened her eyes, Clinton was standing next to her-- talking with a doctor. 

“... she is going to need a lot of therapy and patience. We are going to prescribe anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, and sleeping medications as she is going to have some trauma from what she experienced.” The doctor explained, not even bothering to look at her.

“You know, if you are going to talk about me, you better man up and look at me.” Y/N stated, hoarsely. “I will not be treated like I am less than human, because I am a sexual assault victim.”

Clinton squeezed her hand, wanting to bring her comfort. “Y/N, he is just trying to help you heal.”

She rolled her eyes, reverting back to silence. The doctor shared a look with Clinton, before stepping out of the room. “I know that you’ve been through a lot, but you don’t need to be snippy with the doctor.”

She glared at him. “He was acting cold, not caring about my feelings. I have feelings, Clinton. I am not just some piece of meat.” She cried.

Clinton pulled her into his arms. “I know, sweetie.” He rubbed her head. “You’ve been through something horrific, it is going to take some time to properly heal.”

She looked up at him with big eyes. “I don’t want to do this alone.” She whimpered.

“You won’t be alone, love. I promise.” 

A/N: There will not be a part two. I don’t feel comfortable writing a 2nd part.

[danieyells]

Yo Danie, I wonder if you've got any ideas on this; in TAS, transients either get summoned to Tokyo because the app reaches out and makes pacts on people's behalfs with willing familiars, or they get summoned by having, like, a wish of some kind and they end up stumbling through a portal to Tokyo to see that wish fulfilled, right? And then they either get unsummoned, or stick around for whatever reason?

Here's the thing; when they get unsummoned, do they go home? The Red Oni in chapter 1 seems pretty convinced that he's going to die unless you make a Summoning pact with him, but Salomon says later that Shiro's familiar whose connection you cut will just end up going home. Further to that, Macan says about Oniwaka when he's vanishing into light that he's going back to his home world, and then when his strength recovers he'll pop right back in.

The thing is though, that there's a remark early on that Stray Transients, who are Transients without a Summoning bond by the game's definition if I'm remembering right, can only maintain themselves for a while by sustaining themselves on the land's energy. Even further, the actual Housamo wiki says that they'll be unsummoned from the game if they don't find a way to sustain themselves, usually by getting into a pact. Guilds I believe are also noted to be one way around this. Does that mean that if you just wait outside of a Pact, you'll go home? Or would you pop back in again after a bit, essentially trapped in Tokyo?

ALSO ALSO, Bathym says that, though this only applies to "his hella demonic self", demons need tons of emotional energy directed at them to survive, and a pact is the most efficient way to get energy.

But we don't see Sitri in a Guild or a Pact (unless you Pact him, but I'm pretty sure that's non-canon), and Sitri also has a family. They're all demons one would presume, so why does he not seem to need anything like Bathym does? We can derive from this that Bathym was either speaking about himself, and only himself, lying to try and get the Protagonist to make a pact with him, or that Sitri has a Pact he isn't chatting to anybody about, right?

HOWEVER. In chapter 4, we see that the Aoyama guild provides supplies for the enormous number of Stray Transients who have nothing and no prospects, but that those strays are unlikely to be guild members. Further to that, she mentions that the ninjas and many other strays are like, literally treated as the dregs of society. So, how come they're still around? Surely the Stray Transient population should be either dwindling all the time, or in constant flux? But I'm pretty sure there's a notable overpopulation issue in canon because of the sheer number of Transients! Not to mention, if they're treated like dirt and killed and traded, you'd think they'd just...WANT to leave, right? So they could just wait until their connection ran out.

AND ALSO, it's noted in the backstory that Transients started pouring through the gates one day in history, and that this generation has never lived in a Tokyo without walls, but the previous generation therefore presumably did; that means like, it's been at least 2 decades, possibly 3. How long could those Transients have stuck around without a pact going by the lore?

Lastly, the Protagonist has the power to rend Transients connections to Tokyo, canonically. How then, do those Transients come back if they've had their connection severed? And shouldn't the Protagonist offer to go to the slums and ask if anybody would like to go back to their homeworld if that were the case? Or will everyone literally just rebound to Tokyo completely?

Further to that, when people fulfil their wish, do they go home? When they've played their Role out completely, is that the end of their tenure in Tokyo?

Basically, I think the whole system is a little underexplained and I've seen you post thoughts here on stuff, so I was wondering as to what you'd make of it all! Am I missing something?

. . .holy shit anon this is an essay innit lol not that i'm complaining, I just was not expecting it when I saw the notification after I woke up. For the record I saw this at. . .7am or so. It is now 11:55 when I'm finishing it. HYPERFOCUS GO BRRRRRRRRR. OKAY LET'S SEE IF I'VE GOT SOME THOUGHTS FOR YOU.

DISCLAIMER: I'VE BEEN PLAYING THIS GAME FOR LITTLE OVER A MONTH AND I FEEL LIKE I HAVE FAR FROM ALL OF THE DETAILS. I haven't read three of the translated past events yet and I haven't read most of the untranslated content(including Chapter 11 although I'm super tempted you don't even know.) These are just my understandings of things, I suppose.

ALSO IDK HOW FAR YOU ARE IN THE STORY. . .I mean you mention them being sold so you're probably up to Chapter 10 at least since that's where we learn about Daikoku selling transients because it gets him off I guess, although they also could have mentioned it some other time and I just forgot lol BUT. YEAH PROBABLY GONNA MENTION SPOILERS.

TL;DR:

Red Oni: summoned to Tokyo without a pact. When rended from the land would disappear, possibly die. Likely this is because of whatever conditions are happening where they came from or having had already been dead when summoned. Possibly also just a false belief because they didn't know well what was going on to begin with. Possibly also just part of the game plan originally but retconned by the devs then never rewritten.

D-Evils: Shiro's Rule is Ressurection which causes an exception when clashing with Rending. The world of the Old Ones is gone, the D-Evils are familiars created by/living in Shiro's book. Entities, abilities, and artifacts from Old Ones are able to be used outside of the app/battle zones, so D-Evils can exist if Shiro just summons them. D-Evils don't go away when rended because they're part of Old Ones and Old Ones is gone--if they go away they return to Shiro's artifact where they came from. They also donct go away because rending them causes an Exception.

Oniwaka; Zabaniyya; Ophion: rended from EXCEPTIONS not from the world. Were likely sent back in order to resolve the exception after being rended and to recover the energy that sustained their physical forms in the first place, not because they had no means of being sustained in Tokyo. Returned due to pacts with MC, positions in Guild, unfulfilled pact, etc once their energy to maintain physical form returned.

Stray Transients: likely have outstanding pacts and thus do not disappear over time. However, some don't and those proper strays will likely return home after an amount of time, but we don't know how long. Alp has been in Tokyo for a few months but isn't disappearing despite arriving because he wanted to be loved/popular. So unattached transients stay around longer than a few months. They may also be attached to the school they were initially meant to go to to be monitored, or someone who works there. They may not want to go home due to poor conditions, being dead, lacking a home or people to return to, etc. Remember, even in real life people immigrate to places that treat them poorly--but that's because even that and the potential in those places is likely better to them than whatever they're running away from. If the transient arrived in distress it's because they wanted to be away from wherever they started out or because they desperately needed something. This new opportunity may be what they need--to find someone they lost, to find an answer, to simply start life over fresh. Even if they're being abused, looked down on, they may simply be happy to be alive. If they want to go home, they hopefully just have to wait--but you have to live if you wanna get home, don't you? Best to survive as well as you can.

Stray Transient Population: constantly increasing to sustain/grow the Game for the World Representatives. The overpopulation is deliberate. They do not care about the wellbeing of these people, they only want to create a stadium to fight in, and for that they need more transients and app users than humans not using the app in Tokyo.

Sitri: Aside from forming a pact with him, Sitri's Sacred Artifact is his wings/are his feathers, which cause people to fall in love with someone who touched them after the feathers that had been touched are attached to a second party. Sitri feeds off of the love directed to him. This is troublesome for him more often than not, but I'm pretty sure that's how he gets the emotions he needs to eat if not via pact.

Being around from the start?: The gates appeared in 1999--it's been at least 20 years, assuming the game takes place anywhere near the present year. Off the top of my head we don't know if any stray transients have stuck around for extended periods. How long someone's been in Tokyo rarely comes up. We know Yule has been in Tokyo for a few years because he went to middle(elementary? Idr) school with Ryota. Sitri is similar with Kengo. As such, given Sitri and Yule aren't in guilds as far as we're aware, assuming being attached to a school doesn't make one connected to Tokyo, we can assume they're stray transients. This means that they'd been here for years, as strays. Given we know stray transients disappear eventually, it's safe to assume that there have been stray transients who disappeared and went home. Assuming it isn't different per individual, stray transients can stay in Tokyo for several months to several years, but to my awareness there's no set number.

Going Home: in order to go home a transient who's been summoned must fulfil their summoner/pacted humancs desire. Surtr, Azathoth, and Babalon all disappear after fulfilling Arc's desire for them to be their family, leaving behind their sacred artifacts which contain their memories until they disappeared. So, yes, fulfilling the desire entrusted to a transient/playing out their role will cause them to fulfil the conditions of their pact, causing them to disappear. However, we don't know what happens when they do. Thus far, those three haven't come back despite the reset occurring. Arc was able to summon their artifacts but otherwise could not reach them. Their artifacts were taken by Breke who was able to channel the memories within and allow Arc to communicate with Azathoth's memories.

SLIGHTLY MORE FULL VERSION WITH A COUPLE SCREENSHOTS

(read the tl;dr anyway because I probably remembered things while Inwas writing it that I didn't remember to put in the 'full' version lol I WROTE MOST OF THE LONG ONE, WROTE OUT THE TL;DR, THEN FINISHED THE LONG ONE SO. PROBABLY WANNA READ BOTH.)

Transients arrive in Tokyo either by being summoned, by being summoned ACCIDENTALLY(someone wishes to have friends/meet someone new, etc), by being pulled in by the Rainbow Of Transient Light randomly(?) sucking them up when they're in distress/have a wish to fulfil, or some combination of those.

In Macan's character quest, MC and Macan learn that the one who technically summoned Macan was MC. The same thing happens in I think Xolotl's. They end up going to the collided past--or a collided memory?--and when past!Macan is in distress over being alone, MC approaches him and says they're there for him, however past!Macan can only hear them, not see them. He calms down and asks if they're searching for him and says he's going to find them--which causes him to disappear and be summoned to Tokyo in search of this person who wanted to be by his side. Macan realizes that's exactly what happened to him--he heard a voice saying that they were with him and, in his desire to no longer be alone, the transient light came along and took him.

(it's written as 'Magan' in Japanese hence why it's written that way here--this was likely translated before his English name was given.) (Such a request, perhaps, means that he's with MC until he's dismissed by them specifically.)

Xolotl was running from being sacrificed to Tezcatlipoca and MC and future!Xolotl protected him. Seeing himself be weak and seeing himself be strong enough to try and protect MC and seeing MC who refused to leave him and hearing what they had to say, he desired the strength to live with the people he loves and for there to not be sacrifices again. He may not have gone to Tokyo if he hadn't realized that desire through meeting himself and MC. In fact, he may not have survived at all(though maybe Quetzalcoatl would've protected him if not collided MC and present!Xolotl.)

SO. If you recall correctly, MC is implied to be a transient as well. There's also the possibility that they're not, and simply are some poor sob the Game shoved 23+ memories in at once, broke the memories of the host in the proccess, and thus we have MC coming to in a park confused about everything but their own name(of course if that were the case surely someone in Tokyo would recognize them beyond their being the trophy/exile from their home world, so it's not likely.) Lil Salomon says that as a summoned transient they can only go home if they find and fulfil the wishes of their summoner. However they neither know who or where their summoner is.

Transients can appear simply due to someone's desire for companionship. But they don't necessarily appear atop that person, hence not knowing their summoner. They just hear a voice, may not even hear exactly what's being said or asked for, and the light picks them up and drops them off with no further info or ceremony. So if someone is pulled into Tokyo this way they have a summoner even if they don't know it--even if the summoner themself doesn't know. So they won't just disappear over time unless that person unwills what willed them there or they die or something. Plus we don't know how long stray transients stick around if they have no pact/summoner--we just know that they disappear eventually. It's more than a few months, because Alp showed up a few months ago and hasn't disappeared yet.

Several characters are attached to guilds which may keep them from being Strays. However some, to our awareness, have neither summoner/master nor guild. At most they may be attached to schools. Sitri, as you mentioned, is one of them, as is Yule--whom Shiro refers to as a stray transient he sees every year without being corrected(although the situation wasn't exactly a good time to clarify that lol.)

Both of them have been in Tokyo for years without disappearing--and the app is a kind of but not super recent creation, so guilds likely didn't sustain them this whole time. Neither have disappeared. Of course someone may have summoned them or they may be part of guilds without it being stated or perhaps being in a school has the same effect as being in a guild. But we don't know that for sure, either.

(Japanese middle school is from 12-15 years old. Kengo's a second year High School student now, so 16-17 years old. Sitri was a first year while Kengo was a third year, so there's two grades between them. Sitri's been in Tokyo at least 2 years. I believe he mentions seeing Lucifuge in a magazine in Ghenna so he hasn't been here his whole life either. So a few years, but not 15.)

Transients that disappear don't have pacts but transients that come back probably do/have formed pacts/attachments to the world. Remember, Oniwaka, Zabaniyya, and Ophion say to call on them if you need them. They're attached to the player now, perhaps having formed a pact incidentally, assuming the situation that brought them there in the first place isn't still in effect(or they're not still bound by, say, their guild.)

Also, much like in real life, sometimes whatever is home is worse than the horrific things you deal with wherever you immigrate to. Or perhaps you've formed attachments somewhere you've arrived and are willing to endure suffering for them. It's rarely as simple as "we're suffering, we wanna go back to where we came from." Especially since transients likely arrived due to distress or wanting to be anywhere else but home. Some of their worlds don't exist anymore(Old Ones) or are collapsing(Yggdrasil; El Dorado.) Some people have no one and nothing back home and this is a new start for them, even if the start is bad. Also they could be waiting until they go home automatically, but what're you gonna do while you wait? Probably live your life as best you can. If you're gojna be stuck somewherefor a few months you may as well make yourself at home.

So why doesn't MC go around rending people themself?

Well, for starters, they're made to be a high school student most of the day. Where would they find the time lol. Second they're a bit busy trying to save the world and all. . .and if some teenager wandered up to you and said they could get you home if you had an app battle with them, would you really believe that when you've been told your best bet is to either find your summoner or wait out your incidental connection to the world? Sounds like a kid trying to stir up trouble, and not all transients have the app anyway. I mean really would you expect the local homeless population to have smartphones? Probably not.

Furthermore. Spoiler alert

This system of the game, the gates, the transients, it's no accident. It's intentional. Tokyo is the setting for this inter-world competition to prove which world is strongest or something to that effect--and the winner gets MC, the host of the exiles and perhaps some kind of powerful system. Of course what they do with MC is up to them. The Warmongers want to keep the game going so they can fight the powerful MV over and over again forever. We don't know what the Invaders want yet afaik but based on the name I'd assume they want to use MC as a super soldier to conquer other worlds. And the Rule Makers want to use MC to support one of their own worlds as its System. /smacks MC on the back) this baby can hold SO MANY rules and roles! Hold up a whole damn world apparently!!

So think of it this way. . .they could go around rending everyone until the transient light returns them home or to the deaths they desire. . .but would the World Representatives really allow that? They'd just keep bringing in transients. They need to fill Tokyo with them--until transients and app users outnumber the humans naturally belonging to Tokyo--so they can have their little contest.

MC alone would never be able to pull off sending everyone home as long as the Game is running. The worlds would not allow their contest to be ruined.

As for who goes where and does what when unsummoned. The Red Oni hadn't been there long. And perhaps wasn't summoned in the first place, nor had anyone likely explained much to them for that arrival. Also if you felt yourself disappearing, felt your connection to this world just torn off and uprooted and fading away, even if you knew better you'd probably think you're dying. That'd be scary. You'd want to avoid it.

Of course it's also possible the oni was dead or dying to begin with and their connection being severed would send them back to death--like Shino, who'd died long ago in the Land of Wa and when he died in Tokyo he went back to being dead.

The D-Evils don't have anywhere to go back to besides Shiro's book. The world of the Old Ones is gone. As such "home" for them is back with Shiro--and remember, their rules clash anyway. Rending and Ressurection don't mix. MC couldn't rend the D-Evils from Shiro properly because it causes an Exception. At best rending them will send them back to the book until Shiro summons them again. Plus, entities from Old Ones can use their powers without the use of the app--including those with Old Ones artifacts. Shiro can summon the D-Evils at any time, even outside of an app battle--so to send them 'home' doesn't really send them anywhere but back to Shiro since they both have no home to return to and were summoned to exist in Tokyo.

