#the other day one of my coworkers asked me A LOT of jew questions

[benevolentbirdgal]

honestly, the most obnoxious response to people finding out I'm vegetarian and kosher-style (or just in response to like, the general principle of kosher or whatever) is the "oh that's so hard I can't imagine not eating normal foods." like bruh. normal foods are relative. There's not One True Food Lifestyle from which all others deviate - there are cultures where it's normal to consume insects and there are cultures where it's not, there are people for whom dairy is a nonstarter and others where it's needed to start a proper meals, there are places alcohol isn't okay and there are places it's more than alright.

"But don't you miss bacon?"

"You've never had bacon? OMG that's so sad."

No, I haven't, and I don't miss it. Do you miss fermented shark? Bugs? Larval cheese? Century eggs? Marmite? Fish eyeballs? Blood pudding? Rocky mountain oysters? The infinity of jello stuff from the 1950s? Maybe there's something I've listed that's a normative part of your diet, but it's unlikely that all of them are. All of these are edible, but what is culturally acceptable and gastronomically desired vary from decade to decade and place to place.

like, no, being vegan/vegetarian/plant-based/whatever is DEFINITELY not for everyone. but there's not some universal neutral diet that the rest of us are veering from.

[writerobscura]

Reposted from Josh Ellis:

“This picture always struck me, because unlike so many photos of the time, it's so relaxed and unposed - just a bunch of coworkers, having fun. But this is a resort called Solahütte. It was built for these people, and it was 18 miles from where they worked, a place called Auschwitz. It was built to give them a break from their very important work.

These smiling, happy people were on their day off from putting Jews in ovens.

A lot of times people will say they look at the faces in photos like these and try to understand. But I don't need to try. I understand these people thoroughly. Those two on the left in the front? They were besties, party girls, just waiting for the war to be over so they could get down to the business of finding husbands and enjoying their twenties. Blonde boy behind them? A bit awkward but always up for a laugh. The guy with the accordion learned it from his grandpa, but never had any intentions of playing professionally - it was good for parties, though.

They had their fun out there in the woods - it's good sometimes to get away and just leave your worries behind, isn't it? - and then they got back in their cars and they rode back to the camp and they got on with the business of genocide. The party girls, they were in charge of noting down every possession they took from the incoming as they went through processing. Blondie? He told the children, sternly but not unkindly, how important hygiene was, as he led them to the showers. Herr Accordion? A laboratory assistant to Doktor Mengele, absolutely marvelous at keeping the equipment clean and organized - that was his real skill, not just laying down a rousing chorus of "Horst Wessel" when the beer was flowing, and he was much valued for it, and the fact that he always remembered your birthday and asked about your family. That's important when you're stationed far away from them, isn't it? To have someone who reminds you of normal life, just waiting on the other end of the Allied surrender.

Of course. That's exactly who they were. And absolutely none of it negates the fact that the nice people in this photo were fucking monsters, many of whom ended their war at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad. And you know what? I bet they did it crying, begging, screaming that it wasn't fair, that they had a job to do, that's all, they were given a job and they were expected to do it, and what would you have done in their place?

That, right there, is the most important question you have to ask yourself. It's one I've pondered my entire life. And I know my answer: I would never allow myself to be put in the position of finding out. I'd rather run or die. It's why I could never have been a cop or a soldier. The lesson I learned from these people was to never put myself in a position where I was required to do evil in the name of following orders. And I have very little sympathy for those who choose otherwise.

There are not good people on both sides. There are party girls and weekend polka players everywhere, people who are kind to their children and bake extra cookies for their neighbors, but some people choose to be the instruments of horror and others do not, and history is rightfully merciless to the former.

So when you tell me that some of the people in America espousing the same madness that these people in this picture committed atrocities for are really not that bad if you get to know them, that there are good people on both sides, I don't believe you.

Because I do know them. And I do not care.”

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Holiday Songs

“What’s your favorite Christmas song?”

One of my coworkers sprang this question on me as soon as I clocked in.

“I don’t have one,” I replied.

She gaped at me. “What?!”

Inwardly, I sighed, preparing myself for yet another round of assuring a well-meaning gentile that I’m completely fine even though I don’t have Christmas in my life.

Outwardly, I forced a laugh. “I mean, I’m Jewish.”

“You’re Jewish! Right! I knew that! Why’d I ask you that?” she said, which was a nice change to the script, even as she immediately followed it up with, “What’s your favorite holiday song, then?”

This time I hesitated a bit before saying, “I don’t have one. I mean, I don’t really care about this holiday season.”

“Really?” she said. “Not even Thanksgiving?”

That evening, over FaceTime with my family, I brought up this story. They helpfully suggested some songs I could use as responses the next time someone asked me for my favorite Christmas song.

I could pick one of the Christmas songs written by Jews, such as “White Christmas” by Irving Berlin, or “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” by Johnny Marks. However, as catchy as they both are, I don’t really like either of them. I’m never dreaming of a white Christmas, and the reindeer who bully Rudolph are never actually condemned for their behavior. It also kinda bums me out that Jewish songwriters had to write songs about someone else’s religion in order to make a living.

My mom suggested I pick “Sleigh Ride.” Back when I played percussion in my local youth symphony, we performed that song, and I had a lot of fun using the slapstick – literally two blocks of wood on a hinge you slap together – to make the sound of the whip. And my sibling pointed out that though this song is commonly played during Christmas, the lyrics mention eating pumpkin pie, a Thanksgiving food.

Thanksgiving is important to my family as one of the two times each year we all get together. This year, we made a point of gathering over Zoom for it – cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. My sibling mentioning Thanksgiving made me think of another “holiday song” I could pull out as a favorite, one that my aunt always played on her guitar before dinner. It goes, “Happy Thanksgiving! Hooray, hooray, hooray! Aren’tcha glad you’re not a turkey on this Thanksgiving Day?” If I must have a favorite holiday song, it might as well be a silly one.

But the truth is, I do have favorite holiday songs. I just didn’t feel comfortable sharing that part of myself with someone who has an ingrained belief that Christmas is for everyone. She wouldn’t have understood this, but my holiday songs, the ones that actually mean something to me, are for different holidays.

There’s “Chag Purim,” with its gragger sound effects that always made me laugh when I was little. There’s “Return Again,” which gives me chills each year on the High Holy Days. There’s “Shalom Aleichem” and every other song I sang with my family each week on Shabbat growing up. There’s “Dayenu” and “Miriam’s Song,” both Pesach favorites, and “One Is Hashem” and “Chad Gadya” are more fun for me than the “Twelve Days of Christmas” will ever be. And of course there are Chanukah songs – “Maoz Tsur” and “Sevivon” and Debbie Friedman’s “Latke Song.”

If you read the above paragraph and smiled and nodded through it, I wish you all the best this goyishe holiday season. Remember that you are whole as you are, and that it is good to find joy in what is personally meaningful to you, no matter what others may think you need to find meaningful.

And if you read that paragraph and did not get a single reference, well… Google is free, and so is this quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

[erin-hart]

This picture always struck me, because unlike so many photos of the time, it's so relaxed and unposed - just a bunch of coworkers, having fun. But this is a resort called Solahütte. It was built for these people, and it was 18 miles from where they worked, a place called Auschwitz. It was built to give them a break from their very important work.

These smiling, happy people were on their day off from putting Jews in ovens.

A lot of times people will say they look at the faces in photos like these and try to understand. But I don't need to try. I understand these people thoroughly. Those two on the left in the front? They were besties, party girls, just waiting for the war to be over so they could get down to the business of finding husbands and enjoying their twenties. Blonde boy behind them? A bit awkward but always up for a laugh. The guy with the accordion learned it from his grandpa, but never had any intentions of playing professionally - it was good for parties, though.

They had their fun out there in the woods - it's good sometimes to get away and just leave your worries behind, isn't it? - and then they got back in their cars and they rode back to the camp and they got on with the business of genocide. The party girls, they were in charge of noting down every possession they took from the incoming as they went through processing. Blondie? He told the children, sternly but not unkindly, how important hygiene was, as he led them to the showers. Herr Accordion? A laboratory assistant to Doktor Mengele, absolutely marvelous at keeping the equipment clean and organized - that was his real skill, not just laying down a rousing chorus of "Horst Wessel" when the beer was flowing, and he was much valued for it, and the fact that he always remembered your birthday and asked about your family. That's important when you're stationed far away from them, isn't it? To have someone who reminds you of normal life, just waiting on the other end of the Allied surrender.

Of course. That's exactly who they were. And absolutely none of it negates the fact that the nice people in this photo were fucking monsters, many of whom ended their war at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad. And you know what? I bet they did it crying, begging, screaming that it wasn't fair, that they had a job to do, that's all, they were given a job and they were expected to do it, and what would you have done in their place?

That, right there, is the most important question you have to ask yourself. It's one I've pondered my entire life. And I know my answer: I would never allow myself to be put in the position of finding out. I'd rather run or die. It's why I could never have been a cop or a soldier. The lesson I learned from these people was to never put myself in a position where I was required to do evil in the name of following orders. And I have very little sympathy for those who choose otherwise.

There are not good people on both sides. There are party girls and weekend polka players everywhere, people who are kind to their children and bake extra cookies for their neighbors, but some people choose to be the instruments of horror and others do not, and history is rightfully merciless to the former.

So when you tell me that some of the people in America espousing the same madness that these people in this picture committed atrocities for are really not that bad if you get to know them, that there are good people on both sides, I don't believe you.

Because I do know them. And I do not care.

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 10

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,859

Warnings: slurs

And if they stare

Just let them burn their eyes on you moving

And if they shout

Don't let it change a thing that you're doing

Hold your head up, woman

Hold your head up, woman

Hold your head up, woman

Hold your head high

(x)

Spending his Friday night in a backwoods bar with a bunch of racists wasn't Flip’s idea of a good time. The jukebox played the same ten songs in rotation, the lighting probably should have been replaced a good five years ago, and the pool tables were missing cue balls. At least the beer was cold.

He had grown used to the atmosphere at the bar, and the patrons. The smell of cigarette smoke fell heavily over everything, leaving a slight haze in the room. The bar was more populated than usual. A ladies night had been introduced into the roster, filling the usually testosterone-laden room with high heels and skirts.

The girls were pretty enough. Some looked like office-workers, secretaries and nurses. Some were definitely underage, leaving the detective in him rolling. They looked like they were having a good time, whispering among one another before one would wait for a man to approach her. They'd giggle and bat their eyes at anyone who caught their gaze. It was all so normal. It was hard to remember every single one of them was sympathetic to the aryan movement that this bar was home to.

A girl kept trying to catch his eye from across the room. She looked a little younger than him, but older than the underage girls. She wore a simple skirt and blouse with sensible heels. A work outfit, meaning she must have come straight from the office to the bar. Her hair was a dark brown that flowed down her back in soft waves. Her features were distinctly sharp, with high cheekbones and a thin nose. She would stare at him from across the room as he spoke to Walter, occasionally whispering to her friends and giggling.

"She seems sweet on you over there," Walter pointed out, amusement filling his voice.

"So I've noticed," He responded, keeping his answer as neutral as possible.

"She's a pretty one, would make a fine wife," He continued.

"I'm sure she would,"

It wasn't the first time being flirted with while undercover. He'd managed to keep a pretty clean record with undercover cases. But he'd been undercover at a few strip clubs early in his career, weeding out seedy club owners that allowed girls to perform favors in back rooms. Or drug gangs that hired women for company. There was one case where his target's wife got sweet on him and he spent weeks on end trying to politely rejecting her advances.

But he also wasn't dating anyone during those cases. He'd either purposely stop seeing anyone during those periods, or the girl he was seeing would get sick of him never being around and would leave. He made sure Elle aware that things like this might come up, but it didn't make him feel any less strange about it all. She understood he'd have to sometimes be around a certain kind of woman, and she was okay with that as long as he kept his hands to himself. He had no problem with that last part, especially when this woman would openly hate him if she knew his true ancestry.

'Weird how that works' He thought to himself. This woman is attracted to him, but if this were a different bar a different day, and he had his necklace on, she would be repulsed by him.

Elle's words echoed in his head; They don't care who you are as a person if you’re Jewish.

"Ask her to dance, she looks like she could use a partner," Walter suggested, eyebrows cocking up his forehead.

"Maybe later," He was avoiding committing to anything.

"Later? What's the wait?" A new voice came.

A few of the members approached them as they stood by a pool table. They had clearly just gotten to the bar, the cool outdoor air still clinging to their jackets as they formed a semi circle.

"Ron here is taking his sweet time waiting to talk to that sweet thing over there," Walter informed the newcomers, nudging his head in the direction of the girl at the bar.

"Are you stupid? If you aren't snatching that up, I am," One of the men said incredulously.

"By all means, go for it," He offered, putting up a hand in surrender.

"What are ya queer or somethin'?" Felix sneered.

"I ain't no queer," He defended. God, what was this guy's obsession with him? Everyone else accepted him but Felix was constantly badgering him.

"You're passing up on some good genes there," Walter said nonchalantly. "A pure wife is gettin' harder to come by,"

"Yeah, and finding a girl here guarantees her bloodline. Ain't nothin' in his bar that doesn't have Aryan blood runnin' through their veins," Felix grinned, but it came off as unsettling when matched with his words.

"I've done just fine in the past," Flip tried his best to wave them off. "I just got out of a relationship, she was a handful. I'm not in a rush to do that again,"

"All these modern women and their attitudes," Ivanhoe roared, his beer starting to affect his speech. "It's all this women's lib bullshit,"

"What happened to the good old days? When women knew their place was in the home? Now you got all these girls looking to go to college and have careers. Don't they know they aren't built for that?" Another brother bemoaned

"Built for babies an nothin’ else," Walter agreed.

"Hey, now that's not fair," Flip chided. Everyone turned to look at him, eyes wide in surprise anyone would challenge them.

"They're built for cookin' too, I'm not here to make my own damn sandwiches," He laughed, making the room laugh with him.

He knew Elle would kill him if he ever told her he said that. He sent a silent apology into the universe.

"Sorry I'm late," Another voice came, followed by the front door slamming shut. "Got tied up at the hospital,"

"Hey John, how's your mom doin'? I heard she fell pretty hard," Walter greeted the man as he grabbed a bottle of beer and joined the circle.

"She's okay, would be a lot better if the damn nurses would listen to her," John grumbled.

"Damn shame, they just don't listen to patients no more," Ivanhoe grumbled back.

"And she has this one nurse, uppity bitch. She goes around wearing pants like she's a man. It's plain disrespectful if you ask me,"

The group vocalized their dislike. Flip wondered to himself if there were any other nurses who took to Elle's habit of ditching the dress. He hoped it was someone else they were talking about.

"Oh, and if you think that's bad this nurse walks around wearing one of those Jew necklaces. That's right, our good Christian hospitals are hiring kikes,”

A pit grew in his stomach. It had to be Elle. Her coworker, the one supposed to be at Rosh Hashanah, worked in the maternity ward. He kept quiet and listened to what else John had to say, silently gripping his beer.

"No! The next thing you know they'll be hiring dogs off the street! How is the good lord supposed to protect patients at a Christian hospital if they're hiring nurses of a different faith?" Walter asked.