Demons needing to recieve emotions seems to be more of a feeding thing than a transient connection one afair. Like Alp eating dreams--he'll die if he doesn't. It's like "I need to external feelings or I'll starve" not "I need external feelings or I go back to Ghenna." Sitri likely survived thanks to his feathers--his sacred artifact which cause people they attach to to fall in love with whoever touched them previously--causing a constant stream of love towards him as he needs it. As such he doesn't need to have a pact to live, he only needs to make people fall for him to absorb that feeling and then take his feathers back to stop eating.

The canon-ness of MC making pacts with everyone is perhaps debateable. However events, character quests, special quests, etc have characters refer to Mc as Master or Summoner. And the story can sometimes reference events and such(see: meeting characters in events before they're part of the main story, meeting them in the main story, and being able to go "didn't I meet you in [season/holiday]?" And they go "yeah, we did! It's nice to see you again!" So technically events and the like are as canon as you make them. Also having a pact doesn't mean that person can't be your enemy or can't hurt you or is fully at your command, which means that it doesn't necessarily not make sense that characters can be in pacts with/summoned by the player while still being against them. MC likely has the ability to form pacts easily/unconsciously.

This is likely(and this part is speculation!) because of MC's role as the Wanderer--as the host of the Exiles of the many worlds, they're a system in and of themself(or they'e able to be one.) As such attachments to them are like individuals having 'faith' in them, the way Systems sustain worlds. Especially those who had some relationship with or attachment to an Exile they host. This may also cause a pseudo pact with people they meet and get attached to(and are attached to them in turn, not necessarily in a positive way)--like people believing in a faith. The attachment to them, love for them, hate of them, fear of them, is a sort of belief that causes them to be able to stay in Tokyo longer because they are now unwittingly part of MC's system. After all MC is a transient and transients, as far as I recall/understand, don't summon other transients to Tokyo, they only summon artifacts because bringing a whole person and their memories requires a strong means to bind them. Transients' connections are already dependent on someone/something else--which is already taxing as a pregnancy--and that'd be hard for them unless they were born into Tokyo.

In cases like Oniwaka and Zabaniyya and Ophion, they likely needed to disappear temporarily in order to resolve the Exception on top of regaining energy to sustain physical forms in another world. Think of it like closing a program on your computer. If the program clashed with another and an exception occurs you close the one of lesser importance. You can then maybe open it again once things have cooled down with your proccesser and it can handle them at the same time--thus, they come back to Tokyo even after being dismissed by fixing the exception.

So they pop back in because they're still bound to Tokyo. MC only rended them from the exception, not from the world itself. But transients who truly have no connection will go back and stay until summoned again. . . .

(Now that I think about it when someone fulfils the reason they were summoned to Tokyo they disappear and seem to disappear for good. We don't know if they die or what. They've been eliminated from the game. This happens with Surtr, Babalon, and Azathoth. After they successfully, properly became like Arc's family and that desire was considered fulfilled the pact was complete and they disappeared, leaving behind their artifacts.

Red Oni may have been summoned to be a tutorial for the player. But also a tutorial for the player character. Red Oni thus would go away completely after fulfilling that desire of whoever summoned them, thus giving them their fear they'd die because they'd served their purpose.

I just happened to remember/consider that lol ANYWAY.)

Basically it's a bit underexplained I agree.

But that's because you, as the player, as the MC, aren't supposed to know everything that's going on. You're supposed to learn as you go while also being denied information by the Powers That Be. You don't have your memories, you don't know what's going on here until you see/experience/hear about it. It's part of the immersive understanding/storytelling proccess. The characters don't tell you how things work because they only barely understand it themselves--and then when they learn 'this isn't just a game, this isn't just coincidence, there's something greater happening here' everything they know gets thrown into question. The people who do understand it aren't going to tell you much because they don't want you to ruin their game. You're just the final boss and the trophy to be won--and possibly the system upon which the game resides, resetting every time you die so you can struggle to be won someday.

You "can't win."

So you don't need to know how it works.

That doesn't stop you or anyone else from trying to find out, though, nor does it stop you from trying to change it.

. . .I hope that helped a bit! 8'D I don't think you missed much, really. You're right in that it's underexplained but That's Storytelling, Baby!

[humansofhds]

Steven Fisher, MDiv ’21

“I had one interaction with a patient who had trouble talking and had to communicate by writing on notebook paper. And as she struggled to write, she told me that she was preparing to be her husband's co-caretaker now that they were both in a place of poor health. As a chaplain, to receive that note and see the love that was poured into it was beautiful. That is what ‘holy’ is. I still carry that specific note with me, almost as one would a prayer card.”

Steven Fisher is a third-year master of divinity degree candidate at HDS and serves as a chaplain at Boston Children's Hospital.

Forming Identity, Finding Belonging

I grew up outside of Chicago, in a suburb called Vernon Hills. I was born there in 1993, my family having immigrated from Mexico City in 1991. So, I grew up in a household in which Spanish was primarily spoken, and then as soon as I started school, I started speaking Spanglish. Even though I spent most of my time in Illinois, we traveled to Mexico City often to be with my family there. Both the Chicago area and Mexico City are very much home for me. 

I had a rich childhood, filled with time spent outdoors in the prairies, the forest preserves in Northern Illinois, and then Mexico City for Christmas. I remember spending many hours in such beautiful places, like grandmother's flower garden, and the nearby open-air market. These vivid places have informed my experience of the world. I recall being in Mexico City seeing houses that were painted pink, and cerulean, and orange, then taking the plane back to Chicago, and as we were landing, I’d look down and see the winter. Suddenly everything was covered in snow. The sky was gray and the houses were painted gray or brown. It felt like I was entering a completely different world. 

Over time, I learned to switch between and navigate those worlds. Whenever I was in Chicago, I felt like a part of myself was missing—my Mexican identity. And whenever I was in Mexico, a part of my American identity was also missing, or wasn't being acknowledged fully. But when I got to college, I began to meet people from similar backgrounds with immigrant childhoods. 

There, I found belonging with people who knew what it meant to belong to more than a single culture. They knew how to speak Spanglish, they accepted my Spanish with all its grammar mistakes, and they weren’t embarrassed about their own accents in whichever language. Finding these communities was probably the most enriching experience I had, because I felt seen.  

Ministry at Harvard Divinity School

Before HDS, I worked for the Red Cross in their disaster services. Doing that work, I came across firefighter chaplains, state trooper chaplains, and hospital chaplains. I loved their ability to connect with survivors of natural disasters, so I investigated that career a little bit more and realized one needed a theological graduate degree. 

I had been a theology minor in undergrad and had a professor who encouraged further theological studies. At the time, I was at a Catholic university and this professor wanted me to go to a Catholic graduate school. However, I heard about HDS and decided to apply to their DivEx program instead. When I got to DivEx, it was incredible to see so many people who were rooted in different traditions and unconventional ways of being within their own traditions. They had such a commitment to justice and what that looked like in their respective communities. It was an almost immediate connection with the people there, coupled with lots of laughter.  

After that, I decided to apply to HDS, and I came about a year later. I could have gone to any number of theological graduate schools to complete that requirement, but I think I chose HDS because of our sense of wholeness when it comes to spirituality. The sense that we can take a class at the Medical school or the Education School and turn that into ministry. I love that HDS honors that, and that's a big part of why I came here.  

Queerness, Catholicism, and Eco-Spirituality

I grew up Catholic in a predominantly Mexican American experience of Catholicism, with a deep devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Saints, and all the folklore that surround that. I still carry that with me as someone who is part of the Catholic tradition. 

At the same time, I'm also queer. And going back to the conversation about belonging, my queerness has challenged my place in the Catholic Church and forced me to claim spaces within it at the same time. What that looks like today is constantly navigating what it means for me to be true to myself, and what it means for me to be Catholic. 

Pointing toward Saints like Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Joan of Arc, and Saint Therese of Lisieux has been a big part of my spirituality. They had a really deep and expansive sense of what loving is, in ways that extend even beyond the human, and into other ecosystems and other beings in the world. That is something that I want to hold true to. It shows up a lot in my spirituality and the ways it’s grounded in the environment, which I like to think of as a manifestation of God's creation. 

As individuals, some of us have a strong relationship with different ecosystems and what our place is in those ecosystems. But as a collective, we haven't really articulated a common vision. I think this is why we have so much trouble articulating our positions on climate change and policy. This is not to say we need to create a moral vision around the environment, but rather to say that we have an opportunity to unearth truths within our own traditions, and to learn with humility from the traditions of people who have been a part of this land before us, particularly indigenous peoples. 

The Holiness of Love

Currently I'm at Boston Children's Hospital, where I'm working primarily as a Spanish-speaking chaplain. However, a lot of my past training here at the Divinity School has been in English. Therefore, phrases like “holding space”, or “ministry”, or even the word “chaplain” don't necessarily translate to Spanish very well. It's awkward, it's clunky, and I struggle. So, now I'm learning to let the patients and families give me their own language for articulating their spiritual care. 

I ask very basic questions, and the vocabulary they use around God, or meaning and faith, is what I can more easily use to reflect back. I can't come in with my own vocabulary anymore. And I think this lesson applies to the way we meet people with other traditions. Essentially, we cannot come in with our own language of what it means to articulate a moral position around the environment, for example. We can only learn from other people's languages and reflect back what they have shared. 

Being a chaplain has honestly given me a broader conception of what is considered “holy”. This is due to the fact that I have had to learn how to honor holiness in the lives of other people who may have a very different worldview from me, whether it is about politics, religion, race, or gender. I've had to grow the capacity to learn what is holy in their lives, and to take that seriously.  

I had one interaction with a patient who had trouble talking and had to communicate by writing on notebook paper. And as she struggled to write, she told me that she was preparing to be her husband's co-caretaker now that they were both in a place of poor health. As a chaplain, to receive that note and see the love that was poured into it was beautiful. That is what “holy” is. I still carry that specific note with me, almost as one would a prayer card. 

Additionally, every time I talk to a patient nowadays, I try to light a candle. When I'm done talking to that patient, I blow out the candle. I've since extended that to my classes. It is one simple thing that has allowed me to acknowledge the holiness of the moment, even if it is through a phone call, or a video call, or a class on Zoom. This has been really centering for me. 

I am also a beekeeper and now that it’s getting warmer, I'm ready to be with my bees again, and check on their hive more regularly. Bees have the capacity to leave the hive, explore, and then come back to their community. For me, there's a sense of connection that comes with that. During this time where I'm somewhat isolated, I can welcome these bees back from wherever they went and feel like I m a part of this world, especially when I see all the pollen they have returned with from flowers miles around me. 

Interview by Suzannah Omonuk; photos courtesy of Steven Fisher

[aventurasdeunatortuga]

Laredo Part 2

Week 1

Hey friends,

After a long travel hiatus, as some of you may already know, I am back in Laredo, Texas. I’ll be here for about 3.5 weeks working with shelters to support recently arrived asylum seekers at the US Mexico border. I was here 2 years ago doing the same thing, you can go through the laredo tag on here to get some more background about what is going on here and to read about my experiences in 2019.

I have been here already for about a week and have been so exhausted I haven’t had the energy to write anything, but here is more or less what is going on.

So since Fall of 2019, the border was closed to all asylum seekers thanks to 45’s cruel Remain In Mexico policy, which forced asylum seekers from Central America to wait along the Mexican border for an undetermined amount of time until they could get an immigration hearing. In the past asylum seekers could wait with their families in the US for their court dates (it can be a long wait). Waiting at the border in Mexico, a country they are not from, left folks vulnerable to human trafficking, kidnapping, gang violence, and extortion from the cartels operating along the border. During COVID folks were living in makeshift tents along the border with no running water and were left vulnerable to exposure, flooding, disease, dangerous wildlife, and the millions of other dangers that come from being outside in 113 degree heat with no water. There was no international aid brought in and support was limited to the few aid workers allowed to cross the border, which was very dangerous given the amount of gang violence on the Mexican side. One shelter director in Nuevo Laredo was kidnapped and murdered last year.

When Biden was elected, he reversed the Remain In Mexico policy just a few weeks into his presidency. Meaning that asylum seekers could now enter the US after surrendering at the border and being held for indeterminate amounts of time in ICE detention centers. Once they are released from there they are given a court date in wherever their final destination in the US is, but are left on the street with nothing.

Most folks are illiterate, none speak English and some only speak indigenous dialects. All of their possessions and money have been taken by either cartels or by ICE. Most havent eaten in days and many are seriously ill. None of them know where they are or how to get where they’re going. ICE will drop them off at random towns along the border after releasing them from detention, sometimes hundreds of miles from where they crossed. They just have a name and phone number memorized of a friend or family member in the US that is sponsoring them and who they are planning to stay with.

The vast majority of folks are from Central America, they are fleeing cartel violence , government persecution, extreme poverty, and natural disasters caused by climate change. The instability in these countries (Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and El Salvador) was caused directly by US intervention, but that’s a whole other topic I won’t get into now. Folks must show a credible proof of being threatened or persecuted in their home country to even be granted the status of asylum seeker and to be given a court date.

Shelters in border towns do what they can to support folks being released from detention. They help them make phone calls, provide translation, help them buy bus and plane tickets, give them food, water, medical care, showers, clean clothes, toiletries, and a safe place to sleep until they are able to make travel arrangements to their final destinations.

During the last 2 years under the Remain In Mexico policy, no one was being admitted and so shelters lost a great deal of funding, staff, and volunteers. They turned more towards community work, which was especially needed during COVID.

Shelters are in a difficult position now though, folks are allowed to enter now which is good news but shelters are having to meet even more extreme needs with far fewer resources than they had pre-COVID.

For a long time the shelter I worked with before, La Frontera, was closed due to lack of funding; but only very recently reopened again. I have been spreading my time between La Frontera (run by Catholic charities) and the other shelter in Laredo, Holding Institute Community Center, which is a community center run by the Methodist Church. Both of these shelters have 2-3 paid staff members, a revolving door of volunteers from around the country (the majority of them nuns), are entirely donation based, and receive 200-300 new people every single day.

About 20-30% of each busload of people that ICE drops off are infected with COVID. ICE refuses to test folks that they detain for COVID because if they knew they had positive cases they would have to provide healthcare and a place for them to quarantine. Instead they lump everyone together in cramped conditions and COVID is allowed to run rampant in these detention centers.

In detention folks are kept in overcrowded rooms, communicated with almost exclusively in English, are provided limited food and toiletries, and are kept in refrigerated rooms (65 degrees) with no blankets. These places are called the ‘ice boxes’. Sometimes folks are separated from their families here as well.

Lately there has also been a dysentery outbreak due to the fact that the city of Laredo does not currently have drinkable water, residents are advised to drink only bottled or boiled water, which asylum seekers do not have access to until they reach the shelters.

When folks reach the shelters, they are given on the spot covid tests by a team of nurses and public health officials. There is no room for them at the hospitals, even if there were room hospitals wouldnt accept them because they have no insurance. The city government has offered bottled water to the shelters but thats it.

After being tested for covid, the health team divides folks into 2 groups, positive and negative. Folks who test positive have to quarantine for 10 days in an empty warehouse next door to the shelter or if they’re lucky and the shelter can afford it, a motel. Yesterday the shelter bought out a motel because there were 200+ covid patients who arrived. We have two small classrooms at the shelter that have been converted into sleeping areas for about 40 covid patients. The medical team leaves boxes of food and clothing outside their door, and once a day they are taken to shower and then the entire bathroom is sanitized.

Those who test negative are immediately vaccinated on site, and then taken to get clean clothes, food, and a shower. They sleep on cots outside under the trees in the fenced courtyard of the shelter.

For the first few days I’ve been here, I’ve been working at Holding only because I didn’t know La Frontera had reopened. I was mainly working on sorting and organizing clothing and helping folks find clothes that they need. Last night though 200+ covid positive patients arrived and we had to stop allowing people in the building to pick out clothes, and today we moved to just putting together kits of different sized clothes to give directly to them.

I was feeling a bit frustrated the last few days because the staff member in charge of organizing donations was being extremely critical of me and it was very frustrating and degrading to be around. I was yelled at a number of times by her. For example, I saw a pile of 200 towels on the ground and folded them. I was told that I did it wrong, to unfold them and fold all of them a different way. Or I started organizing toiletries and was just told ‘no, you’re messing it up, don’t touch that’. I understand that I’m new but no one took the time to introduce themselves to me, orient me, or show me what to do and I was trying to be helpful. I also understand that folks are stressed and under pressure but please don’t take it out on people trying to help you. Most everyone there is extremely nice it was just one of the staff members in particular that was acting this way. I was told I wasn’t allowed to give water or shoes to people who needed them because “I didn’t know how to do it” and because “if you give water to one person, everyones going to want it, and i don’t have time for that”. I didn’t come down here to sit inside doing nothing next to a giant case of bottled water and be told I’m not allowed to give it to the thirsty person in front of me.