"Maybe we could pay her a visit like that black panther girl. Scare her off a little," Felix suggested, making flips blood run cold.

"She'll drop out in her own time I bet, she'll get she ain't welcome here," He heard himself say.

"She doesn't even have an easy to pronounce name, my mother doesn't know what to even call her. Those Hebrews and their weird names. Why can't they be more like us?" Flip didn't bother to point out John's name had Hebrew origins, he knew he'd be wasting his breath. And it had to be Elle, she used her full name on her name tag.

"Give her a number, I'm sure she'd respond to that. They sure used to," Felix laughed, causing everyone else to follow. Flip grinned but he felt sick as he twisted his face into a smile.

"Can she ask for a more suitable nurse?" He tried to switch the conversation to being less disgusting.

"According to the hospital, she's one of their best. The head nurse said she was 'one of the best they'd ever had' and my mother was 'lucky to have her looking after her'. Shows what they know," John rolled his eyes.

A little sense of pride swelled in Flip. He knew Elle was good at her job, but he was sure she'd be happy to hear how her bosses praise her.

"It's a shame, she's pretty for a Jew. And the pants do fill out in all the right ways," John chuckled.

"You could always shut her up with your dick," Ivanhoe offered. "Give her an uncut taste,"

He wanted to break cover right then. That was his girlfriend. His gorgeous, smart, fiery girlfriend they were talking about. Not some object for them to comment on. He took a few breaths through his nose to calm himself. The investigation was more important. He had a wire strapped to his chest that was recording all of this. This was evidence. He couldn't give up now.

"Let me know if you're willing to share," He managed to say, clinking bottles with John.

"I heard that girl who works down at the grocery store on 22nd is coming here tonight, if you're looking for something less kosher," Walter teased the young man.

"Oh don't mind if I do," John leered.

The conversation turned after that, much to his relief. They went back to their usual bemoaning of society these days instead of the targeted talk about Elle. He supposed he shouldn't be too worried if they couldn't even pronounce her full name, but the thought of anything happening to her made him slow to finish his beer at the risk of losing it.

He was able to start his goodbyes not too long after, saying he was looking to turn in early because he had a long week at work. He shrugged his shearling jacket over his shoulders and waved off any last attempts to set him up with a fine Aryan woman as he walked out of the bar, leaving the faint sounds of the jukebox in the distance.

He calmly got in his car and locked the doors, checking no one was wandering around outside for a smoke break. He began talking lowly into the microphone on his chest so that Ron could hear him.

"I'll meet you by the gas station in ten, park away from the lights," He said as he turned on his engine and drove out of the parking lot on to the poorly lit road.

He tried not to think too much about what was said as he drove. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Fear wasn't helpful right now. He needed to keep himself safe. He needed to keep her safe. But right now he needed to get this equipment to Ron so he could go home to her.

He finally managed to get off the uneven dirt roads hidden in the trees and onto the solid asphalt of the main roads. He noticed a pair of headlights behind him in the distance. In the rear view mirror he could see Ron’s car following him at a distance until they both pulled into the back lot of the small gas station on the way back to the city.

He gently but quickly pulled the wire from his undershirt, letting the tape remain in his haste. He pulled the transmitter from the front pocket of his jeans and turned the power off, winding the chord around the plastic frame. He got out of his car and opened the door to Ron's passenger side before sitting down.

"Were they talking about Elle?" He asked without a greeting. "That nurse they described sounded awfully familiar,"

"I think so. They said some stuff that'd be good in court, keep this tape safe," He responded, staring to get out of the car.

"That's your girl they were talking about, doesn't that make you angry?" Ron sounded upset at his perceived cavalier nature.

"You're right it is my girl. It makes me fuckin’ furious but I can’t blow my cover because of that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna make sure she's safe," He said curtly, slamming the door behind him.

He was out of the parking lot before Ron could even turn his lights back on. The drive from this bar back into the city was about fifteen minutes, with another couple to reach Elle's place. He was still cautious, driving roundabout routes and watching the cars around him to make sure he wasn't being followed. He couldn't throw caution to the wind just because he was angry.

His mind raced as he took the back streets to her apartment building. He had to make sure she was safe, that she was doing things to keep herself safe. A part of him still hoped they were talking about another Jewish nurse who wore pants and didn't take shit from patients. Unlikely, but it helped calm him down.

He swung into a spot outside her building, almost forgetting to turn his car off as he ran inside. He hurried up the stairs, not caring if his steps were too loud, and knocked on her door in a way one might mistake as pounding.

She swung the door open with a confused look on her face.

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you tonight," She greeted him.

"I just got off shift, wanted to come see you," He said, trying to stifle his heaving breathing from rushing.

"You look pale, is everything okay?" She asked, putting her wrist to his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine, come here," He mumbled, pulling her into a hug.

She squeaked in surprise as he swept her up in his arms, his body overtaking hers as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"You're gorgeous, you know that right? And the smartest person I know. You're perfect and anyone that says different is fucking blind," His voice was hoarse as his hands ran through her curls.

"Uh, thanks Flip. That's kind of out of nowhere, are you sure everything's okay?" She pushed him away gently before bringing her hands up to his jawline to get a better look at him.

"You know I can't really talk about work stuff, right? We talked about that," He says softly.

"Yeah, and that's okay," She matched his tone, running her thumb along his cheek in a soothing motion. "I get that it's gonna be that way,"

"But...something happened and it's making me concerned about you at work," He continued, looping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

"Okay," She rested her head in his chest and waited for him to elaborate.

"Elle," He called softly. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, full of empathy.

"I don't think you should be wearing your necklace at work," He said cautiously, watching for her response. "It's for your safety, I wouldn't be asking you otherwise,"

Her eyebrows knitted together, her nose scrunched the tiniest bit, narrowing her gaze as she looked up at him.

"No," Was all that came from her mouth.

“Elle—” He started, trying to find a way to tell her why this was important.

"I can't take this off, I've been wearing this since I was thirteen, it's important to me,"

"I understand that, and I said I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," He tried to keep an even tone as her grew louder.

"Flip, I'm keeping it on," Her words were final, and she trekked out of the living room into her bedroom.

He stood there for a minute before following her. She was folding her clothes that had just been washed at the laundromat down the street. She was silent, but the way she snapped the folds and wrinkles from her clothes indicated she was angry.

He leaned against the doorway watching her. She clearly knew he was there but chose to ignore him, putting a freshly folded pile into a drawer.

"Elle, we have to talk about this,"

No response.

"Eliana, come on. You know this is serious, I've never asked you anything like this before,"

Another angry snap as she folded a pair of blue jeans.

"Elle, please. You're still Jewish if you take it off for a few hours a day, no one can take that from you—”

"You just don't get it, do you?" She whipped around, rage bubbling just below the surface.

"Obviously not," He shot back. "But I'm trying, so please explain to my why you can't take it off for work?"

“"t's a family heirloom, its non-negotiable,”

"What does that even have to—”

"It's a family heirloom Phillip! This was my grandmother’s. She didn’t make it to America like my parents. She stayed behind and was taken to the camps with the rest of my family. She hid it when everything else was taken from her! She sewed it into the lining of the clothes given to her. When she died at the camp from starvation my uncle had to sneak it into his possession before the guards could bury her with it. It would have been lost for forever in a mass grave otherwise. She wanted him to keep it safe, keep it in the family at all costs and out of the hands of the guards who'd melt it down for their own needs. He brought it to America after he was liberated and it was given to me after my bat mitzvah,"

The story rushed out of her mouth, her voice cracking and her hands curled into fists as if to anchor her to the moment.

"I was named after my grandmother. What would it mean if I took it off, Flip? She risked her life to keep this necklace, to keep her culture and her faith alive, I'm not taking it off," She covered it with her hand, as if to shield it from his view.

He was speechless. She'd mentioned it was a family heirloom, but it never occurred to him where it came from, or what it might have gone through.

The delicate star she wore around her neck was embedded with the history, the struggles, of her family. It had belonged to the person she was named for. Someone who died while keeping it safe. How many other family heirlooms were taken from people in those camps? Melted down or thrown away, as if they had no significance. An entire culture nearly wiped out and thirty years later still trying to recover and rebuild.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," He apologized sincerely.

"It's not really a conversation I like bringing up," She said stiffly, her eyes tinged red as if she was holding back tears. "If you can't understand what this means to me…I don't know what to tell you. I've been wearing this for sixteen years, I can't just take it off,"

"I understand that now, it's just—” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's just say racists need medical attention too, and someone might've taken notice of you while you were working,"

She was quiet, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought through the patients she'd seen recently.

"And you can't tell me who, right?" She finally asked.

"I can't, I don't want you to accidentally act different around them. Do something that could alert them of what's going on,"

"But if I took my necklace off, wouldn't they still know I'm Jewish? Now that they've seen me?" She questioned.

"Maybe. Gotta be honest, some of these people aren't really Fullbright scholars. They think you 'look Jewish' but I don't think they'd be able to tell if you didn't have the necklace or your full name on your name tag,"

"What wrong with my name?" She asked indignantly.

"Nothing, it's beautiful," He rushed to her defense. "But they thought it was hard to pronounce when they saw your name tag,"

She scowled at the thought, eyes rolling before looking at him again.

"No one even uses my full name at work except for the head nurse. They all call me Elle,"

"I know. The guy who was saying all of this had a Hebrew name. Go figure,"

"Well they haven't figured you out yet, so I guess it's okay. They missed this schnoz somehow," she reached on her tip toes so she could touch her nose to his.

"Hey," He fake-protested. "You know you like it,"

"I do," She agreed, smiling for the first time that night.

She leaned up to kiss him, a peace offering he accepted openly.

"I am still Jewish even if I take it off," She conceded. "But this is important to me. It's my culture and my faith, not just some charm. It helps me feel closer to my family, especially when I'm thousands of miles from home,"

“I understand that now, I won't ask again,"

"And I'm safe at my job," She assured him. "I have a great staff, and they'll make sure nothing happens to me. And I'll start walking home with someone if it makes you feel better,"

"It would," He admitted. "Would you be okay if I let some of the guys at the station know about this? Just in case I can't be there?"

"You are not getting me special treatment," She said firmly. "The last thing I need is to be escorted around town by a bunch of cops,"

"Self defense training then. I can teach you some basics, stuff that can get you out in a pinch,"

"I have a little bit of training but I could probably need the practice,"

"How about on Sunday? You have that day off right? I'll take you to the station and you can throw me around,"

"Perfect," She grinned. "Can I put you in cuffs?"

"Can I put you in cuffs?" He asked back.

"Only if you're wearing that shoulder holster," She pointed her finger at him.

"Oh you liked that huh? Should I read you your Miranda Rights too?” He came up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and nuzzling her neck.

“You have the right to remain silent,” He used a gruff voice, letting his beard tickle her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” She laughed.

“Anything you say can and will be held against you,” He accentuated the statement by grinding against her.

“Excuse me detective, this seems highly inappropriate,”

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you,”

“That’s not even sexy,”

He swept an arm under her leg, picking her up bridal style.

“Do you understand the rights I have just ready to you?”

“I believe so Detective Zimmerman. Now take me to bed you meshugah man,”

“I don’t know that one, but I’m gonna say its a compliment,” He said as he walked toward the bedroom.

“I’ll let you find out,”

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

NOTES

As I’m sure most people know at this point, many valuables and heirlooms were stolen during WWII by the Third Reich. Many families lost everything, some clung to smaller items in any way they could. There are literally hundreds of articles and sources about this looting, and if you’re in the mood to read something depressing, its a whole rabbit hole to go down!

Some history on the Miranda Rights

Taglist: @ladygrey03​ @tinydancer40​

[onewhoturns]

100 truths?

edit: fuck! forgot to mention I was tagged by @mocarro

1.) Real name: Turner 2.) Nicknames: Turner? 3.) Zodiac Sign: *sigh*  4.) Male or Female: (>.> not gonna include nb/gq/ag stuff? really? let’s fix that) 4.) Gender: female 5.) Nursery: the fuck does this mean, I’m painfully american 6.) Primary School: I did that, part private part public, G&T program (I’d regret it, but most of my teachers were good and I was comfortable being a complete nerd) 7.) Secondary School: not as good as primary, but that was mostly internal stuff, no bullying or anything 8.) Hair Color: dark brown 9.) Long or Short: used to be down to my lower back, now it’s shoulder length 10.) Loud or Quiet: loud. I tend to have difficulty regulating my volume, but have definitely gotten better about it now that I’m an adult and I’m more aware of it (also thanks to helpful feedback from friends, family, housemates etc) 11.) Sweats or Jeans: pj pants. or jeans. 12.) Phone or Camera: phone 13.) Health Freak: nah 14.) Drink or Smoke: occasionally drink (twice a month? ish? not very often at all, and when I do it’s small amounts. don’t think I’ve had any alcohol since... february? not trying to abstain, just not big on it unless it tastes good) 15.) Do You Have A Crush On Someone: nope 16.) Political orientation: uhhhhhh liberal I guess? I’d say it without reservation but I’m sure someone could jump down my throat about “the liberals” and I’m over here just like lgbtq+ rights, affordable college tuition, affordable health care, etc.  17.) Piercings: had my ears pierced for all of 6 months but as soon as I took out the studs they closed up before I could put in another pair. yeah. so... no. 18.) Tattoos: nah. thought about it, but nah. HAVE YOU EVER [BEEN IN]: 19.) Airplane: several times 20.) Car *Accident*: i guess? just a fender bender 21.) Fist Fight: nope, i’m weak af and not interested in physical confrontation FIRSTS: 22.) First piercing: ears 23.) First Best Friend: a girl named Beth in first grade, probably. but then I left after second, so never saw her again. 24.) First Instrument played: I’m sure I took piano lessons at some point. but did flute 5-6th grade. 25.) First award: I dunno, probably some participation award or something 26.) First Crush: Julio in kindergarten, apparently XD 27.) First Language: english. 28.) First Big Vacation: we went to maine all the time all through my primary school years LASTS: 29.) Last Person you talked to: out loud? grocery store cashier 30.) Last Person You Texted: if we’re counting discord @bloodofthepen, otherwise probably my mom. if we’re not counting discord but are counting messenger then my coworker/manager 31.) Last Person You Watched: watching jacksepticeye play observation atm 32.) Last Food You Ate: pirate’s booty 32.) Last Movie You Watched: uhhhhhhhhhhhh i dunno. just marathoned what we do in the shadows, though (tv show, not movie) 34.) Last Song You listened to: On Your Way - the Album Leaf 35.) Last Thing You Bought: groceries 36.) Last Person You Hugged: coworker on his last day saturday FAVES: 37.) Food: chocolate croissant maybe? idk, i like a lot of foods. burrata maybe. 38.) Drinks: water (boring, whatever) 39.) Clothing: pj pants and hoodies 40.) Book: His Dark Materials 41.) Color: no fave, really, though I do tend to ask for green for my discord color 42.) Flower: no fave cause I know nothing about flowers. 43.) Music: the Decemberists are up there, as is Death Cab For Cutie and Darlingside 44.) Movie: too many faves. here’s the top ten in no order. 46.) Subjects: psych

IN THE PAST YEAR I… 47.) [ ] Kissed in the rain 48.) [ ] Celebrated Halloween. 49.) [ ] Had Your Heart Broken 50.) [ ] Went Over the Minutes on Your Cell Phone 51.) [x] Someone Questioned Your Sexual Orientation. (tbf it was one of these ask meme things, and it wasn’t questioned as much as asked) 52.) [ ] Used a Weapon 53.) [ ] Breathed fire 54.) [ ] Had an Abortion 55.) [x] Done something you’ve Regretted   56.) [x] Broke a Promise 57.) [x] Kept a Secret 58.) [x] Pretended To Be Happy 59.) [ ] Met Someone Who Changed Your Life 60.) [ ] Pretended To Be Sick 61.) [ ] Left The Country 62.) [ ] Tried something you normally wouldn’t like, and liked it. 63.) [x] Cried Over The Silliest Thing 64.) [ ] Ran a Mile 65.) [x] Went To the Beach 66.) [x] Stayed Single CURRENTLY: 67.) Eating: gonna have some more pirate’s booty when I’m done typing 68.) Drinking: water 69.) Getting Ready To: stay up too late watching or listening to videos or podcasts or maybe playing a game who knows 70.) Listening To: nothing right this second, but I was listening to part four of Film Reroll’s ET game earlier 71.) Plans For Tomorrow/Today: first day off in a week, gonna sleep a lot and maybe wash my hair 72.) Waiting For: sleep YOUR FUTURE: 73.) Want Kids: nah 74.) Want To Get Married: idk, maybe if i meet someone great 75.) Careers in minds: no clue, I’m somewhat bemused that I’m still alive WHICH IS BETTER ON A GIRL/GUY: (again blatant nb/gq/ag exclusion) ON A PERSON/PARTNER: 76.) Lips or Eyes: uhhhh depends. probably lips? 77.) Shorter or Taller: not much of a preference, but probably taller just cause i’m already quite short 78.) Romantic or Spontaneous: (I’m really not a person to ask these questions, I have so little opinion on this sort of thing) probably spontaneous? I’m super adhd and also super depressed, and novelty is good for me. 79.) Nice Stomach or Nice Arms: (another question I have no strong opinions on-- and am not a huge fan of tbh) lately I’ve been a sucker for ladies with nice arms 80.) Sensitive or Loud: knowing when to be one or the other 81.) Hook-up Or Relationship: fwb/casual relationship 82.) Troublemaker or Hesitant: neither? confident but not a dick for the sake of making trouble. self-aware. HAVE YOU EVER: 83.) Lost Glasses/Contacts: don’t wear glasses but i’ve lost sunglasses before 84.) Ran Away From Home: no 85.) Held A Weapon, For Self Defense: nope 86.) Killed Somebody: who would admit to this? 87.) Broken Someone’s Heart: maybe. i’ve definitely turned people down before, and based on their reactions maybe. 88.) Been Arrested: no DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 90.) Yourself: I mean, I exist. I’m relatively confident about some things, and quite pessimistic and self-defeating about others 91.) Miracles: meh. not really. 92.) Love at First Sight: nah. interest for sure, and chemistry, but not full-on love 93.) Heaven: nope 94.) Santa Claus: nah (also: atheist jew, so not really my bag to begin with) 95.) Easter Bunny: nope (see above) 96.) Magic: hm, not per se, but there are so-called witches out there that I think can definitely affect their own lives and therefor the lives of others with the actions they take in the name of magic (so more of a “be the change you wish to see in the world” sort of thing than a love potion or lucky charm sort of thing. i guess i believe in the power of magic to individuals rather that magic on it’s own) ANSWER TRUTHFULLY: 97.) Is There One Person You Wanna Be With, Right Now: ehhhh not really 98.) Are You Seriously Happy With Where You Are, In Life: no, but there’s not anywhere else I can see myself either 99.) Are You Happy With The Person You’re With: no one? yeah, pretty okay with it. not interested in looking for anything else, anyway. 100.) Post as 100 Truths and Tag five People: @iron-moon @bloodofthepen @artemis-crimson @hirvitank @artabria (no pressure, and if anyone else wants to do it go for it)

[anagentinwriting]

To Catch a Thief - Part 7

Summary: Being an FBI field agent was your dream job but having been stuck behind a desk for most of your career you’ve almost given up. Fortunately, a series of robberies with minimal evidence forces you to assist a team in the field to help solve the case. But when the only thing left behind is a series of song lyrics, will you be able to find the perp? Or will the number of obstacles and lack of evidence keep you from solving the case?

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Word Count: 1768

Warnings: Swearing

To Catch a Thief Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After telling Gamora about your suspicions, she wanted you to tail him to see if he was hiding anything.  She warned you to be careful because she didn’t want you to get hurt.  You appreciated her kind gesture, but Peter would never hurt you. He was one of your best friends except what if your suspicions turned out to be true.

Peter’s work schedule took some time to learn, but once you knew it you couldn’t forget it. He worked weekends and a few days during the week, but he picked up extra shifts when his coworkers asked him. His work days usually lead him to sleep in until noon, which meant you got to sleep in, too.

Almost like clockwork, you could hear him groaning and grunting through your wall waking up. All of a sudden your phone vibrated with a text from the man in question.

Peter: Again, sorry for leaving you on your birthday.  That was a real dick thing to do and I feel bad about it. I still have your present, so when you take a break from your cop duties ;) let me know.

Y/N: I understand things happen. I am busy at work for the next few days  :( but I will tell you when I need to binge watch some TV

Peter: :))))

After Peter woke up, you followed him to his gym and watched him from across the street.  You wore a hat and sunglasses as a disguise to help you blend in and keep your face hidden. You also brought a backpack as a prop to make it appear as if you were a student waiting for the bus. You went unnoticed and once he returned to his apartment things stayed pretty quiet until he went to work for the evening.

By the fourth day of tailing him, you could pinpoint where he’d be and when. It was like clockwork. You showed up to his next destination and a few minutes later he would appear. He had his routine and it was simple: wake up at around eleven, go to the cafe down the block for a late breakfast, and eat in the park. Then, go workout for a few hours by either running or heading to the gym. In the evenings, he stayed in his apartment alone doing who knows what or he picked up extra shifts.

Over the course of these days, Peter texted you asking about your day and how work was. This led to short yet long conversations, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face every time his name lit up your screen. As the days passed, you were growing less suspicious of him, and it made you realize, he might have nothing to do with this at all.

On the fifth day, Peter turns on his music and you groaned still laying face down in bed. This never happened. You always woke up before him.  Picking up your phone by your pillow you read 730 AM. Seriously, we just went to bed at 4 AM! How was he even functioning on three hours of sleep? He turned the volume up on his stereo and started to sing along. You smiled to yourself as you heard his shower turn on.

“How I would love to be in that shower?” You mumbled into your pillow.  “Damn it, get your shit together, girl. He is a fucking suspect” You rolled out of bed and got dressed to make it appear as if you’re going to work. You tried to wipe off the exhausted look on your face but no matter what you did you still looked drained. You stepped out into the hallway once you heard Peter’s door close.

“You look rough, sweetheart,” Peter quipped, locking his door.

“Good morning to you too, Peter,” You scoffed, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing a dark blue denim button up with his sleeves rolled up halfway showing off his attractive forearm line. And if that wasn’t enough he was wearing khaki jeans that fit him in all the right places. “And you look handsome as per usual.” The only other time you’ve seen him this dressed up was when he took you out on your birthday, so wherever he was going it had to be good.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Where are you off to looking this good? Hot date?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows as you both walked to the elevator.

“Not today,” he chuckled. “I have some errands to run then I’m meeting up with an old friend for lunch.”

“Sounds like fun.” You pressed the elevator button and right away the doors chimed open. Peter held the elevator door signaling for you to enter first and you shot him a thankful smiled. You hit the garage button and watched the doors close in front of you.

“You working tonight?”

“I don’t think so. It’s Thursday, right?” You peeked at him out of the corner of your eye watching him bite his bottom lip trying to hold back a smile.

“Yes it is,” he cracked a confident smile as he licked his lips. “Say...my place around 8.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek pretending to think it over. “See you then,” you winked a little over the top, hearing him let out a soft chuckle as you walked out of the elevator to your car.

You lost him. How did you lose him? His classic car stuck out like a sore thumb so how did he get away? This was going to be the day you finally get something on him, but no, he disappeared.  You pulled into a parking lot and leaned your head on the steering wheel letting out a loud groan. It shouldn’t be this hard to tail someone. With your stomach growling and your head starting to throb, your phone chimed with a new text message.  You blindly reach for it and glance at the screen.

Peter: Where is your office? I brought you lunch.

Shit, why is he at your office?

YN: Aww... Out of the office right now, but will be back soon

Peter: I’ll wait

YN: Thought you were meeting with your old friend for lunch?

Peter: He works at the FBI, too, so figured I would bring you lunch too

Wait, who else did he know in the FBI?

YN: Aww :) Thank you! I am starving!

Peter: See you soon ;)

Walking through the doors to the field office expecting to find Peter at the entrance, but you don’t see him anywhere. You pulled out your phone about to text him when Luis speaks up.

“YN, HEY YN.” You glanced up from your phone to see Luis holding his hands over his mouth shouting.

“Hey, Luis, what’s up?”

“You looking for Loverboy,” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Loverboy?”

“Yeah, the dirty blonde dude. He’s like super muscular and about yay tall.” He gestured with his hand. “He told me to tell you he’s in Yondu’s office.”

“Yondu’s office. Why is he in there?”

“I guess, their old friends. Wish I knew the story behind it cause it’s gotta be good, right. I mean, maybe they met when Yondu was an agent in the field or is Loverboy a bad guy turned good? You know the possibilities are endless, right.” You nodded, hoping he would get to the end soon. You hated interrupting his stories. “Anyways, Loverboy said you can go right on in and join them.”

You thanked Luis and made your way over to Yondu’s office. Instead of walking right in, you opted to knock and make your presence known. Yondu yelled come in and you opened the door to find Peter sitting in the chair opposite of him with a burrito in his hand.  You faked a smile taking a seat next to him. 

How did he know Yondu? Why did he want to have lunch with you? He never came to visit you at work. As question after question ran through your head, Peter handed you a takeout container with chips and queso in it.

“YN, nice of you to join us. Quill says your his neighbor.” You nodded, chewing a large amount of food you shoved in your mouth. “Good. This boy needs someone keeping an eye on him. He was quite the troublemaker growing up, but I took him under my wing and got him back on track.”

“Is that right?” You questioned, grabbing another chip and loading it with queso. You weren’t sure whether you were starving or if you wanted this lunch to be over. Either way, this was going to be an interesting yet awkward lunch with your boss and neighbor slash best friend slash crush slash suspect.

“Yes. This boy was scrawny before I got ahold of him.”

“I wasn’t scrawny. I was scrappy,” Peter chimed in, forcing a laugh out of you as the two men stared in your direction. You stopped instantly realizing how fake it sounded and continued to eat.

“Right, how could I forget? Scrappy,” Yondu clarified with a smirk. “So, how is the case coming, YN? I haven’t heard much about it lately.”

“It’s good, it’s fine. Brought in a couple people the other day, but it didn’t lead to anything,” you informed, hoping Yondu would drop the subject. Yondu and Peter were clearly close, but he didn’t have to be spilling the beans about this case when your only suspect was sitting right next to you.

“At least you're getting somewhere. Most of those cases involving jew-” Yondu was interrupted by Luis charging through the door.

“Sorry to interrupt. I see you’re all having a nice lunch...oh, are those tacos?” Luis’s eyes wandered around the office until they landed on you and he remembered something. “Oh right, YN your needed upstairs. It sounded urgent.” Luis’s eyes widened silently telling you to go along with this.

“Thanks, Luis, I’ll head up now.” He nodded saying a quick goodbye and left. You shut the lid to your takeout container and stood up to leave, but stopped at the door. “It’s been fun! Thanks for lunch, but you know duty calls.  I’ll see you guys later.” You waved goodbye getting out of Yondu’s office as fast as possible.

You sigh in relief and walked up to Luis giving him a high five. “I owe you, Luis. Thank you so much.”

“You know I’m always listening. Remember I got your back, chica,” He grinned. Luis always did have a problem with tapping into Yondu’s phone line and listening in on his conversations.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This one turned out to be a little shorter, but trust me next week will make up for it!

[master-sass-blast]

Henlo, it's me, your local trash monster here to say I love Hannah and I can't wait to hear more about her?? That being said, GIMME ALL THE SAD GOODS ABOUT HER. But also add in something happy about her in the end! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ ((Also sending hugs! I know things have been stressful the last few days so just know I'm rooting for you !!))

Holy fuck I think this is the first time someone’s ever told me to cut loose and just SAY ALL THE THINGS AND I’M SO EXCITED!!!! :D

(Answers under the cut because I just went with the entire list. I have no self control.

And thank you for the hugs and encouragement!)

1. What is one word to shut them up: Okay, for some context, Hannah is a lawyer. She has a thick skin (unlike me, heyoooo). It takes a lot to shut her up; she’s an HBIC and she owns it.

But if someone starts talking about her scars (she’s struggled/struggles with self-harm), she shuts down. It’s a part of her she’s still self-conscious about, and if someone mentions it she’ll literally stop mid-sentence and mentally exit the conversation.

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about: Again, she’s got a pretty thick skin, so she doesn’t hold onto too much. Life happens, you make mistakes, and it’s better to learn from them rather than beat yourself over the head for something you can’t change anyway.

If there’s something she’s going to feel guilty about, though, it’s fights or incidents she’s had with family members/close friends where she’s hurt them with something she’s said or done. She holds herself in high accountability to ensure that she doesn’t step all over people, and when she does she fails not only them but her expectations for herself, so yeah. Guilt.

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced: Physical pain? Probably different injuries from her career in martial arts. She’s a tough cookie, but some of that stuff just hurts.

Emotional pain? Anytime she fails her expectations for herself. She has very high standards for herself, and when she can’t reach them she becomes very depressed (more so than usual).

4. Describe their worst nightmare: Actual dream? Anything where she’s drowning or running out of air. She almost drowned a couple times as a child/preteen, and the trauma still emerges in her adult life from time to time.

Real life “this is a nightmare” scenario? Any point where her depression gets so bad that she stops being functional. Things just start piling up and get overwhelming very quickly.

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear: 1.) Drowning, which runs pretty deep but it’s an obvious one that she’s done a lot of therapy work for, and she doesn’t mind talking about it with other people. 2.) Wasps. She accidentally got locked into a shed with an active wasp nest in it as a child. She made it out alright, but the sheer terror of the situation made her repress the memory. She’s heard the story from friends and family, and “gets” why she’s scared of the fuckers, but can’t actually recall the incident itself. 3.) The dark. A side effect of depression is paranoia, and when she’s alone, in the dark, she can’t shake the feeling that there’s some sort of creature watching/following her. When her depression gets really bad, she has to sleep with a light on to keep from flipping out.

6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick: She’s not naturally squeamish, but the sounds of belching (ala college frat boys, y’all know what I mean) make her stomach churn.