So I walked out and I left the shelter in the middle of the day to go drive around town and take a breather, because everything I did seemed like made someone upset. When I came back I inserted myself into the kitchen crew and ended up making 200+ sandwiches for dinner. I also had a long talk with one of the nuns who assured me that that staff member is like that with everyone and has a lot of control issues due to the amount of pressure she is under, and not to take it personally. She told me that La Frontera had reopened and so ever since then I started dividing up my days between the two shelters. This has made a big difference and I feel a lot better and more useful.

I also connected more with some of the nuns here and they invited me to dinner tonight which was nice. One of the sisters is writing a book based on narratives of folks passing through these shelters and is interviewing people she meets. It was fascinating to talk to her. She has worked with undocumented immigrants and DREAMers from around the country for 28 years, and wrote another book based on those experiences called Silent Voices In The Shadows (Paula Schwendinger), which I just finished reading and highly recommend.

Oh, also it has been raining really hard for the past day or so with 95% humidity and constant thunder and lightening, which has made things even more interesting.

I will try to keep posting semi regularly while I’m here.

[se-ono-waise-ilia]

Training the Perranth City Guard

Training the Perranth City Guard

Summary: After about year of rebuilding, Perranth starts to recruit and train the City Guard.  Lorcan and Elide are invited to attend their orientation, and Lorcan has some thoughts on the role of the City Guard in Perranth. (Takes places about a year after end of KoA)

Genre: Social Justice, Community, Family, some cute Elorcan fluff at the end.

This story was inspired by current events, which calls to make major change in police training, funding, and more.  This is not a perfect story intended to capture all components of the movement.  It’s more of a nod to some of its important values.

—-

Elide wasn’t impressed with the City Guard orientation meeting, nor was she disappointed.  It all seemed standard procedure - the patrols, schedule, laws that the Guard had to follow, actions by citizens that warranted punitive measures, and such.  Elide understood this organization was necessary to the city, but it left her feeling uncomfortable.

She grew up in a place where total control was enforced by guards.  Obviously not like the guards in her up-and-coming Perranth, but with similar duties.  The Valg guards in Morath had almost the same responsibilities as this City Guard, but Perranth was supposed to be the opposite of Morath: peaceful, free, inclusive, an all-around good place to live.  So why did the duties of the Perranth City Guard remind her so much of the guards of Morath?

As she contemplated her unsettled feelings, she glanced at her husband.  She immediately noticed the subtle tells that he was also in a state of contemplation.  First of all, he was sitting beside her.  Normally, he stood behind her or off to the right - more so a warrior than lord, which was a powerful statement to her colleagues in court.  But sitting beside her, she could tell he was being intentional about his choice. There was a reason he didn’t want to come across as an intimidating warrior.

He was also hunched forward, forearms on his knees, and hands clasped together.  As though he wanted to take action, but was intentionally holding back and strategizing.

But more than his position and body posture, the expression in his eyes struck Elide.  It was the expression Lorcan used when he was contemplating one of his fundamental values. An expression he used to direct at her when he was trying to atone for past actions.

Elide no longer felt unnerved, but intrigued.  She could sense Lorcan was about to do something significant, but she didn’t know what.  She had a feeling she would agree with it and play along.

Lorcan sensed her thoughtful gaze, and made eye contact with her.  He didn’t change his facial expression. Then his eye travelled to her slightly pregnant belly.  

He continued to stare at her as the facilitator of the training continued on.  His name was Captain Chase.  He had a very text-book look and character for the leader of a City Guard: experienced, confident, strategic, no-nonsense, efficient above all else.  Lorcan didn’t seem impressed with him either, as Elide could tell he was lost in thought and barely listening to the man.

Elide tuned back in to the training, “…These patrols will be directed to these parts of the city in particular, so we have a constant presence where crime is most likely to occur,” Both Elide and Lorcan looked at the map to see where Captain Chase was indicating, and it was the part of Perranth were the impoverished population of new immigrants were struggling to find secure housing.  It was something the council of Perranth had been discussing, but no action had been taken as of yet.

Lorcan’s face shifted to disapproval at Captain Chase’s strategy, and he looked to Elide for permission.  Elide didn’t know what her husband was thinking, but she trusted him to say and do what he felt needed to be done.  She nodded.

“Stop.” Lorcan stated.

Captain Chases stopped mid-sentence, his body frozen.  Although the attendees had been quietly listening and writing notes, Elide could feel the room stop moving and breathing altogether.  The presence her husband had…she couldn’t help but sigh internally.

Lorcan slowly stood up, and walked to the front of the room.  He turned to face the City Guard.  Captain Chase went to stand to the side, understanding that his lord had everyone’s undivided attention.  

Lorcan stood with his arms crossed, and he stared at no one in particular.  Elide could sense he intended to be careful with his words to make a point.  Lorcan did not have the charisma of Queen Aelin for inspiring speeches, but he understood how to make an effective counterargument.

Elide also held her breath, but at last her husband spoke, “You know who I am.  You know my experiences.  So you know I’ve been present in cities…at various stages of…existence.”

The attendees in the room gave a slight nod, while looking intently at her husband.  It went without saying, the stories of when Lorcan was a key part in demolishing some cities.

Lorcan continued, “I’ve see many variations of a City Guard, most of which have similar roles to which Captain Chase was instructing.”

Captain Chase did not respond with words or body language. Elide could tell the Captain was uncertain of what Lorcan was about to say, as was she.

Lorcan paused for another moment, “The Captain said there should be a heavier patrol presence in the part of our city that is struggling the most.  As if it is expected that there will be more crime in that neighborhood.”

The room, if possible, felt even more silent and still.  Captain Chase tensed up slightly at the implied critique.  

“I have a question for you all,” Lorcan nodded to himself, as if he approved of his strategy, “Why is it expected for crime to occur in this neighborhood?”

Nobody answered or raised their hand. 

Elide shook her head and said, “They may not feel safe, and they may not have choices for survival that are law abiding.”  Her answer came from her experience lying her way into a job, and breaking many other laws at a significant moment of her life.  And Lorcan’s life.

Lorcan nodded at his wife, “Other thoughts?” He challenged the crowd. 

Soon, participants began to call out:

“Insecure housing.”

“They are hungry.”

“The don’t have productive ways to spend time, like a job or school.”

There were some more answers, and then Captain Chase spoke, “They feel that their dignity has been taken away from them, due to circumstances out of their control.”

Lorcan stared at the Captain.  The Captain stared back.  Lorcan nodded in approval, and Elide swore she could see the Captain’s body relax ever so subtly.

Lorcan stared back into the crowd, “Do you think extra patrols are going to help these people feel safe and supported?”

There were shakes of heads and murmurings that gave the consensus: no.

“Although City Guard patrols are necessary to an extent, the City Guard should also spend their time supporting our community in a way that truly makes the people feel safe and supported.”

The room paused again, but with awe rather than uncertainty.  Elide beamed at her husband and lord of Perranth.

“What exactly are you suggesting, lord Lochan?” Captain Chase prompted.

Lorcan looked to the table next to time, retrieved paper and a writing utensil, and handed the materials to a random attendee in the front row, “What’s your name?”

“Gal,” the attendee responded.

“Can you record the following?”  Elide again beamed at her husband.  He had been working on asking people to do tasks rather than barking at them.  With lots of reminders from her, she might add.

The man nodded and readied the writing utensil.

Lorcan looked to the crowd, “I ask for you to call out a problem or crime, but then call out a preventative solution that would likely prevent that problem or crime.  For example, if the problem is insecure housing, the preventative solution would be constructing residential buildings.” He nodded to Gal, who wrote it down.

After a moment, people called out:

“People are hungry even though we don’t have a food shortage.  Provide more areas in the city to get food, perhaps at no little or no cost to specific populations.”

“People need a way to earn money and contribute.  Perhaps there could be a resource to help people find jobs in Perranth.”

“Some are traumatized in a variety of ways from the war and even before then.  There should be a place that helps them recover and hopefully heal.”  There were additional sounds of agreement to this point.  Elide would very much like for Perranth to have healers.  Not just to help her figure out her newly healed ankle, but also someone therapeutic to talk to.

“People need may need new skills to find work.  Apprenticeships from current businesses could help with that.”

“Some do not speak the same languages, which can escalate emotions.  Offering translators with common services could decrease frustrating misunderstandings.”

Elide spoke again, “Some people may not have had educational opportunities to learn how to read and write,” her voice trembled in insecurity, and Lorcan looked upon her lovingly.  This look gave her strength, “Perranth not only needs places to learn, but it should be the right for every person in this city to learn at no cost or sacrifice.”

She could feel loving gazes from others, in addition to that of her husband.  Upon taking up the mantle as Lady of Perranth, she tried desperately to hide her illiteracy.  But after a while, it felt like she was deceiving the council and lying to her people.  Her guilt overruled her insecurity.

With no small amount of anxiety, she began to ask people other than Lorcan for help with reading and writing.  She expected humiliation, but instead received unending kindness and support.  Not only were the people of Perranth respectful of her illiteracy, but they were overly eager to take it upon themselves to teach her.  Everywhere she went, and every conversation she had; her citizens would point out letters, numbers, and words to her and explain their meaning.

It became a bonding experience for her and her people.  The love she had felt since being open about her insecurity was incompatible to anything she had every felt.  It was such a different kind of love than the romance she shared with her husband, and she treasured the feeling.  She still had a lot to learn, but she was now able to read very simple texts and write basic prose.

So when she felt the room’s eyes on her, she felt nothing but support and admiration.  Then she winked at Lorcan, and he smiled at her.  

She didn’t know if it was her earnest participation, Lorcan’s rare display of endearing facial expressions, or the momentum gained from the powerful conversation, but answers from many more attendees come flooding out into the conversation.

An attendee next to Gal got him more paper, and many others in the room were also processing the conversation by writing down thoughts. Elide’s eyes lined with silver at the thought of her City Guard being more than just enforcers of law and justice.  

After about 15 minutes of whole group conversation and writing, Captain Chase interrupted, “Forgive me lord and lady,” the room shifted their attention on the Captain, “I recognize the value of the City Guard contributing the the welfare of the community, but these ideas seem more like philanthropic work.  Isn’t this the work of others, not the City Guard?”

Lorcan stared at the Captain, and this time the Captain showed difficulty in staring back, and eventually averted his eyes.  Elide could tell the Captain was experiencing internal conflict.  He wasn’t opposed to the community work, but Elide could tell he was also set in his traditional mindset of the responsibilities of a City Guard.

Elide understood this was her moment to lead.  She stood, and walked to stand beside her husband.  She could feel the room straightening up, even Lorcan adjusted his posture.  She first looked to the Captain, “Yes, this work is not the sole responsibility of the City Guard.  And the traditional work of the City Guard will still be respected and done,” she paused, “but on a much smaller scale.”

She then looked to the attendees in the room, “Lord Lochan and I desire the City Guard to have a presence of community support, more than a presence of law and order.

This conversation is only the beginning.  Gal, could you please recruit someone sitting near you to help write a copy of everything you just recorded?” Gal nodded, “I will bring this copy to the council.  And we will get to work on organizing departments to focus on these issues and solutions if they don’t already exist.  The expectation is that the City Guard will use their hours of work to contribute to these causes however appropriate: manual labor, administrative labor, community outreach, and such.”

The Captain boldly countered, “Forgive me my lady, but won’t that send a message to the people that the City Guard is…” he searched for the word, but Elide could tell he was trying not to say something controversial.  

She understood his intention, and silenced him with a hand, “Yes, this City Guard will not be like those of other cities.  It will not have the tone of intimidation and ultimate authority.”

An attendee stood up.  He was almost the size of Lorcan, and almost matched his intimidating presence. Elide had not observed him participating in the conversation until this point, “But if people do not feel the intimidation and authority of those in charge, why would they obey the laws?” Elide noticed this question was directed at Lorcan, not her.  She huffed internally.

She analyzed the man for a moment, and saw someone who had used fear as a tool of control.  Elide looked to her husband.

For a moment, the man and Lorcan were having a stand off in eye contact, “What’s your name?”

“Key,” he responded.  Key was looking to Lorcan for agreement, but it was clear Lorcan was using this moment as a time to think about how to spin the question.

At last, “Everyone stand up.”  Everyone did right away.  

Lorcan looked towards Elide, “My lady,” he offered his hand.  She took it.  He led to to one side of the room.  Then he let go, and positioned himself on the other side of the room, near the Captain.  Everyone remained standing.

“If you have chosen to be a peaceful and law-abiding citizen of Perranth because you know how dangerous I am, and you fear me; stand on this side of the room.” Nobody dared to move, not even Key.

“But…if you have chose to be a peaceful and law-abiding citizen of Perranth because you love and cherish your home and community, stand on the side of the room with lady Lochan.”

After a moment, the people began to move.  Elide observed the vast majority, including all of the many women, move to stand near her.  Key, and six other men who looked just as menacing and eager for a fight, moved to stand near Lorcan.  Elide looked to the Captain, and the Captain was the final person to choose his place.  

He crossed the room to stand next to Elide.

There was a moment of quiet as she felt the attendees of the room consider why they chose their place.  Elide felt an incredible sense of purpose and pride at the fact that most attendees essentially agreed to the point that they were motivated by love, not fear.

She moved to the center of the room and said, “We want the citizens of Perranth to love and cherish the City Guard as you love and cherish them.  But to do that, you need to earn their love through being of service by helping the city in the ways that matter most.”

Lorcan moved to stand next to her, “Your original squad assignments are now invalid.  At our next meeting, we will have sign up sheets for all of the causes we listed here today, and maybe some more that we have yet to think of.  Your new squad will be the people who sign up for the same cause as you.”

Before the Captain could speak up again, Lorcan continued, “We will still have a number of squads participate in traditional duties of the City Guard.  They will alternate every week, such that every squad is mostly doing community work, and sometimes doing traditional work.”

The he stared at the Captain, “And this traditional City Guard work will not explicitly focus on specific populations.  They will be fair and just in how they patrol and manage challenging situations.  I will personally observe and hold our guards accountable.” Her husband looked more serious than usual at that statement, and the Captain nodded with agreement and respect.

Elide kept the conversation on track, “Captain Chase will be in charge of the functions of traditional City Guard duties under the supervision of lord Lochan.  We will need someone in charge of City Guard community support project management, who will attend council meetings and be under my supervision.

Does anyone here have experience managing large groups of people and multiple projects?”

A woman came forward, “My name is Dominique.  I used to be in charge of a school in Perranth before… I have significant experience connecting with children, leading teachers, and managing school logistics simultaneously.”

Elide nodded with approval at the woman, “Would anyone else like to submit their candidacy?”  No one did, “Very well.  Captain Dominique, you will be in charge of the document Gal has written, meet with me, and attend tomorrow’s council meeting with me.”

Elide and Dominique smiled at each other.

Dominique nodded and went to Gal.  Elide looked to Lorcan.  Her husband addressed the room, “That is all for today.  You will be contacted when Captain Dominique announces the second orientation.”

He then turned to the group of men who stood on his side of the room, “I see you men, and I understand you.  But if you’re looking for a fight, you are not to be a part of the City Guard,” the men looked outraged, and Lorcan continued, “instead, you will be the guards of our personal estate, and get to fight me on a regular basis as sparring partners.”

The outrage on their faces simmered down as they contemplated this new offer.  Lorcan elaborated, “Your duties will include full time grounds patrol, and discretely guarding lady Lochan.  When our child is born, you will extend your duties to support the well being of our heir.

I am offering you the job you want, but the only violence you will receive is training with me,” he smiled grimly at them, and Elide noticed them begin to grin back, “Otherwise, you will act essentially as peaceful shields to our home and family.  What say you?”

The looked at each other, then took a knee.  Key stated, “We serve our lord and lady.”  The others repeated Key.  

Elide wouldn’t have known what to do with such characters longing for violence in a time for peace.  Lorcan apparently thought giving the offer the fight him was a solution…and perhaps Lorcan needed a violent outlet as much as these men did.

Lorcan looked satisfied, “Report to me at dawn tomorrow on the sparring field outside my estate.”

Elide could sense a hint of excitement from her husband.  Lorcan couldn’t really be himself around anyone but Elide, as he didn’t want Perranth to fear him.  Even though Lorcan clearly didn’t want these aggressive men patrolling a peaceful Perranth, she thought it was possible that Lorcan wanted some like-minded warriors to give him a sense of companionship.  Lorcan could likely be his true warrior-self around Key and these men.  Elide wondered what nickname Aelin would name this group…

He then looked to the City Guard, “If you notice others will an unquenchable thirst for violence, send them my way immediately.  Otherwise, dismissed.”

Every attendee showed some sign of respect to them with a bow, nod of the head, wave, some even asked for a handshake.  Including Captain Chase.  Gal gave a copy of the records to Captain Dominique, and the other to Elide.  

Lorcan pressed a gentle hand again Elide’s back, and she accepted his escort to their next meeting.  As they walked, she spoke, “Well that was an unexpected but welcome turn of events.”

Lorcan gave her a proud look, “Our home has a unique opportunity to start fresh in times of peace and plenty.”

She stopped to look at him knowingly, “And your intention was purely for the good of society?”