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves: Her scars. She’s very ashamed of them, and goes out of her way to wear long sleeved shirts so she can hide them.

8. Do they have anything that triggers them: Feeling like she’s failed her own expectations/expectations others have of her, accidentally inhaling water, the ‘buzzing’ sound bees/wasps make.

9. What is their greatest physical weakness: Her height. She might be a kickass lawyer and an even kick-assier martial artist, but she barely clears five feet.

10. What is their greatest mental weakness: Her struggles with self-hatred. She’s her own worst enemy a lot of the time.

11. Do they have any vices: Not really. Not as far as serious vices go. She’s pretty grounded.

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it: Nope. She knew she wanted to be a lawyer from day one and made sure her record was spotless.

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them: Pride? I think that one comes closest? Again, since she really doesn’t have a vice or a thorn in her side, it’s hard to pick something for her.

I think Pride comes closest because she spirals when she fails to live up to her own expectations, which I think often comes with a bit of ego (at least in my experience with that sort of thing). She’s also got a lot to be proud of (lawyer, martial artist, financially independent), but she’s not a walking ego either?

Idk. This is a weird question, lol.

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… ): Not really. Don’t get me wrong, she can get there, but it takes a lot. She’s very collected (and usually swings the opposite way; she’s more likely to cold shoulder you if she’s mad).

She does threaten to shove her Prada stiletto sideways up Hank Pym’s ass, though. So there’s that.

15. Who do they hate the most: Guys who use her height against her by cornering her into spots while they try to ask her out/talk to her about something. It’s the fastest way to wind up on her shit list.

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior: Herself. She’s her own worst enemy.

17. What sound always gives them a headache: Her coworker Tracey’s text/notification sound. Which is always going off because Tracey’s always talking to someone.

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them: Not really. She’s half Japanese, half ethnic Jew, and a practicing Jew to boot, so she grew up on a pretty broad flavor palette.

She’s tried a bacon cheeseburger once on a dare, though, and she hated it.

19. Do they consider themselves ugly: Not really (outside of her scars). She’s pretty confident in her appearance.

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable: Again, not really. She’s spent a lot of time in therapy, which helps, but she’s always had her feet pretty well on the ground.

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety: The prospect of losing. She’s very competitive.

22. Do they have any mental illnesses: Depression.

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped: She’s run into the usual guys that like to try and use her size against her, but they usually wind up worse for wear than she does.

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped: Yes. She’s five feet tall and doesn’t clear 110 lbs. She’s very aware that she’s got “TARGET” written across her back.

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust: Fortunately, no. Most of her close relationships come from communities she knows well (school, work, the temple she attends in LA), so she hasn’t had to deal with too much betrayal.

26. Have they ever been seriously injured: Yes. Even outside of her struggles with self-harm, she’s a martial artist. She’s broken a few bones over the years from that.

27. How many times have they been in the hospital: Five. Three for some pretty drastic self harm incidents, and two from sparring injuries.

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them: Obviously, she has frustrations with asshole guys, racists/anti-Semites, but she cannot stand people who work in organizations that prey on the disenfranchised (ala military recruiters going to schools in impoverished areas to fill their quota because they know how to trick the kids into trying out and all that). It gets her blood boiling fast.

29. Does what they cannot see scare them: Yes. Again, this shows perfectly with her fear of the dark.

30. Have they ever been bullied: Yupp. For her heritage, her beliefs, her mental health struggles, her size... High school sucks.

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues: Yes and no. Again, she’s pretty confident about most things in life, but she does have certain weak points (her scars, living up to her own expectations, her height).

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents: Actually, no! She has a good relationship with both her parents and her extended family!

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well: Not in the drastic sense of things. She’s been through a few break ups, sure, but nothing that was abusive or crazy.

34. Have they ever self harmed: Yes. It’s something she still struggles with as an adult.

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be: Her scars. She’d make them disappear.

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them: She’s pretty well in control of her emotions.

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away: Not really, no.

38. Have they ever been imprisoned: Nope.

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do: Not in any serious sense. Her reputation for toeing the line was too well known for her to be accused of something she didn’t do.

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems: She did as a teenager, but dutiful therapy and self-care has helped her outgrow that habit.

41. Do they get sick often: Nope! She’s pretty healthy.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life: She’s content, but not complacent.

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts: Yes. Again, she doesn’t like her history with self-harm. If she could erase that, she would.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t: Travel. Her job’s pretty demanding as far as hours go.

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience: Melancholy. No matter what she’s doing, it’s sort of always hanging around her, like a tiny cloud.

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide: Yes. Unfortunately, it’s a side effect of the depression.

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide: A couple of times, when she was teenager.

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill: Outside of self-defense/the defense of others? No.

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through: Being forced to reject her identities as a Jew/person of Japanese heritage. Her families have made it through so much (internment camps, persecution, the Holocaust), and she’d rather die than erase her own identity.

50. Create your own: Alright, I’m gonna put the happy one here so we end on a high note!

She’s a firm believer in the need for “mah” (the Japanese word for “emptiness), or a moment to pause and do nothing. It’s easy to see that reflected in how she practices meditation, follows Shabbat, or takes time each day to simply be.

However, she also believes that the principle of “mah” is what makes her and Luis work so well as a couple. She is the silence to his constant chatter and helps him keep his feet on the ground. Likewise, he keeps her from living inside her head and helps her connect to the world.

They’re just such opposites attract. Ugh, I love them so much!

[nautilusopus]

The Number I

Chapter 15: Aeris Also Buys a Snack but Does Not Get Hit by a Truck in the Process

So this thing was originally one 12k+ chapter. That’s enough for two short chapters but pacing wise it’s meant to be one thing, so I’m gonna split it in two and post the next chapter the very next day.

Thank you @auncyen, @limbostratus, @cateringisalie, @cloud-and-tifa, and @fury-brand, the latter of which is indirectly responsible for a couple of the bits in here. 

There are holes in the world, and spaces between numbers. Neither should exist. Cloud starts noticing them, and he isn’t the only one who has. And unfortunately for him, he’s both. (Contains graphic depictions of violence.)

Aeris had been staring at Zack and Cissnei huddled around her phone for the last three hours. She knew it was three hours because the battery finally ran down on whatever terrible game they'd been emulating and Zack complained loudly about the fact that it was supposed to last longer. She was supposed to be reviewing the transcript -- she'd been the one the most pushy about their schedule, after all. It's not like there wasn't anything to review, either -- new information on how families were structured, this time without any nonsense about larvae and eggs; the absolutely clusterfuck awaiting her with the fact that she'd have to explain they were in contact with a civilisation that took an "anything goes" approach to both warfare, human rights, and diplomatic relations, that would be fun to deal with; and a few interesting tidbits that seemed to hint at a religion of some sort -- a mention of gods, plural, except on occasion only god, singular, and something rather curious about the planet asking for a name, and a mention of returning to it, clearly hinting at some sort of implied afterlife. She'd have to ask about that later. She had scribbled a note in shorthand that she probably wouldn't remember to check later and had let her attention wander.

Instead, she was thinking about how to best approach her coworkers. Waking up next to someone like that back in Cloud's room, it had been nice. It had been a long time since she'd experienced something like that -- maybe when she was eighteen and had begun dating for its own sake? She'd never really had much in the way of peers, due to being repeatedly jumped grades and put in classes with people several years her senior. And after that, her work had always made her too busy for any sort of social excursions. Besides, who would she even go out with in the first place?

Cissnei was already friends with her, or at the very least was an acquaintance, though she wasn't sure how comfortable she'd be with casual human contact (which was such a strange thing to be uncomfortable with, in her opinion). Zack was fueled by fifteen percent coffee and eighty-five percent machismo, it seemed like, which could either mean he'd been looking for an excuse to get extremely familiar with everyone, or did not even remotely consider anyone else here his equal. Tseng was allergic to fun. Angeal seemed good-humoured enough, but in a dry, professional way. Lazard was technically her physician and they weren't really supposed to get overtly familiar with their patients.

Teachers were easy enough to get along with, though. She wheeled her chair over to Angeal with a good shove off the counter.

"Busy?"

Angeal shrugged. "Not particularly. Much of my work won't be starting for another week or so, though I have gotten portions of it done early... was there something you needed?"

"A sounding board, preferably. I'd like to get my thoughts in order." She straightened her printed copy of the transcript out from their last conversation, reading over some of the more interesting parts of it. The interference seemed to be gone for now.

I talked to your friend.

Teefah (sp?), or Reeve?

Teefa. She seems nice. How long have you known her?

Years. you'd have to ask her that.

I see. How long is a year for you out of curiosity?

like in days?

Perhaps? For that matter, how long would you say a day is?

24 hours (clarify cesium-133 second standard later?).

Good. So how many of those in a year?

358, except when it's 360 every 6 years.

So then how old are you?

25, I think.

You don't know?

No. I don't remember a lot from before I was 14 (age of enlisting, maybe coincidence)

Any reason why?

Mako poisoning I think. It does funny things to your head.

Is it all just a big blank?

I remember Ma. don't know how she looked, or what she was like. she returned to the Planet when I was 16.

I'm sorry for asking but does that mean she's dead?

Yes. That's what that means.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Why are you apologising? you didn't kill her. hard to miss something you don't remember

Doesn't it bother you?

Of course it bothers me. but she's gone, and nobody's alive that remembers her. So there's no point in trying to get her back. it's not like I don't have a family now anyway.

"He's obviously hiding something big," said Angeal. "The question is, is he hiding it because it's personal or is he hiding it because he knows it's relevant?"

"How do you go about asking that?" said Aeris. "This is the first conversation we've had where he didn't tell me to fuck off once. If he knows it's relevant, he'd tell us, wouldn't he? So we have the information we need to move onto the next stage and stop messing with his head."

"Would he?" Angeal gestured to another page of the transcript.

Why are all the doctors afraid of you? Are they prejudiced? Are you a minority subspecies?

the last time I was in here I broke a lady's arm.

Why?

Said I would. I said, you stick me with that needle, I'll break your damn arm in half. I told her. I warned her. I'm a man of my word. Didn't need her fucking flu shot anyway.

"He doesn't seem to have much sense of what's good for him, is the point I'm trying to make," said Angeal.

"But what we're trying to do is going to directly benefit him --"

"I'm not certain he cares. He's very... spirited. Try appealing to his better nature."

Aeris gave him a look, then shook her head. "I'm going to try speaking to Tifa about it. She seems interested in his wellbeing. If I just explain to her we're trying to help... what do you think he could be hiding anyway?"

"...Maybe he's just embarrassed," offered Angeal.

"He's done all this over embarrassment? He said he'd tell me eventually. I don't understand why he's like this." She looked over the papers again. "He's younger than I thought."

"He's your age."

"He is." She's been thinking of him as older, but it seemed he was actually a year younger give or take. She'd gotten used to most people she knew being her senior by twenty years or so. The fact that she was technically the "adult" in this situation in more ways than one was something she hadn't considered. Perhaps that's why he'd calmed down as she'd stopped trying to prove herself to him. She went back to reading the transcript.

What does it mean, to return to the Planet?

It means a lot of things to a lot of people. But we all come from the Planet, and when we die, our souls return to it. For a long time, everyone thought that's what the Promised Land was, too

So you're Jewish?

I'm what?

Never mind. It's a religion. For instance, I'm a Jew. We have one god, and one day hope to return to the Promised Land. Do you have religions?

Yeah.

What's yours?

I don't know.

So, you don't believe in any of them?

I didn't say that. I just said I didn't know. I don't remember anymore. Same as Tifah's, I guess. With the gods of the hearth and the gods of the mountain and the sky, and their circular war.

And when you return to the Planet, do you meet these gods?

I mean, some people think that. I guess maybe I did too. I don't know. What are you asking, exactly? Returning to the Planet isn't a belief, like the gods of the hearth. It's a fact, like gravity.

I'm sorry. I didn't intend to be rude.

You weren't rude. I just don't get how you don't understand that.

"He's very devout," commented Angeal. Aeris shook her head.

"It was more than that. The way he said it..." she pondered, "he wasn't angry. It was... it was as though he really didn't know how I didn't know about his culture. It must be very ingrained. You know how every culture on Earth, or very nearly, has some sort of flood story, suggesting something like that really did happen?"

"So you're suggesting there was some... mass earthquake?" asked Angeal.

"Maybe. We could do with an anthropologist, too."

"How many spare rooms do we have left?"

"...Not enough for an anthropologist," admitted Aeris. "Nobody expected to find anything more than rocks and germs. They might shut the project down even if I hadn't thrown our ambassador into traffic, just because we're underprepared for this. Come back to it in another year or two."

"You think they would, after all this?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She stared at Angeal. She wasn't actually sure if they were closer or not. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter much -- they might not see each other again for a while if the entire thing was shut down. It was such a stupid thing to try and engineer, too.

Instead, she just got up and hugged him. She made her way around the room with everyone, even managing to get a confused hug back from Zack and Cissnei before heading back to her room to organise her findings.

There wasn't anything that was scientifically helpful. The atmospheric content had been useful information, at least. Though she couldn't imagine them ever getting to a point in her lifetime where she'd get to walk around on another world with no isolated air supply. She looked over the transcript again.

If you're not sure how old you are, is there any way you normally keep track of it?

We normally mark it based on the day you're born. I think I was born sometime in the summer, so we just decided it should be the first day of August.

August as in the month August? Did you have an Augustus Caesar?

I don't know. Haven't heard of them. But I'm not good at history.

Sorry. Continue.

So, every year we celebrate the day you're born with a small party. We call that a birthday.

We have those as well. Please continue to tell me about your celebratory customs.

She smiled a bit. That wasn't quite how the conversation had gone...

Do you do presents?

Yeah. Do you?

Aeris had been examining a patch of skin on her arm where she was sure there had been a needle hole. Injuries didn't seem to stick here, between this and the coma. She'd made a note to ask Cloud about that as well. But she hadn’t yet.

Yes. I got a bottle of very fancy champagne and some garden tools from a colleague. But my birthday is in the winter, so I had to wait until the ground thawed out to use them. The tools, I mean, not the champagne, she added with a hint of distaste. She hadn't really cared for the champagne, either. It had tasted terrible and not at all sweet, which probably meant it was extra expensive and it was extra undignified to say you didn't like it. Apparently she wasn't even supposed to open it, she was just supposed to let it sit on a shelf for another ten years.

I get tools for my birthday sometimes. Wrenches and screwdrivers, not garden tools. Don't really need 'em anymore, but it's nice when someone remembers I like that kind of thing. One time I got a knife, though.

What kind of a knife?

Hunting knife.

That big one under your pillow?

That's the one.

Have you ever stabbed anyone with it before?

No. There's never been any reason to. Not until recently, anyway, but then that's what I've got my sword for.

Was that a present as well?

It was, yeah. But it was from me.

Why a sword? Why not a gun? You have guns in your world, right?

Because I'm better with a sword. Duh. And because swords are better. If you're going to kill someone, you should do it with your own two hands instead of pressing a button. Have some respect.

Yes, but a gun would be a lot more efficient.

No it wouldn't. Not for me. And guns are stupid.