He stopped with her, and let his gaze wander to her belly.  With one hand, he caressed the place where their child grew, and he used his other hand to gently press his wife against him.  He looked down into her eyes, and she saw the tiniest glimmer of guilt.

“I realize that in the past, prioritizing the one I love without thought for others had devastating consequences,” he took a breath, “and I regret the narrow focus I once had.”

She put her hands on his face and lovingly caressed his cheeks with her thumbs.  He continued, “This is the time for me to love more than just you.  To love our city, so it will thrive.  And be a safe and happy place for our child to grow up, knowing that love.”

He leaned down as she pressed up, and they met in the middle for a chaste kiss.

When she pulled away, she chuckled with the thought of a silly but possibly wonderful idea.

“What is it?” Her husband questioned her as they once again began walking, his hand still on her back.

“Well, arts programming is a service that will provide jobs and entertainment, which will help sustain peace and community.”

He looked at her to continue.

She smiled up at him, “Perhaps you could train your new lackeys in flaming sword throwing, and your could start a Perranth circus,” she couldn’t help but burst out in giggles.

Lorcan’s eyes lit up and he chuckled.  They rounded a corner and he pressed Elide into a wall as she continued to giggle, “And will there be a beautiful oracle with red lips oggling me in the crowd?”

Elide quelled her giggles, “Always.”

The kissing to follow was anything but chaste.

[tyrannosaurusrexdale]

TIMUR AND HIS FRIENDS

Every time I walk past my old apartment on Wallace Avenue I think about my former neighbours, who lived above me on the upper floor of a split level home. When I moved in, the apartment upstairs was home to three Russian guys, living in what I assume to have been a two bedroom apartment. I rarely saw them or heard from them. They would usually wake up extremely early in the morning, before six, return in the evening, and quickly go to sleep. Occasionally I'd detect the odor of garlic emanating from the apartment, or they’d leave empty bottles of Slivovitz by the recycling bin. I rarely thought about them. After a few months, Timur moved in, and after that, life was very different.

Timur was from Kazakhstan, which he told me upon our first meeting, and later I confirmed by the enormous Kazakh flag that he hung in the front window. I came to understand it to be an act of provocation. It became apparent quickly that Timur and the his Russian roommates were not on good terms. He would play Kazakh folk music loudly throughout the day, and often into the night. Shouting matches would happen regularly, which was shocking, as previously the Russians seemed too exhausted to make a commotion. I began to intermittently hear glass breaking, the circumstances of which I didn’t want to think about. One night, at approximately one in the morning, one of the Russians moved out dramatically (the youngest one, who looked like Pavel Bure), packing all his belongings into two duffel bags and throwing them into the back of a cab while launching a burst of what I assume to be obscenities back at the house before the cab sped away. Around this time I felt compelled to purchase a pair of expensive noise cancelling headphones, though when the shouting upstairs started, I rarely put them on.

One night, in the dead of winter, I was finishing a gin & tonic while preparing for a date with a former coworker. Stephanie and I had previously worked together in the same store for roughly a year before she left for a job with the government, and after nearly four months of messaging back and forth, she’d agreed to meet me for drinks. As I tied the laces of my boots and prepared to leave for the short walk for the bus stop, I heard a loud crash outside of my window. I threw my coat on and went outside to find Timur, wearing a t-shirt and ancient Soviet-era athletic shorts, shivering on the concrete next to the overturned garbage cans. He had a large scratch on his arm and both his bare feet looked to be injured, swelling up quickly despite the cold. I asked him what had happened, and after nearly a full minute of groaning and cursing in his native Kazakh, he responded. “Sergei, that dog” he said between pants, “he locked me out of house and I try to climb back in.” The narrow ledge outside his window above him was at least twelve feet high, and it appeared he’d fallen from that height. I asked what he wanted me to do, if he needed me to call and ambulance, but deflected the question. His pace of breathing quickened and he seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.

I decided to run upstairs and see if anyone was home. I banged on the door, to no response, before running back down to check on Timur. I darted into my apartment and grabbed a blanket I could use to cover him. When I emerged outside, Timur had been joined by two passersby, a woman who was already speaking at an incredibly high volume, and an older man, who from what I could tell, seemed to be calling for the assistance of the Lord. "Have you called an ambulance?" the woman shrieked at me. "He needs to be in the emergency room, right now!" I had refrained from calling an ambulance, out of concenrs over the price, and potentially Timur's immigration status. I asked Timur if he wanted me to call an ambulance, and he said he did not. The woman did not seem satisfied by this. "His blood is on your hands!" she shouted into my ear. The gentleman had produced a small bible from his backpack and appeared to be scanning through it. The situation appeared to be deteriorating.

I climbed the stairs for a second time and attempted to find one of Timur's roommates, thinking that even if they loathed him, they could at least help translate. I banged on the door, and once again receiving no response, decided to open it. Broom, cleaning supplies, snow shovel, vacuum, I'd been banging on the door of a supply closet. I felt exceptionally foolish. I could have been vacuuming my apartment this whole time? Now that was upsetting. I realized that the door to Timur's apartment was further down the hall. I cursed myself for not venturing upstairs before. But why would I ever have the need to hang out up here? That didn't make a ton of sense either. I walked down the hall to see that the door was open. I went inside to see a large Russian gentleman, sitting at a desktop computer wearing headphones, playing a military video game I've never seen before. It was unclear who was more shocked to see the other. "Hey, do you live with Timur," I said. He grunted affirmatively. "I think he's hurt outside, can you come help?" We stared at each other blankly before I began to leave, hoping he would follow. As I descended the stairs I glanced at my phone to see a message from Stephanie that said simply "???". I'd never received one like that before but it seemed ominous.

The woman waited for me as I walked down the stairs, her glare increasing with every step. "Don't worry, an ambulance has been called," she spat at me, contemptuously. "Someone is taking charge of the situation." Timur groaned upon hearing this, though I suspect it was the right thing to do. His ankles had swollen even further, the right in in particular beginning to resemble a large kaiser roll coated in blueberry jam. I leaned in to Timur. "They'll take care of you buddy, you'll be okay." I saw the worry on his face as he continued to whimper. I could tell from his reaction that his health coverage in this country was minimal. His roommate emerged from the building and handed him a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers before asking, I assume, if he was okay. Timur responded coldly in the affirmative, and the roommate stood over him for a few seconds before heading back inside. The older gentleman with the bible had moved to the other side of the street and was observing the situation from a safe distance. I glanced at my phone again. No further messages.

The ambulance came not long after that, and the paramedics began to move Timur to a gurney. They addressed most of their questions to me, though I had few answers, to their disappointment. The woman continued to glare in my direction while muttering under her breath that I was "disgraceful", and that I'd failed Timur in his hour of need. "His blood is on *your* hands!" she bellowed from a distance. The older gentleman had returned to the scene, and was investigating the cab of the ambulance with great fascination. The roommate emerged one last time to drop Timur's wallet into his lap before returning upstairs and turning off every lamp in their apartment. The ambulance turned on its lights and drove away. The woman had left without me noticing, though the older gentleman continued to read his bible on the sidewalk with a look of deep concentration on his face. I glanced at my watch. Only 35 minutes late. I almost began to run to the bus stop before remembering to grab a coat and lock my door, which had remained wide open this whole time.

I boarded a bus after a short wait. I quickly sent a message to Stephanie. "You're not gonna believe what just happened to me" I sent, adding "I'm so sorry : (" a minute later. No response to either. I got off the bus and nearly sprinted to my destination. 9:06. No sign of Stephanie in the bar. I sat down at a stool and ordered a beer. "Hey man," I asked the bartender, "Did you see a brunette in here by herself a little while ago?" The bartender eyed me down. "She was sitting right where you are bro" he responded contemptuously, as he placed a pint down on the counter. "She's gone." I gave him a ten dollar bill as my shoulders sank and I checked my phone in vain. I ended up getting pretty drunk that night before grabbing a falafel and trudging home.

I saw Timur again a week later, sitting on the stoop in front of the building with his leg in a cast. I inquired how his leg was though it was unclear if he recognized me. I refrained from pressing the issue any further and I went inside my apartment. Two weeks later, on a Saturday night, Stephanie sent me a message asking what I was doing at the moment, and that she'd love to see me. I responded quickly but my phone died not long after that, and I was unable to find a charger. By the time I got home that night, the message was gone, and it appeared that Stephanie had erased any existence of our virtual friendship. I never saw Timur again, and one day a few months later, the blue and gold Kazakh flag was gone. A year later I moved out, and not long after that, the house was sold, and renovated extensively back into a single family home. I take a look for the Kazakh flag whenever I walk past and the only thing I see are children's toys and chalk drawings, and a miserable, mousy-looking father working fruitlessly on a tiny, barren planter. Although once, cycling past late at night, I did see a lone bottle of Slivovitz in the recycling bin, which made me smile.

[savysavannah]

Challenge 1

Special thanks to @damian-schreave and @hadleyjaneharper for the rps.

Also the last section is not in fic format because its 2am, im lazy, and you get the gyst from the RP. Apperantly this is too long so part 2 soon.

    The Prince was off in Paloma for a bit so we were of little use in the Palace, no idea why they had us move in so early. Therefore, I’d spent most of the day with some books I’d grabbed from the library. Primarily they were legal books since it never hurts to brush up. But every once in a while, such as now I’d need to go and grab some food. 

I brought my notepad and a book on contract law with me and walked into the kitchen. There was another girl also in the kitchen. We haven't spoken to each other, she didn’t seem unfriendly or particularly awful company, just hadn’t really had the moment to. I grabbed a plate of fruit and wondered if she would say anything. After a moment I sat down and resumed reading. 

Then a small sad sigh came from the young woman who was looking down at her phone with a sad face. It wouldn’t be too bad if I took a break for some conversation. However, the young woman looked troubled, she may not be in the mood. I yawned and stretched then mumbled, but loud enough for her to hear, “God, I could use a drink.” and wondered if the other would take the bait. 

There was a beat before the other spoke, “Long day?”

“More or less. Lots of reading, missing work. How about yourself?”

She shrugged “Its...different than what I’m used to. Lots of sitting still when I’m used to spending my days moving around.” SHe grimaces then sighed, “The adjustment period is always the toughest, though.”

I thought for a moment trying to remember the occupations of the selected, “The dancer?” I asked. 

She grinned “Yeah. Hadley.” She raised an eyebrow, “And you?”

“Lawyer.” I said and stood from the table, walked over to Hadley and held her hand out, “Savannah Mars, Labrador, three.”

She shook my hand, “Nice to meet you.” then thought for a moment, “You said you were missing work? Do you work at a law firm?”

“Kinda. I work for the Illean Civil Liberties Union in their legal division. It's a non-profit which focuses on civil rights and for me civil legal cases. Lgbt+ rights defense, domestic defense, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s really cool.” She said, seeming actually interested in my work. “Are you missing the casework, or something else?”

“It's pretty hard for me to step back from my work. Since I'm kind of left worrying about my clients. A new guy took over my cases but I'm trying to still work in my own way by studying up on some legal sections I work in less frequently but still may come up. Such as contract law.” I explained not fully hearing her other question. 

She nodded, “I understand, sort of. I’m left worrying about how my ballet company is going to perform, with somebody else taking over the role in the Nutcracker that I’ve had the past few years.”

“Yeah the transition really is nerve wracking. Have you seen them perform though?” I asked hoping that could at least provide some solace. 

“I’ve seen pictures on Instagram, but no videos yet. We were just finishing up our performance of Cinderella when I left. Nutcracker rehearsal started a few days after, but it’s a show we do each year, so... “ She sighed “ It /should/ be fine.”

I nodded, “well if they assigned them the role try and have faith in their qualifications. That's what I'm keeping in mind for mine. They did go to law school so it's fine. They got the role so it’s fine.” I said partially for her and partially for me. 

She sighed a little hesitant, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Competition is just gonna be a bitch and a half when I’m sent back.” She chuckled wryly.  

“Well maybe you'll win and then you won't have too. Who’s gonna take a role away from the future queen of Illea.”

“That’s extremely unlikely to happen.” She then almost smirked “What about you? If you win, nobody’s going to tell you no in a courtroom.”

I laughed, “If I win I'll kill myself.” Then I realized how dark that sounded, though it didn’t seem to phase her.

“I hate to say that I feel the same way, but…” She shrugged and nodded, “I feel the same way” For a moment I was confused, why would she join if she felt the same way? Then it clicked, a dancer would be a five, lower class, need the money.

“You're a five right? Did you apply for the money? If you don't mind my asking that is. It would just make sense why you'd dislike to win.” 

“It…” She bit her lip, “Kind of? It’s a long story involving a deadbeat mom, a shitty health care system, two starving artists, and a kid with leukemia.” She said with an apologetic smile. Whatever she’d be apologizing for I can’t say. 

“Well shit man, I'm glad you got in then. Both for the money and for a break from that. I know this society fucking sucks and we've got a likely shit for brains hier, but if you ever need a lawyer I'm here to help. Hopefully, being a three now will provide some help for you too.” I said then caught myself making a mental note to not be so vulgar with my language. 

She gave me a small smile, “Thanks. Now I just have to figure out what I’m doing with the rest of my life, after throwing my career into dance, only to become a Three.” She laughed, “What about you? Why did you enter? It sounds like you had a pretty cushy gig going on.”

It wouldn’t be smart to tell the truth, but lying when Hadley had been so open felt wrong, I sighed and said, “My brother. Basically he forged my entry and I didn't want him to get into legal troubles for that. He's a fucking idiot.” I sighed and let that last cuss word slide as he is a fucking idiot. 

She snorted, “Men really do only have two brain cells.” She gave a small smile, “I’m sorry that you ended up in that situation, though. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. I tried to beat him up but my other brothers stopped me. It was really a mess. Had to find out from a waitress asking for a photo with me.” 

She shook her head, “My best friend told me that he was so upset to see me, “throwing my life away,” as if I hadn’t entered to help him and his brother.” Sounds like an ungrateful ass. She sighed and looked down at her fruit, “When did life get this messed up?”

A question with too big of an answer. A bit panicked and not knowing what to say I took a strawberry off my plate and held it out to her, “Fruit?” 

She chuckled and took the strawberry, “Thanks.” She takes a bit, chews, and then pauses, looking at Savannah, “You know what I could really go for right now, though? A good gin and tonic.”

“God that'd be great. You know what, let's make some. One glass can't hurt.”

She shrugged, “Sure, sounds fun. I’m down.” She looks around, “I know they keep the wine in that cabinet, but I haven’t found the liquor yet.”

After gathering our ingredients we get to work making the glasses, “so, what's your plan in all this?”

“In the selection?” She raises an eyebrow and then shrugs, she starts pouring things into the mixer bottle, “Stay here for as long as I can so I keep making stimulus checks, and then get sent home before I’m stuck spending the rest of my life here.” She finishes pouring and looks at Savannah, “You?”

I sighed, “about the same. Give the money to the non-profit I work for. I was hoping I could root for you to win, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders to influence him, but the more I think about it the more I realize that's like damning to hell.

She snorts, “Well, I still appreciate the compliment, and I would’ve said the same about you.” Then she sighs, “I’ve always known that it’s been like this, though. He gets to squander every penny he has on luxury shit, whereas my paychecks…” another sigh, “But life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah. And then waste the money on useless shit and trying to pass dumb laws like making 'cats' illegal instead of actually fixing the problems in this country.” I said and poured myself a glass of the drink.

She poured some for herself and then shook her head with an eye roll, “Don’t even get me started on that debacle. Why even joke about things like that?”

“Because he doesn't comprehend how the people of his own country are suffering. He's just so blind with privilege. Not that I have much to speak on but at least I freaking try to think about others in the country and their situations.”

She gave me a small smile, “You didn’t seem like the type to blow your money on worthless things to me, at all. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him when we have that interview in a few days.”

“Yeah I think im just gonna be polite for the sake of not causing a scene that'll haunt me my whole life” I said and took a sip, then clarified, “polite though, not kind.”

She nodded then drank too, “I really went from putting on one type of show for Twos to another.” 

“Any idea what you're gonna do as a three?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, “I haven’t taken a science or maths class since I was eleven, and I don’t have the money for university. I guess I could work as a translator, or if that doesn’t work out, marry a five and go back to dancing.” She took another sip of her drink, “Hopefully I’ll be here long enough to figure it out.”

“Do they not have like threes who are dance teachers? I haven't really looked much into the area myself but it may make sense.”

She shook her head, “For me, at least, it was mostly Russian immigrants who were former dancers themselves, so Fives.”

I thought for a moment, “Well if you ever need history lessons, english, or legal aid I'm around. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a business card, since it’s not like either of us plan to be here long,  “Just all the way up in Labrador. Where are you from again?”

“Allens. So, not too far. Thanks.” She replied and looked at the card.

“Welcome.” I replied, finished off my drink then wrote down another idea. 

Hadley narrowed her eyes curiously, “What are you writing?”

“Just an idea for a proposition with the ICLU. There are probably other girls in a similar situation as you being lower caste now upper be it through marriage or selection, it may be helpful to talk about implementing a caste readjustment program.”

She lifted her head, smiling just a little, “That sounds like a great idea.” Then a little quieter she added,  “I'd appreciate it.” 

“Hopefully my boss will agree and pass it onto the innovation department. I'll write a quick memo about it to her later.” I smiled happy to have something to do.

“You really love your job, don't you?” She asked. 

I nodded, “It makes me feel like I have some kinda purpose. As cheesy as that is to say.” Making actual change in Illea instead of just prancing around doing whatever else I could have grown up to do. 

“No, I get that.” She looked down, “As a kid, I never really felt like I belonged, but on the stage, dancing?” She looked a little distant, “Standing out was a good thing.”

I nodded,  “Mhm. Have you thought of ways you could continue working while at the palace?”

She smiled, “Actually, I had a conversation with Prince Eaton about that, and I’ve been able to work out a schedule that allows me to still practice, even though I have to do a little more work to catch up on lessons.”

“That'll be good. If you wanted too you could put on a performance and donate the profits. That way you could be working towards a goal too instead of general practice.”

She tilted her head, “That's an interesting idea. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I nodded, “Well it was nice meeting you, Lady Hadley. But it is probably time for me to get back to work.” Then held out my hand to shake goodbye.

She took it, giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you too.”

It was pretty late in the afternoon by the time I was escorted to the interview room. Damian was in a navy blue suit jacket, dress pants, and a white button up shirt. He smiled at me as I got closer.  His eyes flicker to my nametag for a second before he speaks, “Hello, Lady Savannah. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

I smiled trying to stay polite, then gave a small curtsy, “The same to you, your highness.”

He smiled back, taking a few steps back and gestured for me to go into the interview room. In the room is a sofa, surrounded by stage lights and a few cameras, what a romantic first meeting. There is one camera on a swivel stand, that is currently focused on Damian and I. He starts walking into the room, looking at me as he talks, "How have you found your first few days here, so far?"

I debated giving him a short one word answer of 'fine' but Danny's words of 'don't ruin your own happiness" slipped into my head. "They've been fine. I've enjoyed your library. It's helped me feel like I can in some ways continue working by catching up on legal matters normally outside of my areas of expertise."

He nodded while smiling then took a seat on the sofa, "So you're a lawyer, then? What kind of law do you practice?"

Reluctantly I sat next to him, hopefully I wouldn't catch an STD from proximity alone, "Yes, I practice primarily civil and criminal law with the Illean Civil Librities Union. So primarily defending people who are in bad situations due to outdated laws which need amending." My tone came out more passive aggressive than intended, but it was slightly justified as he should have been working to amend said laws and help people instead of partying.

"That's a great thing, to be doing. What got you into law?"

"Well I was at the University of Labrador. My best friend I'm the sorority I was in decided to go to a protest over women's rights in illea. We went, someone man came and antagonized some women, she defended herself verbally, got arrested, felt up by the officer, then was unable to do anything legally about it. I felt that was unfair so I decided to look into being a lawyer, liked the process, graduated in 2 years, went to Yale and here I am." 

He lets out a low whistle, looking down for a second. I couldn't help but be a but prideful at my accomplishment, then looks back up at me, more serious than before, his jaw tense, "I'm really sorry that happened to your friend." He said and fell silent. What a conversation killer. 

"It's fine." I said trying not to dwell on it, "How was your time in undergrad? Partied a lot, I saw." I said the passive agressiveness coming out again. 

He smiled, a little more relaxed than before, but not as relaxed as he was when he first entered the room, "I enjoyed my last few years of freedom before entering the real world, yes." He then raised his eyebrows, grinning a little wider, kind of teasing, "And what about you? Being in a sorority and all, I doubt you were much of a homebody yourself." 

I couldn't help but completely flush and bit down my urge to absolutely smack him upside the head. "It was a brief phase. It was fun. But also a waste of time." I chuckled a bit remembering my airheaded behavior in that year, "had I already been working harder I may have been able to finish faster and help more people."

He grinned a little at how flustered I was, which just made me want to punch him more, then smiled a little more genuinely towards the end, "We're still young. We have our whole lives to keep fixing things."

i frowned, "That isn't true. We never know when we're going to die. Something could always happen so we should be trying to help as much as we can. Not to mention while we" I paused after my slip of the tongue, but didn't correct it "partied in undergrad people were suffering who could have been helped."

There's a flicker of a frown on his face when I mentioned how short life is, but he lets it go, tilting his head when he looks at me, "We can't save everyone. That's impossible. We can try to do as much as we can, but there will always be more people in need of help.

"Partying isn't trying."

He raised his eyebrows, "You didn't even know you wanted to be a lawyer, back when you were partying in college."

I got kinda flustered again, he's right, there's no logically sound way to win. Yeah but I should have, I wish I had. Would have made the time a lot less regrettable." I said then cleared my throat, "Though, this is a bit of a heavy topic for our first meeting, don't you agree? Your- Damian." I barely corrected myself from saying Your Highness.

He chuckled, "A bit, but it's different from the surface level talk about work and provinces." He inclined his head, "Though, if you think about it, you never would have discovered your passion for law if you hadn't joined your sorority." He shrugged and gave a stupid grin which made me blush even more. 

Finally I snapped and turned to point a finger at him, "You won okay. I can't regret something if I didn't know to do something better, but that doesn't make topless jello shots any less of an embarrassing memory." I exclaimed then heard what I said and wished to curl into a ball and die. 

He chuckled a little, "We all have our moments. It's okay."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door then, and a guard pokes his head in. Damian nods at him, then turns and looks at me, "Unfortunately, we'll have to exchange stories another time. It appears our time today is up."

I sighed in relief at my rescue, then mumbled under my breath, "Thank God." I stood to curtsy, "Your-" I cringed a bit at the error, "Damian."

He chuckled again, "It was a pleasure to meet you Savannah. Until next time." He smiled at me when we got to the door, and stopped in the doorway.

I smiled back politely, "Thank you for the conversation. Till next time." 

*savy was taking a break from her work and decided to out for a walk in the gardens. She had always been a fan of taking runs when stressed snd the gardens were providing a peaceful alternative. She was walking around when she thought she saw a bunny in the bushes. Being the gal she is she wanted to see it closer so she stepped off the path and walked into the gravel. Immediately her heel sank in the gravel. She lost her balance for a moment but didnt fall. Instead she panicked. She debated stepping out of her shoes to get it out but she didnt wanna hurt her skin on the gravel. Instead she tried to wiggle it loose and hopped no one was near*

*rip savannah, but Damian is out distressing by playing basketball at that point in time, and from where he's standing as he shoots this basket, he can see someone clearly struggling with something in the gardens. he can't see who it is, or what the problem is, but he figures he should go check it out. he tucks the basketball under one arm, jogging towards the person he can see, calling out* Hey, everything okay?

*savannah hears him call out an knows immediately it's the last person in the world she'd want to find her like this* Absolutely peachy! *calls back and debates ditching the shoes*

*he slows to a stop when he gets closer, his eyes going from savannah's face to her foot* Mmm, looks like you've got yourself in a bit of a sticky situation, there.

*is extremely flustered* no situation at all. I said I'm fine. *aggressively wiggles the heel and almost trips so she squeaks but manages to catch herself*

*when he sees her almost trip, he lunges forwards to catch her before she hits the ground, but then she catches herself, so he's like "oh was that for nothing?" he looks down at the shoe, furrowing his brows, thinking* Here, let me help with that, before you actually fall.

I'm not going to fall and I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of defeating some gravel on my own

*he takes a step back* Alright... if you insist... *hes not going anywhere, just watching her, waiting to see what she'll do*

*huffs when she doesnt hear him walk away and continues to wiggle then huffs when shes not getting anywhere* Fine. If you're just going to stand there anyways you may as well help.

*he chuckles, setting the basketball down on the ground, kneeling down to look at the gravel and the heel, before beginning to dig the heel out with his fingers* Not the best shoes to walk off the path in.

*rolls her eyes* I didn't think about that. I thought I saw a bunny and got distracted

*he can't help but raise his eyebrows at that, grinning, twisting the heel a little to unscrew it from the gravel* Was it at least a cute bunny?

*his tone is a little teasing*

It was cute, be careful with your tone though when your face is near my foot. *once its free she steps back on the path so she doesn't sink again*

*he chuckles, joking* What, are you planning on giving me a royal nose job with your shoe?

You could probably use one. *offers a hand to help him stand back up*

*he picks up his basketball, taking her hand, still grinning at her, teasing* Maybe it's just the angle you've been looking at it from.

*stands on her tiptoes looking at his nose* Nope. It's a little off. Nose job it is.

*she pinches his nose* its a big flaw. Doubt you'll be able to get a wife like that

*he chuckles* I don’t know, my nose has never gotten in my way before

*considers* You're right, I'm sure that was just your sense of responsibility that got in the way.

*he raises his eyebrows* You know, I’ve never turned in an assignment late, or anything for work late. Never asked for an extension.

I somehow find that doubtful. Your reputation of being a loose partier precedds that of a responsible duitiful person.

Well, it’s the truth. *he shrugs* If you’re really curious, you could email my professors. It’s all about finding a balance. *he smiles*

*grumbles because he seems to be honest about it* What did you even study?

I dual majored in political science and marketing. You?

*sighs in relief* at least you werent a buisness major. Political Science and History for me on a prelaw track.

*he nods, smiling, genuinely curious* Did you prefer one over the other?

Probably political science. I mean I love history it's why I added it. For fun since it's just like learning stories and seeing the modern day impact of said stories. But political science felt more efficient. Like it helped me have a better understanding of the philosophy of political thinking which has helped me a lot in law. Plus I just liked the professors more.

*he smiles* Understandable. Good professors make it so much easier to learn the content

*smiles* yeah and lots and lots of highlighters. Did you have a favorite topic in political science?

*grinning* I took a really cool course on comparative political economies - I really like the economic side of things. That, and the classes I had to take on international politics. *he looks over at savannah* What about you?

Probably civil politics. I've always been a fan of civil work. I honestly thought about working for the AFEI instead of the ICLU but decided I wanted to do more personal legal work than policy legal work. But it's always been the work that has interested me more since it's important to bring up civil conflicts within the country and try to help as much as possible. But learning about where we came from in terms of The United States vs the civil policies of Illea was an interesting course for me, especially because of the overlap of History and Political Science.

*he nods as she talks, thinking that all over* I think work guided what classes I liked as well. Because beyond national politics, I also have to think about international politics, trade agreements, and maintaining Illéa’s position in the world.

*seems slightly surprised* so you actually liked your major? I assumed you just were kinda forced to pick it

I was kind of forced to, but I could still pick the classes that interested me more. *He shrugs* Plus I really enjoyed my marketing major.

*thinks for a moment* Can I ask you something and have an honest answer? No bullshit PR answer. I'm just trying to figure out if we can trust you to be our future king through this, at the very least.

Sure *he nods, pursing his lips a little* Ask away.

Do you actually want to be the king of this country? Like aside from the perks you have from it, do you care about the work?

I do care. *he pauses, swallowing* I really do. It’s just...it’s a lot of pressure to accept from a young age.

*she thinks for a moment* Noted. Thank you for your honesty. *Looks at the basketball* Do you play much?

*he smiles kind of sadly* Not as much as I used to. I’ve gotten a little busy helping to run the country, and such.

*gets an idea* Do you wanna make a bet with me?

*he grins* Depends on what it is

Basketball. I'm working on a program right now with the ICLU, a coworker wants to come visit me and discuss about it but appreantly work visits aren't allowed during this. If I can get more hoops in you'll arrange that?

*he furrows his brows* Better yet, I could just organize for your coworker to visit under the guise of another event going on. Just give me a few weeks to work out the details.

*kinda chuckles because shes competitive* oh? Youre scared you'll lose? But if that's what you prefer

*he laughs* No, I just know I’d win, and I’d hate to deny you the ability to see your coworker

Fine. You'll set up the meeting, then I'll just prove to you that I would win had their beem stakes.

*he narrows his eyes at her, extending a hand to shake, still grinning* Deal

*shakes it firmly then kicks off her heels planning to walk to the court barefoot.* Would be an unfair advantage for me to still be in them

*he raises his eyebrows* Why, they helped square up the height difference between us, at the very least *he chuckles*

*almost elbows him over that but barely stops herself* I don't need that help. I'm perfectly capable of crushing you independent of my shoes

*he laughs* I played basketball in uni, you know?

As did I. Well- not in a club. A guy who I was *ponders for a moment* acquainted with, played it therefore I played with him and his friends fairly often

*he raises his eyebrows* And how tall was your acquaintance? Because I’m used to playing with people my height, but also my mom and sister, who are - *he puts his hand somewhere around his shoulder because they’re 5’4” and 5’5”* - about this tall

He was around 6'3. His friends the same or more. Don't worry I'm well aware of the disadvantage of my height and very prepared to utilize it

*he chuckles* Oh, I’ve got to see this. *when they get to the court he starts dribbling the ball casually, walking towards the middle of the court* Do you want to start with the ball, or should I?

*thinks for a moment and puts her shoes down on the edge of the court and rolls up the bottoms of her dress pants a bit* You can start with it.

*he raises his eyebrows at her rolling up her dress pants, but he nods* Okay, if you insist. *he waits until he’s ready before starting the play*

*she walks up prepared to steal since she cant block*

*he starts dribbling more seriously, quickly maneuvering around her, taking three large steps with the ball, and then shoots a basket, and it goes in*

*she kinda huffs about that dislikes. But once he has the ball again she tries again, this time getting it and doing her UNDER THE LEGS MOVE AND SHOOTS*

*he turns around, a little in shock* That is not a legal move!

Hmmm *puts her finger to her chin very smug* I dont think it explicitly says in the rules that you're not allowed too. You use your height I'll use mine *VERY SMUG*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best 2 out of 3? Whoever gets this next shot wins, then

*SHES BEING COCKY NOW* Aw is the wittle princey calling it quits so soon? His fragile ego damaged? *bats her eyes teasingly*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best three out of five, then. *he starts dribbling the ball right from here he is, and it’s a long shot to his basket from there, but he’s pretty confident, so he goes for it, and somehow it actually goes in. he raises his eyebrows at her* Still think you’re gonna win?

*crosses her arms* That was luck. *goes to get the ball since shes closer*

Or just sheer skill. *he smirks a little*

*turns to face him just to roll her eyes and gets the ball. She then dribbles it back to the middle or something idk how basketball works*

*he follows her to the middle, standing in front of her, knees bent in that “ready” position idk wtf it’s called lmao*

*that position makes knees wide so she dribbles and goes to do her fast under the leg move again*

*he sees it coming this time, and takes a few steps back, keeps his arm in front of him to reach for the ball, which he gets, and then dribbles across to the the hoop he has to score in, taking the shot, and watching it go in again. he grabs the ball as it bounces back up, raising his brows at savannah* One more, or are you good? *he grins a little*

*huffs again and crosses her arm* Fine we'll call it at 3 to 1. But in my defense it's been awhile.

*he grins* Well, you’re always welcome to practice out here with me, if you want.

I can't tell if you're being taunting or not *rolls her eyes and walks up to him then holds out her hand to shake for the end of the game*

*he takes her hand and shakes, then gives her a genuine smile* No taunting. I mean it. I’d love to have someone new to play with.

I'll consider it then. I am getting slightly bored of your homes running path for exercise.

*smiles back even tho she doesnt wanna because it was a nice offer*

*he tilts his head from side to side* Yeah, the running trail through the gardens is kind of short. There are better ones /in/ Angeles, if you ever want to check them out

Not sure I'm allowed to just waltz on out of here, but I'd love the names of any you know. My grandmother lives near her so I'm sure I'll be visiting soon enough after this if not immediately so.

*he shrugs* I could also drive you sometime, if you want. I /do/ have a car.

*seems a bit surprised* You know how to drive?

*he furrows his brows* Of course! I got my license as soon as I was legally allowed to.

But its not like you need too? Don't you have like drivers?

*he looks a little confused and taken aback* I’m sure some exist, but why would I want someone else to drive me when I could be free and drive myself?

I'm not sure. I just know rich people, like for example my cousin *mumbles for a moment to find the phrasing* So my grandmother is in charge of the Mars Candy Corporation. My mom's older brother Nathaniel will be taking over it, his kids also my cousins all have drivers. They're like twenty something now but Jackson is always bragging about how he doesn't have to take the effort to drive himself places. I just assumed other people who could afford them would have them, especially busy people who could work instead of drive.

*he blinks* Wow, I never even would have considered that. *he shakes his head* No, I like driving. Being able to roll the windows down and blast the music...it’s like a few moments of freedom. *he shrugs, smiling a little sadly*

*she noticed the smile then something clicks* so freedom is your vice. You act out to feel free, thus the partying. You mentioned earlier the responsibility of being a prince being am influence on the partying. A lack of freedom makes sense. *she knows shes getting too personal but her curiosity and worry for the future gets the best of her* But what does that mean you're going to do when you're king? You'll have even less. How do you plan to maintain that restriction without bursting and needing freedom?