Yes, but --

Have you ever used a gun or a sword?

...I can't say I have.

See? You're in no place to talk.

So you're telling me, you've used a sword.

Yeah.

Instead of a gun, when a gun was an option.

Yeah. I don't know what part of this you're not getting. Maybe this is why someone got you gross champagne for your birthday instead of a real present.

It was expensive gross champagne, thanks. It's a huge honour to get gross champagne from your boss.

Are you sure it was even gross? Maybe you just don't like dry stuff. There's no shame in that. I get a lot of customers like that. Some people just can't handle it.

You work in a bar, that's cheating. Piss off.

And then he'd laughed. Or, something like it. A strange little burst of amusement that had her own mouth curling into a smile involuntarily.

Didn't think you had it in you, "ma'am". I bet it wasn't even bad. I bet it was really subtle and complex and you're a big baby that can't handle anything that isn't ginger ale.

Well, maybe I am. And maybe ginger ale is just good.

I never said it wasn't.

She'd begun editing what went into the transcript at this point. She was supposed to be learning about another culture and forging a path ahead for humanity, not debating with someone about swords and guns and birthday presents. Not to mention, with sections like the above, she'd been a bit too distracted to take note properly and had to hastily fabricate a couple generic lines on the spot so Lazard wouldn't think something had gone wrong because she had stopped "writing". She'd been getting more and more spotty lately. Hopefully no one had thought much of it.

She didn't know why she disliked the project so much now. This should have been a big turning point.

She awoke to someone shaking her and found Zack and Cissnei leaning over her bed.

"Don't do that," she reprimanded. "It's creepy."

"Sorry," shrugged Zack. "We were thinking -- do you wanna hit up a bar or something? To celebrate."

"This might be the last time we will get to work with each other for a while, depending on how things go," said Cissnei. "We should make the most of it. Grab something to eat."

Aeris smiled. "I'd like that. Maybe I can try out the champagne."

Zack blinked. "I... I guess you could, yeah."

Going back out through decon was much faster than coming in -- an hour later they found themselves switching places with the inspection crew, which was already waiting outside for them. They'd have a week to decide what to do from here while the facility was re-cleaned and restocked.

They found a small cafe several hours away, closer to civilisation. Cissnei had to do most of the talking for them, though Aeris insisted on ordering her own drink in broken French. Zack stood there, looking lost.

"The others didn't want to come?" asked Aeris, after she'd received her cocktail. They wound up getting a pizza to split. Zack had gotten a sparkling water, and Cissnei had surprised them both by requesting straight gin.

"Don't know. They left earlier this morning," said Zack. "We got three, right? Good enough. So..." he continued, lowering his voice, "no ovipositors, huh?"

"No," she said flatly.

"How do you know? Did you look?"

Aeris smacked him with her napkin. He shrugged.

"In all seriousness... we aren't gonna get to use any of the pictures. Everyone's gonna think they're fake."

"What's fake about them?" asked Cissnei.

"What do you think? 'We totally found aliens, you guys. They look just like us except they have cat eyes'."

"I mean, maybe it's a statement," said Aeris. "About how humanity thrives, so on and so forth." She paused to take a sip of her drink, then stopped. "Actually, maybe that's something to think about. People are the same all over, aren't they?"

"I guess," said Zack. "I don't know if they'll see it that way... man, we're getting shut down for sure."

Aeris glumly dug an ice cube out of her glass. That would probably be for the best, she knew rationally -- Cloud would probably be glad to never see her again, and no one would have to deal with any ugly politics in the event that two entire worlds' worth of geopolitical conflicts came into contact with one another. She wanted to continue, she knew. She also knew perhaps it was selfish to want it to continue, but she wasn't surprised she felt that way. What did surprise her was why.

The entire point of it had been furthering humanity as a species... well, actually no. No one actually bought into that. The entire point of it had been finishing her parents' work and following in their footsteps and clearing their names by showing her discovery to the world. That was the point, wasn't it?

When she'd been sitting there in that waiting room talking about guns and birthdays, the thought hadn't entered her mind. She found herself wondering if Cloud would want to talk to her again, and if she'd get a chance to pet that not-a-dog, and if Tifa would be willing to talk to her again about something less boring than the atmosphere.

She still wanted to do the project, of course. What did it matter why, as long as it got done? But it still felt like a betrayal of why she started this in the first place. Remaining professional about this wasn't a matter of her pride -- it was a matter of... family tradition? Maybe. It was important, even if she didn't have the right word for it.

"...I mean, because no one will believe what we found," amended Zack, getting the wrong idea from her silence, "not because we're all gonna be jailed for human rights violations."

"Keep your voice down," hissed Cissnei.

"I'm just saying. Maybe they'll be too distracted by the weirder bits to even notice the whole... y'know."

“Why are we still talking about the project?” said Cissnei. “We have been talking about the project for weeks.”

“Not me,” said Zack. “I just got here, remember? In comparison, anyway. If it weren’t for this thing I’d probably have just let them pick me up with the next draft. That stuff pays crazy good as long as you don’t do anything stupid like beat your girlfriend or make your pet dogs snort cocaine.”

“Draft for what?” asked Aeris.

“Basketball, probably. In case you hadn’t guessed,” he said, gesturing vaguely above his head to indicate his height. “I’d have probably gotten some free press just for being the first pro player with multiple doctorates. Get my career started early.”

“That was the deciding factor?” asked Aeris. “Your career?”

“Well, what about you? What did you do before you went and dumped your life into bothering some random asshole from Jiffy Lube?”

“Well… I finished school obviously. Then I went into physics after my parents. They were always talking about how important the project was, and since I had the skills to help --”

“You’re talking about it again,” Zack interrupted. “We need a non-project goal. Hobbies. Something.”

“...I’d always wanted to be a pilot, actually,” said Aeris. “At first it was just space shuttles, but then I got interested in aeroplanes for a while. That was what I was set on for a while, was flying.”

“So, why did that not work out?” asked Cissnei.

Because it was all entirely false and Aeris had never had more of a passing interest in flight before. But that was better than admitting that there hadn’t been a non-project goal; that her entire life had been working towards this moment, and now that it was here, it was…

...Ordinary. She didn’t know how something like that could be ordinary -- she’d met a bunch of aliens that were all sitting on some sort of enormous secret-that-wasn’t-a-secret. She’d made… if, perhaps not a friend, at least an acquaintance. It was all very exciting. But…

She don’t know if she expected some sort of epiphany. She certainly didn’t feel like one was coming on. An entire world had been opened up in front of her, quite literally, and she didn’t really feel like she cared. That didn’t make sense. She obviously did care, she did strongly hope they weren’t shut down after this. None of it made much sense.

Though, now that she was spinning a ten-minute lie about it, the plane thing actually seemed interesting too. She knew more about the subject than she thought. She wondered if Cloud knew how to fix a plane. If they had planes. They probably had planes, right? Reeve mentioned airspace violations, so they definitely had planes that maybe one day she could have a look at.

“I haven’t been on a plane in years,” said Zack. “Not until recently. Suddenly a bunch of ‘interested parties’ are in my face, and I’m being flown around everywhere, and there aren’t enough barf bags in the world.”

“What kind of interested parties?” asked Aeris.

“Same ones that started throwing money at you, I guess,” said Zack. He opened his mouth to continue, then shook his head and took a drink from his soda water.

“I like planes,” said Cissnei, shrugging. She was pushing around the ice cubes in her drink, looking glum.“I think they’re exciting.”

“With the rush to get to the terminal, and a bunch of strangers shoving you around?” said Aeris.

“No. It’s just fun to up and go somewhere else. Even if it’s work, it still feels like a vacation.”

“And how often do you actually get to go to the beach on these vacations?”

“Almost never. It’s usually a conference room full of old angry men.”

“The beach is overrated,” said Zack. “It’s nice, but it’s overrated.”

“You’re just over-beached,” said Aeris. “You’re spoilt on a beach that isn’t piss-cold all year.”

“It does too get cold.”

“Ten degrees is not ‘cold’.”

“Well, tell you what -- when all this is over, we’ll wait until the winter and we’ll see for ourselves.”

“How do you know you’d remember to keep in contact that long?”

“How do you know we'll even be in contact that long?" he retorted. Something must have shown on her face in response to that, because he suddenly looked uncomfortable and went back to eating.

“I’ll cover it,” said Cissnei as they got up to leave. “First useful thing I have done in weeks, no?”

“Come on,” Aeris huffed. “You’ve --”

“No, you come on!” snapped Cissnei, angrily throwing her money down on the counter. “I was only there that long because I wasn’t allowed to leave. Chances are I will not be reapproved for the second part of this, if there is one. It is the least I can do.”

Aeris exchanged an uncomfortable look with Zack, who was already on his way out the door. She left after him. “Look…”

“Tell me one useful thing I have done for the project,” she said, shoving the door out of her way.

“...You dumped what we had of the transcript the other day,” suggested Zack. Cissnei rolled her eyes. “Alright, whatever. You were useless. You happy?”

Aeris glowered at Zack. “Oh, come off it --”

“She was! I’m not saying anything everyone wasn’t thinking already,” he protested, as Cissnei sat there and glowered at him.

“...Alright, fine. Why’s she need a use? Maybe it was nice having her around,” Aeris fired back, standing on her toes to try and get her point across. God, he was tall.

“I’m right here!”

“Well then fine!” shouted Aeris crossly, rounding on her. “It was nice having you around!”

“Then thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

Zack was staring at them both, looking rather bewildered. “Is… this a European thing, or…?”

“Shove it, Fair,” said Aeris. Zack raised his hands in defense and turned away, still looking nonplussed.

“...I mean, I thought this was going pretty well,” he said after a few moments as they drove back to the airport. “Good talk.”

Aeris and Cissnei both made a general noise of assent.

“So… now we wait?” asked Aeris.

Zack nodded. “Seems so. Best case scenario, we’re all back in a week.”

Aeris didn’t ask for the worst case scenario. In truth, she wasn’t sure what it would be. The project continued, but they’d have to double down on the work? Or perhaps she’d be removed from the staff for mishandling the whole thing? Or maybe she’d be invited back, but everyone else would be gone. It wouldn’t really feel the same. Or perhaps they’d all be jailed, that wasn’t out of the question either. Or maybe the project would continue, but her backers would pull out and no one would believe the research. Or maybe CERN themselves would just shut the whole thing down. Or perhaps…

There really wasn’t anything to be done about the whole mess. She’d just have to hope for the best. At least Cloud would have a week to recuperate -- she got the sense he seemed high strung in general.

So, a week to mull things over. Just her and Shithead, and her work. For the project.

Zack tapped her on the shoulder, and she started slightly. "Thought I said not to do that."

"I tapped you. Doesn't count. Anyway..." he shrugged. "You and Cissnei already live here, and I don't really feel like getting on another twenty hour flight back to Hawaii just for a week. Would you care if I hung out at your place? Just for the week."

It was the kind of question he'd almost certainly asked on purpose. Had she really looked that disappointed?

"I know it's kind of out of the blue," continued Zack, as though he wasn't obviously asking for her benefit, "and I don't even know if you have a spare room, and I totally get it if you want your space, but..."

She really shouldn't, she knew. It was vastly inappropriate. But then, she'd also been living with these people for days on end anyway. And Zack seemed decent. And all professionalism had gone out the window the minute the medically advanced civilisation they'd made first contact with had been revealed to know the phrase "fuck you".

"Yeah, alright," said Aeris. "But I hope you're not allergic to cats."

They'd parted ways with Cissnei shortly after the plane ride, when she'd been nice enough to drop them off at the kennel first to pick up Cassiopeia, who yowled angrily the entire bus ride home.

"Is she usually this grouchy?" said Zack, as he swiftly withdrew his finger from the carrier as a set of claws swiped at it a moment later.

"No. She's an attention whore, and she's mad I didn't dote on her for ages," said Aeris. The bus rolled to a stop a few moments later.

"I got it," said Zack, and before she could say anything else he'd hefted their combined luggage in one hand and the carrier in another, its contents still hissing and spitting at everything she could see through the door.

She remembered, all too late, that the pan she'd cooked her eggs in was still in the sink. The house probably reeked -- yes, there was definitely a smell, she quickly realised as she stepped inside. At least she'd remembered to empty the litterbox.

Zack set down the carrier once they were inside and knelt by it. "Can I let her out?"

"Yes. Just keep her away from the patio. She likes to eat the plants."

She saw Zack carefully unlatch the door to the carrier, and watched as a very grouchy tortoiseshell streaked past him a moment later.

"She'll say hi later," said Aeris in response to Zack's somewhat offended look. "She's gonna have a good sulk first."

"So, am I staying on the couch, or...?" questioned Zack. If he noticed the smell, he wasn't acting like it.

"I've a spare room you can use," said Aeris. "I'll get something for us to eat later. Snacks are in the kitchen."

"It's just you here?" he asked.

"Well, me and Shithead," she said, gesturing towards the direction Cassiopeia had sprinted off in. "It's not all bad, really. I've got my work..."

Her work. Her parents' work, at least. Hers now. Her very very important work. Humanity. Something or other.

"Something wrong?" asked Zack. Aeris realised something must have been showing on her face and quickly flashed him a small smile.

"No. Just thinking about what to do in the meantime. We could try and organise our findings into something we could publish, but the whole thing might be pointless in a week, depending on how things go."

"Well... why don't we check the news? See if we're famous yet."

Aeris fetched her laptop from her room. She could have used the desktop computer, but she wanted to sit on a couch. She'd missed couches.

There wasn't much on the news about it that wasn't already common knowledge -- obviously they'd be debating about whether or not to publicly release the information.

Unsurprisingly, there was a lot of focus put on their age. A quick self-google had revealed Zack already had a small following of people interested in more mundane aspects of him than his scientific achievements. Aeris, too, had something of a following, though her name also turned up a number of conspiracy theories surrounding the failed bridging experiment, and how her parents had been taken in by the aliens on the other side and ascended to a higher plane of existence.

Aeris would have liked to believe that. She'd never been brave enough to look at the photos herself, but apparently there was a great deal of viscera everywhere that had clued authorities into the fact that, perhaps, there might not have been any survivors.

The computer was right there, though. Perhaps she should look. For closure. If there was ever a time for it, it was now, before everything they'd worked for came crashing down under its own weight.

She sighed and searched "gainsborough gast explosion remains". Zack, who was still sitting next to her, gave her an alarmed look.

"Are you okay?" he asked quickly, clearly convinced she wasn't.

"Yeah. Just... I wanna look," she said as nonchalantly as she could. She only succeeded in alarming him further. Too late now -- the picture had already loaded.

It wasn't actually as bad as she'd thought. But it was about what you'd expect from someone standing next to a very small hydrogen bomb. There wasn't as much... paste, there was no other way to describe it, as she thought there would be. Still a lot, though.

There. She'd looked. She closed the tab and went back to self-googling, then closed that tab when she inevitably found her head badly photoshopped onto a porn star's body.

"You're not worried, are you?" asked Zack. "It's totally safe, I promise. And we'll send rats through first, obviously..." He rubbed his neck nervously. "God, I shouldn't have been petting them. If any of them survive, at least one is getting dissected."

"I'm not worried," said Aeris distractedly. They wouldn't need to dissect all of them, surely. They'd need some alive to observe over the next few days anyway. And maybe if Cloud wound up dying from anything that developed from doing this, they'd find some other waypoint and whatever was left of his corpse would be used for educational purposes. And there would be others, probably, because there would be more visits now that there was an entire world to develop relations between, and it was her project after all, hers, she'd made such a fuss about that, her project, not her parents', she was doing this for her --

In that minute, she saw the whole of her life stretching out in front of her in two long, narrow paths -- one of more projects, and more terrified mechanics she'd have to possess. More guilt. More objective being put in front of her to complete, walling it in, stretching it further. More refining this project that had sucked everything she knew into it.

The other path was empty.

Aeris curled up further into the couch and turned the volume up on the television. Zack looked at her concernedly, but said nothing for a long while.

Cassiopeia had finally warmed up to her again by the time she went to bed -- perhaps the fact that she'd been living in a clean room for several days had removed her scent? Or perhaps she was getting used to smelling her again after it had faded from the house. That wasn't likely, though. The scent of humans tended to permeate whatever they were around. One only really noticed it was there when one stopped smelling it for a while.

God, it was so bizarre that she knew that now. So far, the smell thing definitely had to be the strangest part of that world, bar none.

Aeris had another strange dream that night -- one she'd had several times before she was eight years old at the zoo with her parents in front of her favourite exhibit, the ostriches. She'd always wanted a pet ostrich in those days. In the dream, they always came up to the fence and permitted them to dig her grubby, cotton candy-encrusted fingers into their feathers. A voice from behind caught her attention.

"Aren't you Dr. Gainsborough?"

Aeris turned around, but of course they weren't talking to her. Her parents had been approached by another pair of visitors. Her mother nodded graciously.

"You were in the news recently -- about the parallel universe thing, yes?" said one of them. "Amazing stuff, never thought I'd see something like that in my lifetime." He leaned in closer, looking at Aeris. "Is that your daughter?"

Her father nodded proudly. "Aeris. She's eight years old, and already in her ninth year."

The man laughed. "Well, now! The apple certainly doesn't fall far, does it? I expect she'll have quite a bit to contribute to the field when she gets older." The man crouched to address her directly. "Do you like physics, Aeris?"

"I like ostriches!" she had said proudly. That earned another laugh out of everyone present.

"With that kind of enthusiasm, she'll make a great scientist," said the man. Her parents leaned over her pen in the zoo with great interest.

"She's too small right now," said her father. "She can't help us yet. She'll have to get bigger first."

They had all hunkered down to watch her. She was exposed in the pen. She wanted to hide behind something, but there wasn't anywhere to hide in the fifth ring. There were thousands of people watching from the rails now, and her parents were lost in the crowd. Their faces blurred together into a leering, flesh coloured mass. They all had cameras, wanting to take a picture of the alien she had discovered, and she and Cloud were exposed for the world to see, the scientist and the project bound together in a single exhibit. She was trapped in skin that wasn't hers, and Cloud was desperately screaming in her ears to be let out. They were twisted together too deep, and when Tseng pulled her, she woke up inside the tank in Cloud's body again, and was moved back into the exhibit. She woke up again, in her bed, and she was still Cloud, and he was still pleading to be let out, and she woke up again, and was still Cloud. She was here, in this body, in this exhibit, forever.

She woke up a fourth time and immediately grabbed a mirror. Just her own sweat-slicked face staring back at her this time. Her own hands, not pockmarked by battle scars, but not familiar either -- no dirt under the nails from her garden, due to the thorough decontamination weeks ago.

She got up right then and there and went downstairs to the patio. She'd never gardened in the middle of the night before. First time for everything, she supposed. She needed the dirt back right now.

She was woken up by Zack, who looked rather alarmed at this point. He tossed her a blanket.

"Jesus Christ, do you always sleep outside in the dirt?"

"No. Just... wanted to check on the plants. It's been a while, you know?"

"Whatever, lady. Aren't you cold?"

"No," she said as she began to shiver. Good thing it had been late summer.

"...Alright. Well, if I've got permission to go through your kitchen, I wanna make breakfast. If there's anything I missed, it's cooking."

“You cook?” asked Aeris, following him inside. Everything was sore. This was a mistake. She was never sleeping outside again, ever.

“I mean, as a hobby, yeah.” He began going through her cupboards. “Do you cook much?”

Aeris shook her head. “I was never much good at it. Never learned before, and haven’t really bothered to.”

“Well, you’re missing out,” said Zack, as he began chopping up some of the vegetables he had insisted she buy, even though she really didn’t bother with cooking from scratch, with a couple exceptions. It was a lot easier to just buy something canned, season it, and get back to work. “It’s really just chemistry, you know -- monosaccharides will brown if you heat them at this temperature, but introducing lipids will slow that reaction by this percentage -- and then you get to try and figure out how exactly long in your head.”

“And that’s fun for you?”

“What is? Cooking? Yeah, obviously.”

“I meant, guessing at things, for its own sake.” Aeris began to feel a bit useless, and decided she might as well make tea with what little space the stovetop offered.

“Oh, that too. Part of why I got into basketball, you know. If you know where the ball is gonna be before anyone else, it makes the game a lot more interesting.”

“So, why didn’t you just go into basketball?” asked Aeris. Whatever Zack was doing with those vegetables, it smelled amazing. “Seems like you’d enjoy it a lot more.”

“I don’t,” he said shortly, as that odd look passed across his face for another moment. “...I mean, not as much as theoretical astrophysics,” he said, flashing her another obnoxious movie star grin. She rolled her eyes. “Although I guess at this point it’s not really theoretical anymore…”

“Now, cooking,” he added, as he switched the stove off and dumped the contents of two different pans into bowls and fetched them a couple plates, “cooking I could get into. Who knows, maybe once we’re all fired I’ll go on Chopped or something.”

Aeris helped herself to a few generous spoonfuls of everything and took an experimental bite. Her eyes watered.

“Oh, wow,” she said.

Zack raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic -- what is this?”

“Not anything fancy or anything -- sauteed some mushrooms and onions in butter, and, uh… we didn’t have sausage or anything, so I improvised,” he said, gesturing to an empty tin of corned beef hash. “Mixed the eggs and rice in with it, threw in some red pepper and a little cheese. Shit, we shoulda got some fruit too...”

“I have fruit,” said Aeris, and quickly got up and left the table for the patio again with an empty bowl. She came back with it filled with strawberries.

“Grew them myself,” she said, as she began rinsing them off in the sink. "I've got edible herbs out there as well."

"Wish I'd known that earlier. Remind me about that later."

"Remind yourself," said Aeris, taking her plate and the bowl of strawberries and sitting on her couch next to Shithead. Zack uncertainly followed her. She dug the remote out from under the blanket she'd left it buried in a lifetime ago and switched on the television.

The news was on. Some important-looking doctor was discussing Tseng's presence on the project and his credentials, and what a huge deal it was that he was involved in this monumental endeavour.

"I think we should change the channel," said Zack quietly. Aeris nodded and flipped to a competitive baking show as Shithead marched her way across her lap to demand attention from Zack.

They spent the week stubbornly ignoring the outside world. Aeris went back to fending the cat off from her herbs. Zack didn't even bother changing out of his pyjamas for most of it, except to make another grocery run. He seemed to have taken her comment about his cooking skills as a personal challenge, and it had become clear early on that he was showing off, although Aeris had no trouble admitting she was actually impressed, even if it did make him insufferably smug. She preferred smug to the grinning mascot she'd encountered in the facility, though. He seemed less on-edge here. And perhaps it was just his face, but he seemed to look happier when he wasn't actually smiling.

She'd miss him when he left.

[intjsassypants]

Buying a Chair

Sales Person: Welcome to Furniture Store, may I help you find anything?

James Bond Villain: Yes, I would like to buy a chair an evil chair.

SP: Well I don’t know if we have evil chairs.

JBV: Menacing yet stylish, lime my villainous countenance.

SP: Do you have a look you’re going for?

JBV: Well I was thinking about going for steampunk post-modern Pier One, but then I remembered that I had taste, I’ve really been into sleek, minimalist, a lot of metal, shiny- but not blingy 50s-60s feel.

SP: Like what people back then thought-

JBV: Yes that’s, I just love that all white room at the end of “2001: A Space Oddesy”.

SP: Well whatever your lair looks like-

JBV: It’s an old soviet bunker/missile silo that I purchased from the Russian mafia.

SP: Sounds like it’s cozy and insulated.

JBV: It is, one day I just decided to scream and all my minions could hear was me screaming reverberating off the walls- they were completely terrified, but at least they knew they were safe.

SP: I think we have what you’re looking for, it’s kind of in the corner over here. No one else really-

JBV: Do you think Andy Warhol would bang someone in it?

SP: Yes?

JBV: That’s exactly what I’m looking, it’s one of those spherical, circle shaped, you have earned your commission! Does it come in white?

SP: Or silver.

JBV: No white, and what about the interior fabric? I was thinking of a pop of color, like orange. Not that there’s nothing wrong with beige but a bright blood orange just screams “I have been captured by a menacing menace with excellent taste- and didn’t gauchly go full red.

SP: You want to stand out?

JBV: Yes, that’s what I want in prole speak. What features does it have, I have special villainous needs that your organization might not be able to meet.

SP: That costs extra, but it can be done.

JBV: Oh Goodie, don’t worry, I’m not one of those poor shabby terrorist chic villains. Look at me we have one chair, a dark room, rope, a blindfold, and one lightbulb, wow I’d be scared of me. Goateed Spock, you can get all of that at Menards. Our cafeteria is amazing, if you’re thinking about changing careers.

SP: No thank you, I appreciate it but I’ve been with Furniture Store for 2 years, I think they’re promoting me to manager. What specific villainous needs do you have?

JBV: A cup holder, and a tray table. Sometimes I get peckish waiting for my captives to come to, and I swear I’ve told them I can only scroll through Instagram so many times.

SP: Oh, I hear you, are there any more features you’d require?

JBV: Spinning, with speed options. Slow, but not too slow for when I need to demand millions of dollars from Paula White, or fast for when one of the minions makes an oopsy.

SP: Can’t you just wait, facing them, looking at them?

JBV: Yes, I’m currently doing that now, and honestly we’re getting kind of tired of each other, is that feature that I requested not available?

SP: No, it will just take some finagling and engineering, anything is possible at Furniture Store.

JBV: Good, and delivery.

SP: What’s your address?

JBV: I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, or my name, or my, I’m paying in cash.

SP: So pick up?

JBV: Yes, and if it requires special installation who should I kidnap? I will compensate them handsomely.

SP: Do you compensate everyone you-

JBV: Not unless they have especially useful skills. One morning I just woke up really craving an omelette, and one of my minions used to be a dishwasher for Emeril Lagassi-

SP: You kidnapped someone for an omelette?

JBV: Yes, the invisible hover car needed to be tested anyway, does your girlfriend have an Etsy store or something?

SP: No, but my cousin does.

JBV: What does she make?

SP: Cat stuff, she sells a lot because the internet.

JBV: Does she, thank you, did she just give you-

SP: Yes.

JBV: That whore, you should tell her who’s boss.

SP: She’s her own boss.

JBV: That being impressive and quite the accomplishment aside, when should I expect my chair to be ready?

SP: Since this is a special request for-

JBV: Jared from Subway.

SP: Jared from Subway, I’ll have to talk with the owner, and then-

JBV: If you give me that ottoman on wheels over there no questions asked I will agree to your terms.

SP: This vase is also on sale.

JBV: Hmmm, the sex worked for one of my minions, maybe she’ll like it.

SP: I’ll just also throw that in no questions asked-

JBV: Do babies like home décor? It can strike its baby enemies with it.

SP: Or home invaders.

JBV: No, their condo is super secure, it was her birthday last year and she has been with me for a long time. I was forced to vaporize most of her coworkers, but she really…kittens. The baby daddy also promised to make an honest woman out of her.

SP: So I’ll be in touch with you within the week.

JBV: Yes, here’s my burner cell phone number.

SP: I thought you’d have a top-secret secure channel or something.

JBV: Oh no, the NSA and Israel have f’ed that all up, the Jews. I’m sorry, I don’t. The Jewish people are not indicative of their governing authorities but, some shady stuff- arms deals.

SP: Were you ever a part of-

JBV: I’ve already told you too much, here is money, goodbye!

SP: Is this a down payment for the chair?

JBV: I also like this throw pillow, it’s for that!

SP: That was part of the, you forgot the ottoman.

[cisphobeofficial]

[a black-and-white photo of a group of 10-12 white men and women laughing and goofing off outside in 1940s German military uniforms. The text below the photo reads: 

This picture always struck me, because unlike so many photos of the time, it’s so relaxed and unposed - just a bunch of coworkers, having fun. But this is a resort called Solahutte. It was built for these people, and it was 18 miles from where they worked, a place called Auschwitz. It was built to give them a break from their very important work. 

These smiling, happy people were on their day off from putting Jews in ovens.

A lot of times people will say that they look at the faces in photos like these and try to understand. But I don’t need to try. I understand these people thoroughly. Those two on the left in the front? They were besties, party girls, just waiting for the war to be over so they could get down to the business of finding husbands and enjoying their twenties. Blonde boy behind them? A bit awkward but always up for a laugh.The guy with the accordion learned it from his grandpa, but never had any intentions of playing professionally- it was good for parties, though.

They had their fun out there in the woods - it’s good sometimes to get away and just leave your worries behind, isn’t it? - and then they got back in their cars and rode back to the camp and they got on with the business of genocide. The party girls, they were in charge of noting down every possession they took from the incoming as they went through processing. Blondie? He told the children, sternly but not unkindly, how important hygiene was, as he led them to the showers. Herr Accordion? A laboratory assistant to Doktor Mengele, absolutely marvelous at keeping to equipment clean and organized - that was his real skill, not just laying down a rousing chorus of “Horst Wessel” when the beer was flowing, and he was much valued for it, and the fact that he always remembered your birthday and asked about your family. That’s important when you’re stationed far away from them, isn’t it? To have someone who reminds you of normal life, just waiting on the other side of the Allied surrender.

Of course. That’s exactly who they were. And absolutely none of it negates the fact that the nice people in this photo were fucking monsters, many of whom ended their war at the end of a rope or in front of a firing squad. And you know what? I bet they did it crying, begging, screaming that it wasn’t fair, that they had a job to do, that’s all, they were given a job and they were expected to do it, and what would you have done in their place? 

That, right there, is the most important question you have to ask yourself. It’s one I’ve pondered my entire life. And I know my answer: I would never allow myself to be put in the position of finding out. I’d rather run or die. It’s why I never could have been a cop or a soldier. The lesson I learned from these people was to never put myself in a position where I was required to do evil in the name of following orders. And I have very little sympathy for those who choose otherwise.

There are not good people on both sides. There are party girls and weekend polka players everywhere, people who are kind to their children and bake extra cookies for their neighbors, but some people choose to be the instruments of horror and others do not, and history is rightfully merciless to the former. 