*he stiffens a little at her analysis because damn it’s spot on, but sighs towards the end* Getting as much out of life as I can now. I always knew what my future held for me. So I can plan accordingly. *he forces a small grin, trying to joke* Besides, with any luck, I’ll be old and almost out of energy by the time I’m king.

*furrows her eyebrows concerned* That doesn't work. *sighs* Believe me I'd know. But we aren't wired to run off memories. Instead we develop habits and coping mechanisms. Everyone snaps from time to time, you'll go back to what made you happy last. For you I assume that'll be partying. Which is something you can't do as king, and assuming it wont be till your old isn't right either, regardless of if that was a joke it's not something that you can lean on since millions of people could be relying on you and you'd be unprepared. You are going to be king, You are not going to have freedom, you are going to be under immense pressure and responsibility, honest answer, what are you going to do when you need to snap?

*he narrows his eyes at her, this time more out of irritation than anything else, and he’s a little sarcastic* Gee, thanks for the reminder. Though, for the record, I /haven’t/ partied since uni, and I have no plans to in the near future. So perhaps I’ll rely on my other coping mechanism, such as basketball, or taking a drive.

Yeah well it's the truth and uni wasn't that long ago. It's hard to break habits. I mean I partied like 4 times a month in undergrad and I still use it. That was forever ago but that's not how humans work. You're gonna lean on what you've leaned on. You're going to get shitfaced, you're going to want what you used to have, you're gonna idolize those times in uni and want them back. But you're not going to have it and it's going to be hard and shitty but you have to tough it out because of the country that relies on you and this is proving to me that you're not going to be a reliable King for the people who need you.  

[justjessame]

If Only Someone Looked At Me Like They Look At Guns 1

When I bought the secondhand bookstore in South Boston, my dad thought I'd lost my mind. What was I, a native West Virginian, going to do all alone in Boston? Sell books, I'd thought. And live my life, finally, I added.

I had spent a healthy portion of my life being the perfect daughter. The one who gave and gave and made sure that I did everything in my power to make my parents proud. I gave everything to everyone, until there was little left for myself. Now, at thirty years old, I could finally have something for myself.

Besides which, have you ever seen Boston? It's gorgeous and colorful. However, when my dad helped me move into the apartment I'd leased within walking distance to my new, old store "As the Page Turns" he wasn't impressed.

"Really, Tessa?" He asked, looking around. "You're going to be homesick. This place is too noisy, it's too dirty. You're going to miss good ol' West Virginia."

Dirty and noisy? Coal mines, I thought, and the plants that made it smell or shot smoke up into the air weren't the same? Instead of arguing, I diverted him with the manual labor of the move. "You going to help me with this bed, Dad? Or should I ask a neighbor?" That got him moving.

It didn't cure his nagging. Not before he headed home, nor after he'd arrived. It made the weekly phone calls a bit of a hassle. I wanted to talk about how I was making my store a success. He wanted to bring up the things I'd left behind. I wanted to discuss the changes I made as the money started to come in earnest. He wanted to listen for a sign of homesickness. Not a call passed without at least one, "You ready to come home yet?"

Two years, I thought, walking to work in the early morning sun. I was smiling. I loved my life. I was busy. I made the store a reasonable success, adding a coffee bar and pastries to the space. And I had regulars and new customers almost daily. Success was sweet, I thought, as I unlocked the beveled glass front door and listened to the comforting jingle of the bell.

The phone rang almost as soon as I dropped my bag behind the counter. Since I wouldn't be opening for another half an hour, I had a pretty good guess of who was calling.

"Morning, Dad!" I answered, taking the cordless phone with me to start up the coffee and espresso machines. I wondered if his call would be over by the time my daily pastry delivery came. "What's up?"

"Tessa, you shouldn't answer the business phone like that." He admonished. Great start, Dad, I thought. "Why don't you have your cell phone on?"

Ugh, I thought, the chastisement with a side of criticism. Lucky me.

"My Blackberry is in my pocket. I must not have heard the call come in." I answered. "Sorry, Dad." Tessa, I thought, stop fucking apologizing, you're an adult. "How are you? Is something wrong?"

I heard him sigh. "Yes, in Boston."

"What?" I asked, wandering the store to make sure I'd put everything in order when I'd closed the evening before. The counters were clean, the leftover pastries went to the soup kitchen nearby, and the shelves were stocked and orderly.

"Don't you read or watch the news?" Irritation was so heavy on his voice that I could feel the glare across states. Why couldn't my parents have had another child so I could share this guilt and misery? "Those vigilante murderers are back in Boston. I think you should come home."

I rolled my eyes. "Dad, I do watch the news. It's just been busy. This past week's been insane." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension build. "And why would I care about vigilantes? Didn't they kill mob people? I sell used books and coffee." Logic, I thought, would hopefully work. "Why would I be in danger?"

"Tessa, they killed a priest." He groaned. "Why wouldn't you listen to me before running away to Boston?"

Running away? I was thirty years old when I relocated, for fuck's sake. "Dad, I'm not Catholic, nor are you." I reminded him gently. "I'm certainly not a priest." I let out a sigh I hadn't noticed I was holding. "I'm fine. I'm happy." The stress moved from my shoulders to my neck belying my words. "I'll be safe. Besides, I highly doubt they've returned. And even if they had, they couldn't be stupid enough to come back to their old stomping grounds."

Another sigh and groan from his end. "You never used to be this stubborn." Yeah, because I was too busy making sure everyone else was happy. "Didn't you tell me the bar they used to frequent was close to your store?"

Damn it. Why had he remembered that tidbit in all that I'd told him about my store? Why couldn't he recall how excited I'd been at finding the rare book one of my customers had asked for? And why had I thought sharing the 'local colorful history' of my new home with my overbearing dad? In my defense, I didn't know that someone would kill a priest.

A tap came to the front door and I nearly cheered at the interruption. "Dad, I have to go, my pastries are here." Rushing through another round of I'll be safe and ending with round of "I love yous".

I let out another sigh and ran to unlock the door. The jingle of the bell calmed me a bit as Marco, the bakery's delivery guy came in with the first load of boxes. As I rolled my shoulders and tried to crack my own neck to release the tension, Marco left for the second and last load. After checking to make sure everything was accounted for, I offered him his usual tip. A double espresso.

"Ah, that hits the spot, Tess." He smiled. "You ok?"

I assured him I was fine and we chatted about this and that.

"Better hit the road. Don't want the boss to get pissed." He said, tossing the small cup in the trash. "See ya tomorrow." I waved him out.

"Could you flip my sign?" I asked, and he smiled and did it. "Later, Marc."

I moved to fill the pastry case. Using the decorative towers and plates that I'd picked up at one of the Farmer's Market stalls. The jingle of the bell made me raise up and offer my usual greeting. "Welcome to As the Page Turns, can I help you?"

He was taller than me, but then again almost everyone was. His incredibly blue eyes crinkled with a smile as he took me in behind the counter. The pastry boxes were almost all empty and the display was filled. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a loose v-neck brown t-shirt, and a pair of canvas sneakers. My auburn hair piled loosely into a bun on the top of my head and my ever present and much needed glasses perched on my nose, not thick enough to hide my green eyes.

Since he was clearly inventorying my assets as it were, I decided to do the same for him. Dark hair, looking like he'd used shears to cut it in the dark, crowned his head. His skin was sun kissed but not tan, and he wore a peacoat, black t-shirt, jeans, and boots. I could see a bit of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his coat on the left side of his neck. Another tattoo was on his right hand, along his index finger. A word, "AÈQUITAS". Huh, Latin. Justice? I felt a tingle of curiosity.

His smile turned to a smirk and I waited, raising an eyebrow under my glasses. I had my usual customer service smile on, but felt a little smirk of my own forming. Both confirming our inspection of the other, and finding it agreeable. He finally spoke.

"'Eard dis wus de place fer a master coffee on dis street." His Irish brogue is full and strong.

"Did you now?" I asked, my smile widening. "Whose singing my praises?"

"Doc." Ah, I thought. The sweet, if a bit different, owner of Mcginty's Bar, the place my dad had brought up in his call.

"What can I get you?" I asked, grinning at the thought of how many day drinkers Doc sent my way to sober up. This man, however, looked like he had recently woken up. Perhaps,he had a late night, if the slight red in the white of his eyes were telling the tale properly.

"Two av the largest black coffee yer 'av. Strong." He answered. A late night then, I smiled.

"Shot of espresso sounds in order." His eyebrows raised. "Don't look alarmed, I'll add it to the regular coffee." I turned to the machine behind me and started the two cups. "How is Doc?" I asked over the noise and my shoulder.

"'E's gran. Jammers, oi tink." Jammers, I thought, trying to make sense of the words he used. Traffic jams came to mind so I translated that Doc was busy. I had plenty of Irish immigrant customers, and I was slowly learning some of their vernacular. It was rough going, but interesting.

Capping the two large cups with black lids and sliding them into the brown sleeves that would protect my customers from burning themselves on the heat pouring from the hot coffee inside, I turned. "Well, tell him I'll try to stop over this afternoon with his favorite treat." I handed him the coffee. "Are you new in town?"

He shot me a strange look, but seeing me waiting behind the till, he gave another grin. "Aye, just visitin' for business." He chuckled at his own joke. "Ye new? Yisser accent is different."

I had heard that a great deal when I moved here. "Yep, I'm from West Virginia." My smile stayed in place. He's an odd duck, I thought, but Doc never sent me anyone dangerous or violent, so I felt safe. "Hope you enjoy your visit." I told him his total and he handed me a large bill. Opening the register to give him his change he waved me off.

"Naw, lassy, that's for yer." His smile was sweet, but the tip was twice as much as his coffees cost. I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me again. "Naw, oi ill in my brown 'ear it. Doc acts loik de sun shines from yer side av de street an' oi can tell why. Yer take care av 'imself, an' we take care av ours."

"Doc's a sweetheart. He reminds me of my late grandpa." I answered, smiling at the jist of what he said. "It's no hardship to check in on him." I put the extra cash under the drawer. If this strange man came back, his coffee was paid for. "I'm Tessa, by the way." I held out my hand.

"Murphy." He answered, simply, taking my hand. His hands were calloused and rough. Like the men I was raised around and the ones working in the factories here.

"Nice to meet you, Murphy." I said, my smile genuine.

The bells on the door jingled again. Another strong Irish voice called out before I could give my standard greeting. "So that's wha yer were- keepin' company wi' a juicy lassy instead av bringin' de coffee, yer arse."

I looked up and the usual greeting caught in my throat. Dear Lord, I thought, the dim light of the store allowing the beams of early morning sun to settle around the newcomer like a halo. Sun bleached brown hair, cut as haphazardly as Murphy's, light blue eyes, and scruff on the planes of his tanned face. Clearing my throat and my mind of how beautiful he was, I finally found my voice.

"Welcome to As the Page Turns." Jesus, why did I sound squeaky and breathless at the same time? "Guess one of these is yours?" I gestured at the two cups on my counter.

He turned his full attention to me and my mouth went dry as I watched him take the same inventory of me as Murphy had. Only this time I felt inadequate. I fought the urge to squirm.

"Damn it, Conner, stop starin' at 'er loike she's bill skinner. She looks loike a colt ready ter bolt." Murphy's voice broke the weird hold. 'Bill skinner'? I wondered. The horse bit I completely understood.

I cleared my throat again. "So, Connor, is it?" I asked, holding out the same hand that Murphy had shaken. "Visiting for business as well?"

Connor, the archangel of beauty choked on his own tongue as he took my hand and shot a look at Murphy. They were silent for a beat, my hand locked in the calloused heat of Connor's while they stared at each other. Great, pretty, but another weirdo.

"Aye, business." He answered, a smile and chuckle as he returned to face me. "An' yer are?"

I really wished I knew the joke. That had these two laughing every time I mentioned business.

"'Er name is Tessa. Whaich yer wud 'av known if ye'd gotten oyt av scratcher and cum wi' me, loike oi tried ter git yer ter." Murphy answered, smirking.

Connor released my hand and I leaned my hip against the counter. "Are you business partners?" I asked, wondering what type of business they could be in. Rough hands, sun kissed skin, peacoats, hair that looked like a blind barber and blunt shears created the cut weren't usually what I'd associate with business travel. They could be sailors, I supposed.

Connor and Murphy laughed. Each picking up a cup of coffee. Murphy with his right hand, Connor with his left. "Business partners?" Connor smiled, taking an appreciative sip. "Naw, brothers."

Murphy sipped his own. Closing his eyes and sighing in gratitude. "Twins in fact." He added, opening his eyes.

Connor took another drink from his cup. He moaned indecently and it made my stomach clench. "Dis coffee is rapid. Yer 'av a gift. An' I'm jealous yer git ter enjoy it al' de time."

It was my turn to laugh. "Oh, I don't drink coffee." The look of horrified disbelief on both their faces was priceless. "I make it. I love the scent of it, but drink it?" I shuddered. "No thanks."

Murphy's eyebrows rose. "'Oy can yer make it if yer allerge it?"

Connor chipped in, shaking his cup. "An' make it taste loike dis?"

I noticed the ink on his hand as he shook the cup. Another word tattoo. "VERITAS" I reached into my tiny bit of high school Latin. "Truth," I said out loud, startling all of us. I blushed as their eyes fell to mine. I swallowed. "The truth is- my parents love coffee. When my mom died, I learned to make a decent cup so my dad could wake up to it. Worked as a barista for a bit. Still hate the taste."

Connor's eyes burned into me, making me curious again about the two of them. "Konnor, perestan' pyalit'sya, ty yeye pugayesh'." Murphy broke the silence in a murmur. The language sounded almost guttural. Russian? Strange.

Connor's eyes never left me as he answered. "Notò la mia mano, Murphy. Pensi che chiamerà la polizia?" The language he'd chosen sounded more lyrical. Wait, 'polizia'? Police?

I cleared my throat. "Well, this has been- interesting." I smiled, hoping to defuse whatever tension was between the three of us. "Could you please let Doc know I'll be over around lunch?" I asked, needing time to process. Hoping desperately they'd take the hint.

Murphy spoke again, tugging his twin away from the counter. "Naw problem, lassy. We'll be 'appy ter let 'imself nu. Say take 'er 'andy, Connor."

"Clap yer lay-ra, lass." Connor said, allowing his brother to steer him out the door, Murphy shooting me a wave.

Well, then, I thought. Going back to the pastry display, I started clearing the empty boxes. What the hell was all that?

Russian translation from Murphy: Connor, stop staring. You scare her.

Italian translation from Connor: She noticed my hand, Murphy. Do you think she'll call the police?

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x07 - Como La Flor

Apologies for being so late this week!! Lots of translating to do, and research. Mucho gracias to @queenrikki for reviewing this one for me!

EPISODE SUMMARY:

OLD WOUNDS — Liz (Jeanine Mason) is forced to revisit a painful part of her past when her mother Helena (guest star Bertila Damas) shows up at the diner unexpectedly. Michael (Michael Vlamis) urges Maria (Heather Hemmens) to seek help after she experiences a strange vision, and Kyle’s (Michael Trevino) attempt to get Steph (guest star Justina Adorno) to open up doesn’t go as planned. Finally, Helena’s arrival in Roswell sends Rosa spiraling. Nathan Dean and Lily Cowles also star. Barbara Brown directed the episode written by Danny Tolli & Carolina Rivera (#207). Original airdate 4/27/2020. 

DETAILS:

Max and Isobel both describing to Rosa how it feels to use (and control) your powers.

Isobel:

"Ground your intention.  Feel the current running through your body, your hands guiding it with purpose."

Max:

"Okay, draw energy from your spine…"

Arturo on Rosa:

"I heard a little mouse crying in her room this morning."

Escamoles - like Liz says in the episode, they're ant larvae. One article I found called them "the Caviar of the Mexican desert". 

Helena calls Liz "mi corazón", which means "my heart".

"Arturito, te ves bien."

Arturo, you look good.

Adding "ito" to someone's name in Spanish can both be positive or negative.  It can refer to smallness or also tenderness (like an affectionate pet name).

@tasyfa pointed out that there was a little timeline error in this scene.  Arturo says that he hasn't seen Helena in 7 years, since Jim Valenti's funeral, but last season it was established in 1x12 that Valenti died in 2014.  Also, remember the show is a year behind reality right now, so it's still 2019. So off by 2 years.

The reason for Helena's visit - transferring her ownership of the Crashdown for Liz so that Liz can sponsor Arturo's residency for citizenship. I did a lot of research trying to understand and clarify why this is.  Thanks to those who weighed in when I was struggling to find a clear answer. Eventually I reached out to Define American, the non-profit org that provides support to the show on racial and immigration related issues.  Here's the response:

The short version is that Liz has to meet minimum income requirements in order to sponsor Arturo, because she has to be able to certify that she can financially support him.  Since she's currently unemployed except for the Crashdown, transferring half of the ownership to her makes her a business partner and helps her to meet the income requirements. 