So when you tell me that some of the people in America espousing the same madness that these people in this picture committed atrocities for are really not that bad if you get to know them, that there are good people on both sides, I don’t believe you. Because I do know them. And I do not care.]

[ventingrightnow]

Friday was a great day

I walked in to him mentioned my funny puns I made for him. Him bragging about me to others. Indian Boss. I made coffee and he came over and said “I still love all those puns you made me” and I could tell he was impressed. Then every time (or at least a few times) he went to get water he would look over at me, say my nickname, and talk to me. He needed me to do some scheduling (like he can’t look at bald boss’s calendar himself) and I told him to just CC me on the email and he said he felt bad doing that. I later mentioned it again and he goes “no You shouldn’t have to do that” “what, my job?” “Yeah but you’re not supposed to do that for me, I’m not important” (or something like that) and I tell him that I’ve scheduled for nearly everyone in the office, outside of dev.

God that panic attack I had when I heard him talking about the charity event he had to go to and then the house warming party. I can’t describe it. It was like (here I go, describing it, lmao) my heart sank and my chest tightened and then my stomach filled with electricity. Short of breath. Nerves at a high. It’s terrible. I had to go by his desk, pretending to ask about some stupid key card shit asking about his weekend plans. Charity event he went with some friends. No worries there. Then he had that boat bachelorette party which I found more humorous than anything else. Couple people brought it up to me like “did CRUSH tell you what he was doing this weekend?” And i say yeah and I think it’s hilarious and then 50+lbs is nearby and CRUSH says he’s invited and I go “YOU INVITE 50+LBS AND NOT ME??” He talks about keeping the ratio up and I say that by adding me he keeps the ratio high .... or low ... and he laughs and says I’m gullible, that he’s bringing no one and “can you imagine showing up and being like, hey, we’re here and oh this is my friend” friend. No coworker. Friend. He also asked about his friend who matched with me on hinge “you know, my friend who swipes.” “Oh yeah we matched” “did you hook up? No, actually I don’t wanna know” “yeah we chatted, he told me he had a motorcycle” then he says that he hated that thing and that he always tried to get CRUSH to go on a ride to the boat and he thought he was crazy. CRUSH showed me this video of an interior of a courvette, and I ask him why he needs such expensive toys considering the implication that people with those kinds of toys are vain and have small dicks. He said “I like keeping expectations low and then disappointing them anyway” haha he listened to a voicemail from his mom on speaker at the fridge, got to listen to her say she loved and missed him and I mouth “who is that?” “My mom” “awww” chubby jew sales asked me towards the end of the day with CRUSH nearby, “what are three characteristsics you would use to describe someone with a courvette” I quickly go “self-involved” think for a good 20 seconds “heterosexual, small-penis”

So much happened that Friday. We did the 12 gun salute for our final intern, or should I say one nerf assault, got that bitch on camera and at the end you can see him look at me, smiling, after I ‘woo’ once it’s over. Then he was at my desk, caught me labeling my Polaroid book, checked out the photos from the hoopla, mistook the whole album for the hoopla, I quickly corrected saying it was just those 5 pictures, then he still goes through it, first photos he sees are of me and my wife at the Gala and he comments that we looked great, or very nice or whatever he said, of course now I can’t remember. He continues all the way to the second page and then gets distracted and leaves. I bring over the photo of me in the robe in Jamaica to his desk and go “how amazing is this photo” and he goes “this is awesome. You look like a baby” “thank you! ... I don’t know if that was a compliment, but I’ll take it” haha

He was at my desk and one of the drawers was open, saw old cigar boss’s ID photo and picked it up, saddened by it. Says he remembers the day because he was there with Trump Dev. I say that I’ve already given him one hug so I’m out. We ended up leaving together “by accident” (I started packing my shit the second I heard him packing his, and then loudly said, I gotta get out of here) then stood up with my backpack and he was there with his and I go, “quit stalking me geez” and we walk out together. He asks me to put his umbrella in his backpack and then we get in the elevator. He says he’s walking home and I ask about his new place, slipping in the question about a housewarming party and he says he’s gonna have it when his place isn’t a shithole so I go “oh so never?” “Yup” haha

He came by my desk once, sneaking up behind me but I saw him from the corner of my eye. So he asked me something and he goes “ah, was trying to scare you” then he later came by, maybe a few hours later and did in fact scare me cause I genuinely did not see him coming by and I go “there, you scared me”

We also were all bullying him about a subway salad, and at the end he goes “yeah everyone keep making fun of me and my food” and I go, “you’re fat and you go to subway” flippantly and he genuinely laughs. I ask him if the salad is made with the same lettuce they use on the sandwiches and he says yes and I catch a laugh/snort and he laughs.

The final intern left that day and he wrote us goodbye notes, the sales team got one to share, I got my own, and CRUSH asks where it is (after I tell him about it) and I get up to go to NewBaby Sales’ desk and get it for him and look over his shoulder as he reads it and his scent is fuckin STRONG AND AMAZING and I literally stand there at his shoulder reading the card and breathing so deeply and silently that I could’ve OD’d from the aroma holy shit I can still smell it now, fucking amazing. Ugh. Smelt like ... sweet cologne. Not floral, no harsh. Just ... yes.

He was talking about that day he went solo on the boat with TrumpBlonde, after I had brought up wondering if his dad and sister were going to this bachelorette party since he went solo with TrumpBlonde, and he said something that was like “yeah, best day of my life” and I heavily rolled my eyes and I could tell he noticed it annoyed me that he was talking about her and he ups the anty by saying that he’s pregnant with her baby and I laugh.

Later on I hear him talking to chubby sales and chubby jew sales, chubby Jew sales routines bullies him but in a less funny way, like, it seems like he wants to be him but also is so happy not to? Anyways, he was picking on him for hooking up with a lot of women and said that CRUSH probably has an STD and then it cut in and out but I hear them talk about the nuvaring and chubby Jew sales doesn’t know what it is and I loudly go “it’s female birth control” WHAT? It’s lady birth control. “No it’s not” “wait, what’d you say?” “What’d you think we said?” Chubby Jew sales leaves to go smoke a cigarette and was also feeling uncomfortable and I go back to work and they talk for a few minutes before them both asking what I thought they said, and I ask them back, what did they say, we go back and forth for like a full ass minute and then I look at chubby sales and mouth “what did he say?” And he goes “NR?” I’m like oh yeah the nuvaring, and they go yeah, and I’m like, it’s female birth control, I’m not wrong. They seem extremely confused and I go, do I need to give you a lesson on what a Nuva ring is, they say yes, and I bring a chair over and say “from personal experience...” and explain the various aspects. CRUSH goes “yeah it’s a ring you put in and leave there forever” I explain the timeline (3 weeks in 1 week out, you get your period, then you put it back in) and the fridge aspect blew their minds. “Well why does it have to be kept in the fridge?” “Well the whole thing is that it slowly releases birth control when in you, and you’re a warm place —“ “ohhhh” hahah it was fun and funny, I didn’t mind explaining it not felt uncomfortable telling two of my coworkers I’m on birth control lmao chubby sales says that you can’t feel it when doing it and I say that I’ve had no complaints, “it’s like ... rubbed for her pleasure” LMAO then they spent a good twenty minutes doing “the move” from dirty dancing, singing the song “I’ve had the time of my life” and CRUSH keeps flinging his chest at chubby sales and chubby Jew sales until he eventually decks chubby sales in the face. Whoops lmao “I feel like I’ve blown your mind this week.” “You have!” “Nuvarings and that stand up set? My gosh ...” (also idk if I’ve posted this yet but remember when he asked dental floss for that photo of us on the jet ski? I gotta remember to get that. I feel like I saw it and it wasn’t that great lmao)

I posted earlier some “50 signs he’s into you” or whatever work-related romance BS and I think one of them (I think, like I can’t just fuckin look it UP) is that he makes up reasons to talk to you and he’s 100% doing that cause not only can he 100% schedule on his own, and most likely has been for a YEAR, but he’s been CCing me on random ass emails? Like he doesn’t know that all billing goes to literally anyone but me? Or his little donut project? I’m telling you, he likes me. There are some days where I feel bad about myself or how I look but when I come to work, I see him, I make him laugh, it makes me smile, he makes me laugh, and I smile and all that insecurity fades away and I feel like ... I feel like a ... I feel beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful. I know this is a pipe dream, that we can’t be together and that he’s in this fuckboi phase of getting over his ex and being a hot 29 year old, but ... I like the way he makes me feel. I crave going to work. The weekends are fucking agony now. I can’t date anyone because I’m obsessed with him. And I’m not ... sometimes I hate it because it’s kinda hopeless and I can see people just sigh at me and look at me like I’m some idiot and I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. I’m fully aware. But ... for now ... and for the past year really ... we’ve been flirty friends. And that’ll remain the same. It’s not healthy. But, it’s happening and until I come to an impasse, I’ll continue looking like a hot bitch and an internal hot mess.

[openanonymity]

Facebook As A Political Podium

I think today has been a day where I'm just annoyed with everything. It started with a truck driver totally fucking up the flow of traffic downtown. He almost caused a car accident with his shitty driving. Then I looked over the Learned League questions for the day, which appeared to be relatively easy today, as I got three right for the second straight day. I made the foolish mistake of checking Facebook. There, I saw two posts put up by different people which I'm assuming voted for our Asshole In Chief. The first post was showing a video of workers at what I'd imagine is an oil refinery, or something similar. The men were doing some high risk labor, and the caption read something like "fast food employees are fighting for $15/hour; this is what $15/hour looks like". I was close to leaving an extensively long comment about hourly wages. I'm not an economist or a business expert, but I feel the need to chime in sometimes with what I believe, because from my perspective, they're saying that if you work fast food, you're not worthy of making an hourly wage that requires your fingers and toes on which to count. I totally agree that a fast food employee isn't on the same skill level as someone who works at an oil refinery. But there is this illusion that everyone believes about the fast food industry, is that it only consists of teenagers and "entitled millennials" who expect a handout. Here's the thing: NOT ALL MILLENNIALS ARE EXPECTING HANDOUTS. They're not like the billionaire "too big to fail" corporations that the politicians we're given no choice to vote for are helping bail out every time the economy shits a cinder block and collapses. So, as I was saying, not everyone who works in the fast food industry barely making minimum wage is a teenager. There are older people who work full time for the following reasons: -They dropped out of high school -They are working toward getting their GED -They are single moms or dads trying to provide for their families, just like those of us in white collar office jobs -They got laid off and this was the only place hiring -They retired and still didn't have enough money in their pension/401k -They just came into the country and this is the only place that would hire an immigrant These are the people who are fighting for that $15/hour pay, and to deny them that right because the job isn't skillful enough is a bullshit excuse. They put up with all of us and our shitty attitudes. They have some high risk factors in the workplace too, such as handling hot grease, avoiding wet spots on floors, and using proper safety procedures when handling sharp objects such as knives and whatnot. Those who work oil refineries I would imagine took on an apprenticeship or went to a trade school to learn the skill set required for the job. I'd also believe it's a unionized industry, much like electrical workers, pipe fitters, etc. They have the privilege to go on strike if their wages or working conditions aren't up to par, and they probably put in a ton of hours each week doing what they do. I have a hard time believing they make $15/hour. They should be making much more. But if they do indeed make $15/hour, the unions should be stepping up and pushing for higher wages. $15/hour isn't a hard goal to reach for fast food employees. Also, why is everyone so against wage increases? I'm sure the amount I'm making was the same amount a middle management employee was making 20+ years ago. Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you increase the minimum wage, doesn't everyone else's wages increase as well? When I worked at Wendy's, that was the case. They bumped me up an extra 30-40 cents hourly when the minimum wage went up. When you raise everyone's wages, it's good for the economy. People are more willing to spend their extra income, invest their money into more things such as a 401k, 529 plans, stocks, Roth IRAs, etc., and even purchase houses and cars. If you don't increase people's wages at the same rate that the cost of living increases, you put the workforce at risk of stressing out, being overworked just to make ends meet, and certain markets suffer greatly, such as the housing market. It's a chain reaction/domino effect. Increase fast food workers' wages to $15/hour (which I'm guessing would be a 30% increase), and increase everyone else's wages who make below $75k/year by that same percentage increase and you will see a much better economy. The only reason we are fighting about this is because the CEOs refuse to increase the wages, saying their profits will be hurt, while they give themselves ungodly pay raises and bonuses. The other thing I caught on Facebook was someone posting a picture of Colin Kaepernick with the caption "Colin Kaepernick is still a free agent". I know for a fact the person who posted this hated Colin Kaepernick for refusing to stand for the national anthem. I know a lot of people hate him for doing that. But here's the thing. He is/was protesting the anthem for a good reason. We don't hear the full national anthem when it is sung. There are more verses, and one includes a line that glorifies the murdering of slaves, but he was also exercising his first amendment right to sit down because he can't salute the flag of a country that isn't truly free, when cops are killing innocent black men and women. According to him, this will truly be a free country once the police quit racially profiling minorities and open fire on them when they haven't done anything wrong. Being black, Latino, Muslim, LGBT, Jew, or anything that isn't white, male, heterosexual, or Christian subjects you to oppression, bullying, and even worse, your eventual death. Perhaps I'm sounding a bit extreme, but to many people, this is the case. Kaepernick was the quarterback of my favorite team, and I think with nobody signing him yet, it makes the NFL look bad. This is a League that allows rapists, murderers, and domestic violence/child abusers to roam freely throughout the league after serving punishment that is nothing more than a slap on the wrist, but if you prefer to deflate your footballs or sit during the national anthem, you're a disgrace to the country and the league. Fuck the NFL and fuck the person who put up that post. She's about to be unfriended. So, with all that said, I was doing my delivery this morning and one of the tech guys asked me if my coworker was taking the buyout. That's been the big talk at my 9-5. Apparently, this guy is taking it. Good for him. I told him if I was in my coworker's situation, I'd take the buyout and likely leave the country, especially with the current political climate. I should've known the guy voted for Asshole In Chief. We got into a long debate about politics and spoke about immigration, tax returns, etc., and he said nobody had given past presidents a tougher time. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!? Where were you the past 8 years when the Republicans had done EVERYTHING they could to block anything and everything Obama did, even going as far as to suggest he's not born in this country and a socialist or communist Muslim terrorist? I told this guy every candidate released their tax returns, how does orangeface get a free pass? I didn't say orangeface, but I was very close. At that point, I kind of stopped listening to him even when he said don't leave the country, I was like "it won't get any better under this administration, they're reversing everything that was good about this country. Then, on my way to the van, one of the cleaning guys gets on me about being parked at the loading dock. I sarcastically apologized, and when I left, I noticed the Pepsi truck was still parked at the other loading dock. So, my main complaint here is that this fucking troll knew the Pepsi truck was there, why not go to the fucking cafeteria and find that driver, tell him to move if he wasn't using the loading dock? He's not an employee of this company, but I am. I'm done with today. Can it be Saturday already?

[alia15]

Comfortable Racism

As many of you know, I have a “Rant of the Day” segment on my blog that I try to do every month or so.  As a little ‘behind the scenes’ action to how I come up with material for these, well... I just observe them in my everyday life.  Any time I’m irritated, inconvenienced, enraged or impatient because of something, I jot it down in the Notes section of my phone to include in a later #ROTD post.