The Spanish:

"¿Cuánto quieres, Mamá?" 

How much do you want, Mama?

"She has a very thoughtful manicure."

If you don't understand, it's cool. I'm not going to explain here.  Feel free to DM me though! I won't judge, promise!!

Narrative thread about Max's nightmare/memory continues from 2x03 and 2x06.  Don't forget that 2x03 was just Isobel remembering it. Max was a hallucination. So when he brings it up here, it might be something they haven't discussed in a very long time.

The Spanish from Rosa on her red jacket:

"Eres una mujercita."

Basically translates to you're a little woman or young woman.  I assume the "cita" is supposed to be diminutive here.

"Mom is an opportunist.  If she found out she had a kid who came back from the dead she would use you to get to Anderson Cooper. And then she'd use him to promote her latest lounge singer gig."

"Isobel pays double.  Becky tax." 

A Becky, according to common colloquial use, is an annoying white woman, usually entitled and privileged.

Lead bartender quit..meaning there's a job opening at the Pony…hmm. Wonder if any of our characters need a job... 🤔

Maria's vision:

Michael drops the change

Flash to Kyle dropping his keys & bending down to pick them up.

Kyle staring into a bright light.

Maria shouting his name.

"My heart was broken.  Liz ended things and a part of me died."

Max's story to Valenti… not all THAT far off from the truth.

Note: has anyone told him about Valenti investigating him? We know Liz and Isobel were questioned.  Michael was present when Liz was questioned. Kyle knows the whole theory his mom was pursuing. And he just wanders in there like nothing happened?

"Try leading several short staffed investigations with the mayor breathing down your neck."

Another subtle reference to the mayor, including the election banners hung around town in S2 and his "anti-immigrant agenda" which was referenced in S1.

Max has been with the department since he was 18 - this is the first time we learned that.  In 2x05 we learned he was there at 21. So that timeline has now been further clarified. Which also means he was hired during Jim Valenti's time as Sheriff.

"I need eyes on you at all times now."

Definitely implies a lack of trust, or possibly still wanting to keep an eye on him for the purpose of her investigation (not a fact, just a theory).

Steph tells Kyle that she's always hanging around the hospital because she's doing admin work for her dad.

"I'm starting to feel like you're a ghost who only I can see."

"Ask them if they can see me. Or if you were just talking to a ghost." 

Note that ghosts have been a running theme this season with Rosa returning from the dead. This seems to be in line with that. Or are they subtly tying Steph to Rosa (I'm grasping at straws here, probably).

Liz leaves the safe on 3...but before she changes it is on 81. Helena leaves it on 78 after stealing the ring. Good continuity, RNM!

The whole "my mom hates cops" theme is a little confusing to me.  I mean, it makes sense given what we know about Helena. Except that she had an affair with Jim Valenti, who was… a cop. And also an addict.  Maybe it was different because they rehabbed together (just an assumption, not a fact). Or maybe the Jim experience contributed to her dislike of cops.

Liz...might be grasping at straws when she refers to police work as "something you love" to Max.  He didn't exactly seem enamoured by the job when we first met him in Season 1.

First time we learn Max and Isobel's father's name. And it is… Dave. 🤔

The Spanish Helena uses when she meets Max:

"Pero que guapo estas."

But how handsome you are.

"Cuidado Arturito."

Careful, Arturo…

Helena found Liz and Diego's wedding registry online. 

“Look there are medical reasons for non-drug-induced hallucinations - epilepsy, schizophrenia…”

“My mom has a degenerative brain disease. My grandma did too. I've always known I'd be next.”

Helena wanted to be Selena.

Which fits with Liz's lounge singer comment earlier.

And the "drunkenly singing in the car with your daughters in the backseat" fits with the story Liz and Rosa discussed in 2x02 about the car accident they got into as kids with Helena driving drunk.

Helena shows Liz her ten years sober chip, suggesting that she's been sober since Rosa died, but Rosa finds pills in Helena's car later in the episode.  Oxycodone. The same drug that Rosa used to steal from her mom as a kid (which we learned about in 2x04) and the same drug that she and Kyle discussed when he was checking her health in 2x01.

During Helena's toast to Rosa:

Preciosa = precious

Rosa Linda… still not sure personally if this is a continuity error or a pet name.  I’m inclined to go with a pet name. Throughout the whole episode Helena uses lots of pet names, nicknames, diminutives to address people. Rosa Linda may be just another version of this since Rosa's middle name was pretty well established as Helena in Season 1 between her grave, memorial pamphlet, etc.

Kyle calls attention to Steph's bandage on her arm.  She says she gave blood, but it feels like she's evading.

Also she calls him McDreamy, which is a Grey's Anatomy reference. Kyle called himself McSexy (another Grey's nickname) in 1x08 as well.

Note: I've seen some people talk about the speech about his sick friend as being about Maria, but I think he's really talking about Steph.  Or both, vaguely. He's certainly trying to get Steph to open up to him. Here's what he says:

"I just found out a friend of mine is sick. And I can't do anything to help her. And I hate feeling helpless."

Only after Steph puts her walls back up, does he gesture to Mimi's files.

The Spanish:

"Oh, ándale, gùero."

Ándale is like, go! Or let's go! Gùero we discussed earlier...basically white boy.

Por favor - please 

Rosa's art that we first saw in 2x05 now looks finished:

Isobel's graffiti "In Pod We Trust"

Both Isobel and Rosa's graffiti:

Isobel's assessment of Rosa's art

"That's a black hole. An unstoppable force of destruction. And it's getting closer. I see a girl looking into her own doom. She thinks it's inevitable, that she can't stop it, but she can. See, she created it. That means she can destroy it."

Rosa on Isobel's efforts to help her:

"You and Max, you keep talking about harnessing emotion and grounding myself, right? But I can't do that.  It is in my DNA to be screwed up. Literally. My mom's mentally ill. So, so am I. I was broken long before Noah did what he did. That's why he chose me to prey on.  That's probably why he chose you too."

Maria on her grandmother:

"When I was a child my Grandma Patty was the only adult who understood my make-believe world. Thing is, I was six.  So my favorite things about her were just illness, I guess…"

Maria on her mom:

"She was always kind of out there.  By the time I realized it was more than that, I just became obsessed with money. Wanted to be able to take care of her. I invested everything Grandma Patty left me, and I worked, scrounged.  It was about three days after my mom was finally fired from her job at the Pony, I bought the place."

Maria's blood does not contain the alien protein that Kyle found in the Pod Squad and Rosa after being in the Pod for a decade. (and yes, he actually said Pod Squad, which feels like an OG fandom victory)

"Look, there is one thing I noticed in your grandmother's file. Her insurance company is the same one that paid for my dad's cancer treatments...My dad got cancer because of an alien incident at Caulfield Prison. A fake insurance company established by Project Shepherd covered his bills."

"Okay so my grandmother got sick at the same alien prison where your mother died?"

More Spanish (there's lots of it this week).

Helena, when she gestures to the present:

"Abre tu regalo."

Open your gift.

Quinces is just slang for Quinceanera.

Just in case you're not familiar with quinceaneras (Liz's was also referenced in 1x02).

"Mija, me enseñas tus prom photos?"

Daughter, show me your prom photos.

Regarding the power outage.  Liz thought it was Max. Max thought it was Rosa. But the wire is frayed, like it was cut or chewed through. So it wasn't alien power related.  When Arturo finds the wire though, he says, "Must have been a little mouse." Which is how he referred to Rosa earlier in the episode. So the question is, does he actually think it was a mouse? Or does he think Rosa cut the wire? And if Rosa did cut the wire, then why? To distract them while she goes after her mom's car?

In the big Liz/Helena argument, Helena calls Max “a güerito cop”.  Güero means white person, similar to the more commonly used gringo.  But by adding the “ito” onto the end (like discussed before), Helena is basically diminuitizing Max.  She’s using the “smallness” above to basically imply that he’s some white nobody.

“I may not be the PTA mom who made cookies for bake sales or hosted sleepovers, but I sacrificed everything to come to this country to give you a better life.”

This is...not actually true.  Liz and Rosa are both natural born U.S. citizens, born in Roswell.  So she didn’t “come to this country” for that reason. She was already here when Liz and Rosa came into the picture.  And it’s not like she came pregnant with Rosa or anything, since Rosa is Jim Valenti’s daughter.

The ring that Helena took was ARTURO'S mother's ring.  It wasn't even Helena's family's heirloom.   

Liz and Arturo sharing flan for dessert.  At the start of the episode before Helena arrived they discussed making flan for Rosa.

Arturo admits that he always knew the truth about Rosa's heritage. (*fistpump* that's one of my headcanons coming true). 

"Rosa es mi hija, siempre y para toda la vida."

Rosa is my daughter, always and for life.

"Maybe you're right. I am playing the hero. Just like you're playing the politician's perfect arm candy.  See, I did a little digging. And your boyfriend, Dirk-- he ran for city council. It's very impressive. But there's no mention of your daughters. I'm guessing Dirk doesn't even know about Liz or Rosa.  Does he know anything about you, Helena? 'Cause it would be such a shame if he found out about a little town called Roswell."

Helena gives Max the ring, but keeps the box… maybe that's what Helena really wanted?

Huevos = eggs.  Basically, slang for balls.

"I know that face.  You uncovered a massive conspiracy."

"I checked the Caulfield drives. No sign of a Patricia DeLuca, but there was a Patricia Harris. Her maiden name. She signed up to participate in an experimental trial. Government was interested in weaponizing alien abilities. They wanted to create super soldiers. Your grandma was one of the first human subjects."

"Kind of wish I was an alien instead."

"What happened to the experiment?"

"It was a total failure. Caulfield shut it down in the '70s after people started dying. I don't understand how your grandmother got involved."

"I do. Henrietta Lacks, Tuskegee, Holmesburg.  The DeLucas aren't the first black people to be secretly experimented on."

Highly encourage you to read these if you're unfamiliar with any of these references.  It's African-American history (and really a black mark on U.S. history) that's rarely taught in schools.

Henrietta Lacks:

Tuskegee:

Holmesburg:

Reality versus Maria's flashes… great gifset by @rosaortecho on this here:

Kyle rips his jacket, staggers out to the parking lot, drops his keys, and is almost hit by a car, but Michael throws him out of the way with his powers (and Kyle still ends up injured because he lands on a glass bottle).

"Now that we know your illness is related to Caulfield we can find a cure for it."

"Maybe it's not an illness. I saw the future today, Guerin. When I first found out Grandma Patty was experimented on, I was furious.  But what if my genetic inheritance isn't just injustice? It's also actual superpowers. Saved a life today. And not just any life-- Kyle Valenti's. Tomorrow he's gonna turn around and save five more lives."

Liz and Rosa's dueling big sister act is super fascinating.  Rosa admits that she wasn't going to burn the car, and then she saw Liz crying, felt helpless, and that's when her powers went all wacky and caused it to explode.

Meanwhile, Liz has spent the whole episode trying to keep Rosa safe from Helena, and is trying to comfort her here by talking about Helena's sobriety.

But--Rosa stole Helena's pills, so she knows Helena is not sober, and she doesn't tell Liz that.  Why? To protect her.

At some point these two should probably stop keeping secrets to protect each other and start actually sharing what they know.

Kyle stitches himself up.

Steph quoted in this scene:

"I was up in the gallery contemplating American downfall thanks to progressive socialism."

"People tend to bail when things get real. I'm not into that."

Cameron's car was impounded a couple hours away.

Max is turning in his badge and gun and is turning down desk duty to search for Cam.

Isobel and Michael's discussion at the Pony:

"Do you think that Noah chose me because I was already broken?"

"I think you are the only one of us who ever keeps it together."

"I'm serious, Michael. The night that drifter attacked me, why am I the only one who started blacking out? I mean, Max literally murdered a man, but I'm the one who breaks?"

"You were traumatized. We were kids. At that age, trauma gets etched on to your soul."

"But what if it's not in my soul? What if it's in my DNA? Look, my whole life, I've played Stepford wife, because I thought that's what I was supposed to do. But...I need to understand myself now. I need to know where I'm from.  And if I don't know who my biological parents are, how am I ever gonna know who I really am?" 

"What are you saying, Iz?"

"I know that we said we shouldn't look into the past, but…"

"It keeps pulling you back. Me too. I spent my whole life thinking I'd build a ship and blast off into the ether. And then the minute I decide to leave that all behind and focus on this good thing in front of me, I'm sucked back in. Maria's family was experimented on at Caulfield. I need to find out more so I can find a cure for her illness."

Rosa takes one of her mom's pills. 😭

MUSIC:

1. Cactus Groove "This World"

2. Shelly Fairchild "Drive"

3. Mathis Hunter "Mrs. Vinegar"

4. Big Stone City "Good For Zero"

5. Big Stone City "Way Down Below"

6. Selena "Bidi Bidi Bom Bom"

7. Elizabeth Moen "Best I Can Do"

8. Wagons "Keep Coming Back"

9. AG "Where Is My Mind" (Pixies Cover)

[cookinguptales]

I've a small query (if it doesn't float your boat, no worries!) I was interested in how you got into learning languages, what led you to it? I've become curious since learning a new language as an adult has only increased my awe of multilingual folk (additionally, I vaguely remember a post about a request in exchange for a donation to charity, and wondered if there were any you'd like a donation to)

First of all, good luck with the language learning! It’s not easy as an adult, but I do think it’s worth it, both in terms of cultural fluency and brain elasticity.

My answer to the language thing is actually extremely complicated, so I’ll be putting it under the cut. I’ll put the charity stuff above the cut so more people can see it.

— I’d just like to warn you, though, before I start, that I have been locked in this house for over a month with no respite and I HAVE A LOT OF WORDS AND FEELINGS IN ME SO THIS POST HAS SO MANY OF BOTH OF THOSE THINGS!!

anyway

There are so many charities that I want to donate to now that it honestly makes my head spin. Every time I look at a site like GoFundMe it kind of makes me want to cry. So a lot of donations I’ve made have been to like local businesses, restaurants, etc. who will close down without help. (Also a lot of local native groups, who are disproportionately suffering right now.) I’ve also been donating to various food banks — Philabundance, a Philly-centric charity that deals with food insecurity in general, is a good one. That was a regular of mine even before the outbreak. I’ve also donated to a lot of the local services in the small town where I’m in now, though you’ll need to PM me if you want the name of that. (It’s… very small.) 

Off Their Plate is another great charity that’s been working with small restaurants (who can’t open for business) to get food to first responders. They’re partnered with World Central Kitchen, which is another fantastic charity that helps out during disasters. Plus well-known ones like Feeding America, No Kid Hungry (important while school is out and kids aren’t getting breakfast/lunch there), Direct Relief, etc.

(I uhhh may have overstrained my charity budget the past couple months. It’s odd how that adds to stress and relieves it at the same time.)

I tend to avoid religious charities, especially Salvation Army, because they’re occasionally discriminatory in how they distribute resources and we no longer have laws & oversight to make sure they don’t do shady shit. So I just avoid them in general now. I also avoid the American Red Cross because they’ve been known to misuse funds. Research is key!

I also worry about some of my regular charities, like Immigration Equality & Rainbow Railroad (helps LGBTQ people in dangerous countries immigrate to less dangerous ones), the Native American Rights Fund, various local abortion funds, RAICES (provides legal services to immigrants & refugees), the ACLU, Dysautonomia International, the Rainforest Action Network, etc… A lot of them are getting fewer donations than they’re used to because we’re in the middle of such life-shattering events.

If you are really interested in making a donation (please, please, please do) those are all good options. I also fully recommend looking up needy organizations, services, people, etc. in your own area. I try to donate to a healthy mixture of national/international organizations, local needs, and temporary issues du jour. (Disaster relief, bail funds for protesters, fighting new discriminatory laws, etc.) I would genuinely appreciate any donations, especially if you find a cause near and dear to your heart that I would never even hear about. Anything along these same lines, y’know? If you have anything you’d like me to do in return, just hmu.

I constantly stress about who to donate to — there are so many good organizations and so few dollars to give them — but at a certain point, every dollar to a cause you believe in counts. Every dollar you donate helps to make the world a little bit better for at least one person. That’s what I have to tell myself to calm myself down, haha. So even the smallest donation you make to any of these groups would mean a lot to me.

Anyway, onto the language stuff:

For me personally, I grew up bilingual. Deafness runs in my family, so I learned sign language from a very young age. Note: I say “sign language” rather than ASL. I learned sign language kind of organically, which ended up making a mess later in life. My parents mostly taught me, but so did my daycare (at a deaf school) and so did my babysitters and so did other family members, etc. The point is, not all of them used the same sign language. There was a wide mixture of ASL, SEE, and home signs and my current signing style is… problematic. lmao. My family all understands it (hey, they taught it to me) and I can have conversations with American sign language users, but I know they can’t love my signing lmao. I’ve considered sitting down and taking a legit ASL class for years, but there are so many classes I want to take… I don’t know.

After that, it largely became a case of taking languages whenever they were made available to me. I’ve always liked them. We moved around a lot when I was a preteen so I went to a lot of different schools. (4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th grade were all different schools.) It was rough at home and hard to make friends so I guess I threw myself into academics a lot. My sixth grade school was an odd one; it was a 6-8 grade school and you were supposed to take a crash course in three different languages in sixth grade so you could choose one and take it in 7th and 8th grade. I ended up taking Spanish, French, and German that year. I liked French best! But then we moved so it was kind of moot. (And I hated German, sorry Germans. My mouth doesn’t like the noises. It didn’t help that my teacher was weirdly sympathetic to Nazi-era Germany…? But I guess that’s another post.)

When we moved to Florida, you had to have special permission to take language classes in 7th grade. (FL doesn’t have great academics.) But since I’d already had some Spanish in NC, they let me take it! And then I moved schools again. This new school, my 8th grade school, I’d be in until I graduated 12th grade years later — but the employee turnover at that school was almost comedically bad?  I took Spanish for like a year and a half there and had three different teachers. So at this point I’d had 5 different Spanish teachers, all from different countries (where they spoke slightly different Spanish!), all reteaching the same ideas over and over again because they didn’t know where the last teacher had left off. In the end, my last Spanish teacher sent me to the school library with some textbooks because he felt like I was very good at languages and he couldn’t adequately teach me in the environment he’d been thrown into. (My high school was very terrible. So he was right.)

SO I SWITCHED TO FRENCH. I took French for 3-4 years in high school (can’t remember when I started) but the same shit started happening. By the last year, my French teacher had the French I, II, III, and IV students IN THE SAME CLASS and she just put the advanced students in small groups and had us do independent study. Sigh… Around this same time, I started three other languages. At this point, I was getting kind of accustomed to self-study so I applied for a Latin class in the Florida Virtual School and took a year of that. I also spent a summer studying at the University of Chicago when I was 16-17 and learned Middle Egyptian then. (Yes, I was an ancient cultures nerd even back then.)

The Japanese has always been an odd case. Like I said, my 8-12 education was fairly terrible. They had this thing where they used a computer program to teach kids math and the teacher kind of taught along? When I transferred to the school in the middle of 8th grade, the teacher didn’t know what to do with me so he just plopped me in front of a computer and told me to do as much as I could. They started me in… Pre-Algebra, I think? Which I’d already taken in sixth grade. So I ended up getting through Pre-Algebra, Geometry, Algebra, and Algebra II, which… wasn’t in the teacher’s plans. I’d kind of finished several years of math in like a quarter. And then they didn’t have any more classes. So he just told me to like. Sit quietly and amuse myself for the last few months of school?? (Terrible, terrible school.) So I went to the library and found a book about Japanese and started teaching myself that. I really, really liked Japanese! Like it’s a language that just clicks really well with the way my brain works, I think. It’s very logical, I like the syllabary, etc. And I think growing up signing helped me with pictographic languages like Middle Egyptian and Japanese. My brain easily connects visual symbols with concepts.

When I went to college, the plan was honestly to learn more Egyptian and start translating, and I kept taking French to help me read old research in various ancient study fields. I ended up transferring out of the NELC major, though, due to some ethical problems… I guess that’s another post. Several years into my RELS/FOLK degree I went to my parents like. Look. I love learning this stuff but none of it’s useful. Remember how much I loved Japanese? Can I go back to learning that? I could translate that and that’s a legit skill. So I applied to a program through my school and studied in Japan for a while and ended up really doubling down on that language. Weird how I came back to it years later, but I guess it was always the one I loved best.

I have a mind that’s very pattern-based, so I guess I’ve always loved learning languages and the patterns behind them. (This may be why languages with a lot of rule exceptions, like French, irritate me.) They’re like puzzles that I’ve always enjoyed teasing out. Unfortunately, the way my education bounced around meant that I never got a good grounding in most of those languages, so I’ve largely lost them. I can still read French fairly well and my Japanese is good… My Spanish is like. Enough to get me around in the southern US. My German is abysmal. I remember very little Latin & Middle Egyptian. (It’s been over 10 years, I guess.)

So I guess what I feel the need to say to you is that if you don’t use it, you will lose it. I did well in all my language classes. They’ve always been fairly easy for me. Like. Straight As, no problem. I don’t say this to brag. I say it so you know that even for someone like me, whose brain is fairly well-wired for languages, it’s very, very difficult to retain languages when you’re not using them. If you’re not used to taking languages or you started late in life, it’s even harder. So even on the days you don’t want to practice! You gotta practice! Ganbare! Bon chance!

[prorevenge]

Got my nightmare professor fired, might've indirectly gotten him deported too

Before this tale even begins, this is obviously a throwaway account. This is a big bitch of a story spanning two semesters, so I'm putting the tealdeer at the beginning and at the end for those who are short on time.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

Last semester, I enrolled in an introductory French course at my university. This was to learn at least a little bit of French so that I could read French papers about French filmmaking techniques since I'm a pretty hardcore film student and I really love film as an art form. Plus, I needed some gen ed credit for my degree, so it made sense to take the course.

I went to the first lecture kind of dreading the course. I was in 19 credit hours, which is taking six classes in a single semester, and the class was 4 credit hours, meaning we met four days out of the week, every week. Very overwhelming schedule, indeed. Needless to say, I didn't work a single job that semester.

The professor, who will be referred to as Baguette because it's one of the few French words I actually know, began to go through the syllabus and I watched as the excitement that is usually present in students on the first day slowly left everyone's faces. Before I explain why, I have to address that this is the most basic French class that the university I go to offers and is really meant for people who never took a lick of French in high school. Like me.

Baguette announced that not only would he be teaching the entire class in fluent French with no English whatsoever, he wouldn't be answering questions in English at all, and if you asked him a question in French but got even a word or a conjugation wrong, he wouldn't answer you either. Attendance was mandatory as well, and you could only miss 4 class periods before he started dropping letter grades. Now, this attendance policy is unfair bullshit because we met for class just under 60 times that semester, meaning you would fail the course if you missed 8 class periods, which is only about 7% of the total course. I was looking around the class and people looked like they couldn't drop this class fast enough.

Then, he announced that not only would we not be using a physical book, we'd be using a free website online, a site called Francais Interactif. Now, this got some excitement back in the air. Textbook prices suck, and anything to lower the cost of education for students is great. You can even use the site yourself to practice your French skills, if you want. It's open source, knock yourself out.

That said, the site isn't meant to replace a textbook. There's a free workbook and audio files to help with aural comprehension on it, and that helped me and some of the other students pass some of the exams, but the site's equivalent to the part of a textbook that actually teaches you the material is extremely lacking, sometimes only having a couple of paragraphs about a really important concept in the language. In short, it gives you a ton of ways to practice concepts but almost no ways to learn them in the first place.

This would have been totally fine if Baguette would have explained things better in his lectures. But, as you'll recall, he gave them entirely in French, and in fast fluent French. So, picture this; you have to sit through four classes a week that you understand literally nothing of for an hour at a time while the professor rambles on in a language that you don't understand but are desperately trying to learn, and on top of all that, you can't even ask him any questions in English because he won't answer you and you can't ask him any questions in French either, because you don't know how to do that properly yet, and you won't for 3/4ths of the semester, because the unit that covers question words and phrases was arbitrarily put a few weeks after midterms, and on top of all that, you can't even really do your homework or study for exams because you have no fucking idea what any of this nasally shit means. Naturally, we, as a class, slowly started to get more and more frustrated as time went on. A few of us decided to band together and be friends and study partners to weather the storm. I'll call the important ones to the story R and S.

S was a foreign exchange student from Spain who spoke perfect Spanish and was taking the class to learn French for when she goes back to Europe. Now, we dug into what all other classes Baguette taught and found out that he taught Spanish, too. Perfect. We found a loophole. We could ask S a question in English, and she could ask him in Spanish, since it wasn't asking him in English, and he could answer in Spanish and she could translate that back to us in English. Now, you might be saying to yourself that this a fucking stupid and no self respecting educator should teach in this broken, shitty, ass-backwards way. You're right.

This worked for a bit, but he started answering S's Spanish questions in French to combat our little exploit of the rules. We were defeated and back to square one. We needed to devise a new plan, because most of us were failing at this point and we were stressed beyond belief.

R, a frat lad, and I, decidedly not a frat lad, became unlikely friends. He was a pretty naive kid, and he was a hardcore drinker. It visibly took a toll on him. He had a beer gut at 22 and addiction kind of mentally hollowed him out and made him flippant and emotional. The guy was super easy to piss off and he overreacted to everything. I felt bad for the guy and even outside of the struggle in class, I tried my best to be there for him. We were talking one day and we decided to meet up at the library and just theorize ways to crack the class to get at least a 60.

At the library, R was playing around on Francais Interactif trying to find the videos the professor would use for the aural part of the exam (basically, you'd listen to the video and copy down whatever the person was saying for credit. problem was, it was hard as shit and it was easily the part of the exams that took the biggest chunk out of the class's grade). He couldn't find them on the site anywhere and he got frustrated and gave up, so he started filling in the slots where you put answers on the homework pages of Francais Interactif with random words.

That's when we realized that when you do this, the site gives you the right answer regardless, no matter how wrong you are. Essentially, we now had access to the entire course's answers for the homework section and all we had to do was put one character into the answer boxes and, since all we had to do for the homework assignments was copy and paste our answers into a Word document and submit them online, we could theoretically do all the homework while knowing zero material whatsoever if we just changed the answers in Word. We sat for about 45 minutes and did the rest of the homework for the entire course this way in one sitting.

We agreed to not turn it all in at once so we couldn't get caught and we agreed to keep our mouths shut and only share this with people who wouldn't rat on us. Obviously, we told S.

One of the things I'll never forget about that first French class was that, during the final, one of the students started to quietly weep. Then, the weeping got louder, then louder still. The student was clutching his head in his hands and you could feel the palpable impotent frustration at his inability to do French correctly. After I finished the final, I saw him outside the class staring out a window in the hall. I asked if he was alright and what he was crying about and he told me he couldn't answer even the most basic questions asking for words for things like left and right and up and down and that was thing that finally broke him. That got to me, man.

Most of the kids failed the course, even some of the ones who used the homework exploit. R and S passed with a D and I passed with a C, surprisingly. The professor actually liked me, for some reason, and graded my exams a bit more fairly. Even still, I'm an A/B student, one in the Honor's Program at my university, so a C kind of stung my GPA. But, seeing as more than half the class failed, I counted my lucky stars that I got off easy.

I went to enroll in my classes for the next semester, and I had completely forgot that I still had to take another French class for my degree. I checked the class list and the second class you're supposed to take in the progression was only taught by Baguette. No other professor taught Beginning French II, apparently. This struck me as kind of odd, so I checked the rest of the French classes that were available. All of them, all 6 courses in the French department, were taught by Baguette. He was the only fucking teacher the department had. My stomach dropped as I realized I had locked myself into yet another class taught by the worst professor I've ever had, to this day.

This is class where the revenge begins, and I'm sorry if that preamble was too long, but I had to give context as to how horrible Baguette was. Even still, I'm frankly not doing him justice. His class was an artful trainwreck of incompetence, in the slowest slow motion available over nearly 60 class periods. And I had to do it again, only this time with harder material.

I had been keeping up with R and S over the winter break and S was going back to Spain, so she wouldn't be in the next class with me. But, I got R to enroll in the same section of Beginning French II as me.

Baguette passed out the syllabus to Beginning French II and it was the exact same as French I, down to us using Francais Interactif again, just in the higher chapters instead of the basic chapters. Now, here's the thing about learning a foreign language; you have to build from the basics, or else none of the other stuff makes sense. None of us in that class, not one person, knew any of the material past maybe Chapter 3. Most of us didn't even know how to ask questions. I did, so I asked questions for people who didn't, since S wasn't there.

Well, if you thought we bumbled through the basic material, no harder bumbling took place then when we started on things that have no direct English translation like y and en. When he asked students questions in this class, they'd just kind of look at him dumbfounded and shrug.

We got a study guide for our first exam and I was going to study my ass off so that I could get a better grade than a C. Besides a brief stint with depression my first semester that made me not be able to go to classes and fail one of my courses, a C was the lowest grade I had gotten at university. I must've studied for twenty hours over the course of a week before the exam. I hadn't even put that much effort into classes for my major. I got into class on the day of the exam, and nothing that I had spent all that time studying was on it. I bombed that test spectacularly, getting a 30%.

At this point, I was pretty much done. I was willing to go to my professor's office hours and ask him how I was supposed to study for his exams effectively, and his response is what began my quest to get revenge on him. He told me to watch YouTube videos. I don't know what it was about this that got me so pissed, but I was fired up.

But, that wasn't all that drove me to take the revenge I took on this fucker. No, what drove me to go after this guy was R calling me up crying after getting his exam back. He did worse than I did. He got a 15%. He kept repeating through sobs that he just wanted to be a good student and that he didn't want to disappoint his mom again. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried at this. I thought back to that kid in French I after the final, about my peers and about R and something inside me snapped. I was going to get this guy fired and peacefully do anything else I could to ruin this guy's life one way or another, and R was going to be my Right Hand Man.

We met at his dorm and started brainstorming. It was about halfway through the semester, after our midterms. We both had a job, a significant other, extracurricular activities and I was taking 19 hours again this semester. We were going to need time on our side, a commodity that neither of us had, and we were going to need it quickly. We knew that the professor was going to be gone for a week at a conference right after spring break, so there was a two week window there. But, even still, we needed more time for what we started planning to do. I faked a doctor's note for two weeks absence and R agreed to use all four of his absences to meet at the same time French was supposed to occur and plan our peaceful academic coup.

Now, I knew I was eventually going to get caught from word go. But, I was so confident that I could get this guy fired before I would have a disciplinary hearing that I took the gamble, and Baguette took the bait. He excused me for two whole weeks.

So, you're probably wondering what we actually did. Well, the reason we needed so much time is that we needed time to both conduct interviews from the class as well as collect data on scores. We got a total of thirteen out of the seventeen students to make a statement about Baguette's performance in his Beginning French II class and all of them were negative. This was just in one section of the course.

Then, we asked if we could have their exam scores so that we could have some hard data to nail this guy with. All but two complied. We did some quick maths, and determined that more than half the class failed the exams, with most scoring between 30 and 50.

But, as it turns out, we didn't even need the exam scores given to us. We figured out that the online grade database site that our school uses so students can monitor their grades without asking their profs has a built in feature that shows the class average of every assignment that's put into the gradebook. Not a single assignment had a class average above a 50 except for the homework, which had a class average of around 80, no doubt thanks to the stupid exploit in the website.

Sure enough, I got tagged with a notice that I broke the discipline code of the university because obvious shop is obvious. But, it didn't matter. I had everything I needed to go to the Foreign Language department chair and sort this shit out. So, I did.

I showed the department chair all the data, let him listen to the audio from the student testimonies as well as gave my own testimony on the course. After showing him all this, he was dumbfounded. Not only did the chair not know that Baguette was a shitty teacher, almost nobody did course evaluations for French I, so he thought that Baguette was doing a decent job. He took all my evidence and gave it to the dean of arts and sciences and a couple weeks later, I get an email saying that Baguette was Bag-gone and that I was going to be withdrawn from the course along with everyone else who would've likely failed. Those who would've passed got to get a Credit Received grade without having to take the final. He got fired one semester before he qualified for his tenure.

But, that's not the juiciest fucking morsel of this tale. You're probably wondering how he got deported and how I found out that he got deported because of his firing. Well, after my disciplinary hearing got thrown out because the complainant was no longer affiliated with the university, I got more than I bargained for.

During his lectures, one of the few times he spoke English was after he introduced the syllabus on the first day. He had everyone introduce themselves and he started the exercise by introducing himself. Well, in his introduction, I remember him saying something about him being an immigrant from Venezuela. I live in the States (Etats-Unis for you Bonjour Bois), and some of you might know that we have pretty strict visa policies.

Well, R is pretty conservative. After our work got Baguette fired, we celebrated by getting some beer and shooting the shit. We talked about random aspects of the course and the fact that he was an immigrant got brought up. Apparently, R didn't know this and he was pretty upset about it. I tried to calm him down, but he went on a rant that I tried to politely nod along to while tuning out since I'm not really about that. I didn't think anything of it until a couple of days later.

He called me up and told me that he tipped Baguette off to a certain immigration agency for a "visa check" (his words, not mine) and that now all we had to do was wait. I was shocked. I didn't think this would go this far. I feigned that I was pleased with this but in reality, I was kinda bummed. Since he was probably here on an academic visa since he was a professor, he probably is going back home to Venezuela. I am glad, though, that he won't be teaching any more of my fellow students at my uni, because I wouldn't wish his classes on anyone.

TL;DR - My French professor was so terrible that I decided to get him fired on behalf of my classmates. After he got fired, my partner that I worked with to do this tipped him off to an immigration agency to get him deported.

edit: formatting

(source) story by (/u/ouiouirevenge)