One of the things I’ve had on the list for a while?  The term “comfortable racism.”

But I got to thinking recently, and this doesn’t belong in a lighthearted, intended-to-be-humorous segment on ‘AA.’  This is more serious than that.  This isn’t a pet peeve or a slight nuisance like folks who take 37 minutes to take money out of the ATM or people who don’t arrange their food on the grocery store conveyor belt thing to fit your stuff (seriously though, I HATE that).  No.  This topic doesn’t belong among fluffy silliness like that.

This gets its own post.

I don’t know that there’s a technical or official definition to the term “comfortable racism,” but to me -- it’s the notion that a person feels so secure in their offensive and inappropriate thoughts about other people’s race that they feel empowered and content to outwardly share them with others.  

In other words, if you’re like me, you incorrectly assumed that in 2017 racists would feel ashamed, embarrassed or uneasy sharing their racist beliefs and mindsets, but...nah.  No, instead it seems as though something -- or someone -- has made them feel lately like it was OK.  I’m not gonna name any names, though.

what?  I didn’t write his name.

The first time I ever encountered something like this was many years ago at a job (NOT the one I have now) where a douchey, arrogant, wealthy WHITE male coworker saw my Gucci bag and bluntly stated, “Nice bag!  I feel like Gucci recently became kind of a [N-word] brand, though.”  He then immediately followed it up with, “Right?”

Right?!  Don’t you agree with my disgustingly racist comment?!?! 

(I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him say this -- he once also called Barack Obama the “Anti-Christ” when he saw I was reading his book. #RollsEyesForever)

But this was the first time a person had interacted with me seeming all too comfortable expressing their distasteful and abhorrent commentary and THAT’S when I realized there were now two things to be furious about:

The horrendously racist comment and term used, and -

The fact that another person thought that I was someone they could say that to.

Well, he quickly learned I wasn’t.

It’s been about 8 years since that happened, and guess what?  I didn’t stand for it then and I sure as shit don’t stand for it now.

These are some of -- but certainly not all -- the racist things men I’ve recently dated or gone out with have done or said in my company:

Questioning why the boardwalk in my town was so “dark” (AKA, a lot of non-white people there).

Asking me if I’d ever dated or hooked up with a black guy and when I said no, tried to high-five me.

Responded, “well, I’m kinda racist” when I told him I had ended things with ANOTHER guy for being racist. (Oh, well then.  Good to know.)

I’ve listened to litanies arguing against the Black Lives Matter Movement and Affirmative Action.  I’ve heard disparaging comments about Jews, Asians, Middle Easterners, Latinos and African Americans.  I’ve heard comments about black people being criminals, lazy and uneducated. I’ve heard the N-word used like it was a term of endearment and therefore when I got mad they defended it like it was OK to use it that way -- ya know, because they have black friends!  

[Side note: read this thread on Twitter if you have time -- it’s another woman’s story of comfortable racism in the dating world.  Click HERE.]

The end result in every scenario you see above?  I leave.  I stop seeing these people.  I get into heated debates and arguments and I stand up for my beliefs and what I feel is right, and then I leave.  

That’s what you have to do in 2017 America where it’s become grossly apparent that the once closeted racists are now coming back out of the woodwork.  And you don’t just encounter it in the world of dating; you see it in the news every day: swastikas on subways, offensive graffiti, a significant rise in hate crimes, racial epithets screamed at others in public, bomb threats to Jewish Community Centers, students and professional adults getting caught for despicable racism (remember the West Virginia official who publicly called Michelle Obama an “ape in heels?”)...I mean, the list goes on and on.  You can read more HERE. 

Hell, go to any article you read on the Internet and READ THE COMMENTS, for Christ’s sake.

So what can you and I do?  We can’t ‘cure’ racism, sadly.  But we CAN fight back and defend our stance when we find ourselves as witnesses to this stuff.  We can let people know we’re not tolerating their ignorance and won’t stand for it.  We can stand up for anyone we see being mistreated, harassed or threatened.  We won’t just sit back idly and let people feel comfortable with their racism around us.  We can unfriend and unfollow on social media and tell our “friends” exactly why we did.  Where applicable, we can punish those for this kind of behavior; showing them there ARE repercussions for this ugly low-life behavior.  

We don’t need to ‘Make America Great Again;’ we need to make racists afraid again. 

Are you with me?

[ninjagoestogreece]

THE ECONOMY OF UNDERSTANDING

     I happen to be involved with an amazing Creative Writing program in the states, focusing in poetry and non-fiction. The latter instills a need to explore that I’d always had but never quite had the right excuse to act upon -- to be a sort of secret agent, collecting information by innocuously joining a community and getting involved. And nothing quite says “secret agent” like donning a slinky black dress and attending a forum on global economics, right?

     The Delphi Economic Forum is quite the prestigious event, attended by company heads, former and current ministers throughout the EU, assorted diplomats, Greek business students, press, and even Greek-American USC president Harris Pastides (a long-time friend of our very own former president Jay Lemons). Stretching over four days, the forum included panels centered on the mid- to long-term view (2020-2030) for Greece, the Mediterranean, and the global community. Topics ranged from growth and innovation in the private sector in Greece, to the effects of Brexit and a possible Grexit on the EU, to Greeks living in diaspora communities, to higher education reform, to the global rise in populism, to -- of course -- the new POTUS and his distrust of NATO. A delicate cocktail of public policy, law, creativity, cultural norms, opportunities, and international relations keeps Greece on its toes, and often, grasping at straws for ways out of their now seven-year-old economic crisis.

     I came in with little to no understanding of the economic crisis in Greece, or even international politics in general. Keeping up to date even within the US, the third-largest country in the world with a legislative branch that staffs literal hundreds of people, is a feat -- especially considering how the last sixteen months’ worth of media has been dominated by a singular man. My questions were few and broad, but no less important, I believe. At the very least, I wanted to know: so ... how’s it going over there? Do you have any ideas? What’s been working and what should be scrapped? How can America help or hurt you guys? The consensus, however, sounded a lot like, “We were about to ask you the same thing.”

     Greece is in a rut, and not only do they know it, they don’t think it can be fixed any time in the near future. A group labeled “diaNEOsis” surveyed the Greek population this past year and presented their findings over the weekend. They found that only 6% of the population trusts their politicians; the media didn’t even score at a statistically significant level, pulling in only a 2% trust rating. (Families and churches, for contrast, score at 85% and 72% respectively.) Because of this distrust and a decline in book/newspaper reading, many Greeks have turned to systems such as Facebook and Twitter to connect to the individuals they trust and are amicable with, thus leading to a rise in populist views and parties on the far edges of the political spectrum, including anarchism and the Golden Dawn party. If you are interested, I have included my original tweets on that process in reverse chronological order below the cut (aka the “Read More” label for those of you new to Tumblr -- hi Mom!).

     Many of the panels didn’t appear to be helping themselves in churning out new lifelines and plans for action, largely because the people populating the panels weren’t exactly the freshest faces to the scene either. every single panel was dominated by a white, male, middle-aged, upper-class, and presumably heterosexual presence. Some didn’t have any women at all, save the incredible ladies in the translation booths switching between English and Greek for eleven hours every day, and only one or two discussions had more than one female perspective. During the one on educational reform, the moderator even had the audacity to state that “by hearing the voice of one woman, we may hear all women” -- while I, a Jewish, LGBT+, American-born young woman sat with my jaw in my lap. Another, a round-table marketed as a group of youth leaders, had an record four women at a table seating around thirty assorted panelists ... none of whom were under the age of forty. I didn’t even bother sitting down then.

     As for America, I wanted to distance myself from its stranglehold on politics, and pursued European or Greek-specific discussions (although, inevitably, one member per discussion would make an aside to the POTUS, and then perhaps later, the Kremlin and/or Hitler). My friends who went to the talk about new American policy said they knew about as much as we Americans do -- because of the unpredictability of the POTUS and his staff and his relative inconsistency with matters outside of his standard stump speeches, the state of NATO, refugee aid, and other transcontinental issues are currently up in the air and difficult to comment on. I tried to shrug my shoulders and move on, sighing “It figures,” to my friends Tenzin and Felipe, but still found myself reading the NY Times and catching up on pundits’ commentary when I woke up in our hotel room every morning, dying to be informed and lighthearted in the face of uncertainty.

     Truthfully, I still feel like I don’t know as much as I should. That I knew not one politician’s name outside the givens -- the Putins, the Merkels, etc. -- alarmed me. That my understanding of Greek and Jewish diaspora was so limited when even I myself am a Jew in diaspora alarmed me. That, despite having more than a dozen friends and coworkers living in Great Britain currently, I couldn’t explain to you one reason for its occurance alarmed me. My increased consumption of US-based news sources in the last year has both enlightened me and isolated me. Though I am fully capable of discussing at length policy directly affecting me, those I love, and those who are my neighbors and colleagues domestically, I know so little of the state of my current home and the people who matter equally here, in this country where Syrian immigrants overwhelm the island of Lesbos and cannot escape to true asylum and unemployment ravages nearly a quarter of the official population. These are a people who are afraid, who are angry, who are hungry for change -- while the majority of them read less than five books a year and learn their news from their local open-air market and Facebook feeds. They hold university and post-graduate degrees but cannot hold down a job because of a host underdeveloped markets such as modernity-based tourism and a select few, such as medicine, are overwhelmed with applicants.  The Greek community is just as frustrated and confused as the rest of us -- but does that mean that we must remain willfully ignorant?

     A friend of mine asked this past week what she should do for Lent this year. After some consideration, I suggested that she add diverse viewpoints to her news diet. International news from places she’s visited or has always wanted to see, non-white curated news, non-secular and non-Christian news, news from political parties that are not her own. I suggest that we all do the same, whether or not you are participating in Lent, for at least a little while -- If not to simply understand others, then perhaps to be a secret agent. Pretend to be another person, a human in a world foreign to you. Explore. Learn.

[malteseboy]

translated from @funwithlanguages‘ post

Maltese verbs do not have an infinitive form, verbs are shown in the past 3rd person singular masculine.

to be

the present form of “to be” in Maltese works with the personal pronouns and they act as the verb also!

I am - Jien(a)

You are - Int(i)

He is - Hu(wa)

She is - Hi(ja)

We are - Aħna

You are - Intom

They are - Huma

there is - hemm have - kellu do - għamel go - mar want - ried can - seta’ need - kellu bżonn think - ħaseb know - af say - qal like -  għoġob speak - tkellem learn - tgħallem understand - fehem

Conjunctions

that (as in “I think that..” or “the woman that..”) - li and - u / w or - jew but - imma because - għax / għaliex though - għalkemm so (meaning “therefore”; e.g. “I wanted it, so I bought it”) - għalekk / allura if - jekk

Prepositions

note that some don’t have a fixed translation, and are mostly fused with the definite articles & personal pronouns as part of the grammar rules

of - ta’ to - għall- from - minn in - fil- / ġo at (someone’s house for example) - għand at (a time) - fil- with - ma’ about - dwar / fuq like (meaning “similar to”) - bħal / tipo for - għall- before - qabel after - wara during - matul

Question Words

who - min what - xiex (if you want to say for example “what boy?” add the suffix x’ to subject word: x’tifel?) where - fejn when - meta why - għala / għaliex / għalfejn how - kif how much - kemm which - liem / liema

Adverbs

a lot - ħafna a little - ftit well - mela badly - ħażin only - biss also - ukoll / wkoll very - ħafna too (as in “too tall”) - wisq too much - iżżejjed so (as in “so tall”) - tassew so much - ħafna more - iktar / aktar less - inqas as.. as (e.g. “as tall as”) - daqs most - l-iktar least - l-inqas better - aħjar best - l-aħjar / l-aqwa worse - agħar worst - l-agħar now - issa then - imbagħad here - hawn there - hemm maybe - forsi always - dejjem usually - normalment often - spiss sometimes - kultant / xi drabi never - qatt today - illum yesterday - ilbieraħ tomorrow - għada soon - daqt almost - kważi already - diġà even - anke enough - biżżejjed

Adjectives

those with link change depending on gender and amount

this - dan that - dak good - tajjeb bad - ħażin all - kollha some - xi no - ebda any - xi many - ħafna few - ftit most - aktar other - ieħor same - l-istess different - differenti one - wieħed two - tnejn / żewġ a few - ftit first - l-ewwel next - li jmiss last (e.g “last Friday”) - l-aħħar last (meaning “final”) - l-aħħar easy - ħafif hard - iebes hard (difficult) - diffiċli early - kmieni late - tard important - importanti interesting - interessanti boring - mhux interessanti beauiful - sabiħ ugly - ikrah big - kbir small - żgħir happy - kuntent sad - mdejjaq busy - għandu x’jagħmel (lit: he has stuff to do) ready - lest favorite - favorit new - ġdid old - qadim right (meaning “correct”) - korrett wrong - ħażin true - veru

Nouns

everything - kollox something - xi ħaġa nothing - xejn everyone - kulħadd someone - xi ħadd no one - ħadd Maltese - Malti English - Ingliż thing - ħaġa person - persuna place - post time (as in “long time”) - żmien time (as in “I did it 3 times”) - darba friend - ħabib (m) ħabiba (f) woman - mara man - raġel money - flus country - pajjiż Malta - Malta city - belt language - lingwa word - kelma food - ikel house - dar store - ħanut office - uffiċċju company - kumpanija manager - maniġer coworker - kollega job - xogħol work - xogħol problem - problema question - mistoqsija idea - idea life - ħajja world - dinja day - ġurnata year - sena week - ġimgħa month - xahar hour - siegħa mother, father, parent - omm, missier, ġenitur daughter, son, child - bint, iben, tifel (m) tifla (f) wife, husband - mara, raġel girlfriend, boyfriend - għarusa, għarus

More Verbs

work - ħadem see - ra use - uża believe - emmen seem - deher come - ġie love - ħabb leave - telaq return - irritorna give - ta take - ħa bring - ġab look for - fittex find - sab receive - rċieva buy - xtara try - pprova start - beda stop - waqaf finish - lesta continue - kompla wake up - qam eat - kiel drink - xorob happen - ġara feel - ħass create - ħalaq meet - ltaqa’ ask - saqsa reply - wieġeb read - qara write - kiteb listen - sema’ remember - ftakar forget - nesa choose - għażel decide - iddeċieda be born - twieled die - miet kill - qatel live - għex stay - baqa’ change - biddel help - għen send - bagħat walk - mexa dress (put clothes on) - libes desire - xtaq dream - ħolom ride - rikeb smile - tbissem win - rebaħ lose - tilef dance - żifen sing - kanta open - fetaħ close - għalaq gather - ġabar

Phrases

hello - ħello bye - ċaw thank you - grazzi you’re welcome - ta’ xejn / m’hemmx imniex excuse me - skużani sorry - jiddispjaċini It’s fine (response to an apology) - tinkwetax / mhux problema please - jekk jogħġbok yes - iva no - le okay - owkej my name is - jien jisimni what’s your name? - x’jismek? nice to meet you - għandi pjaċir how are you? - kif int? I’m doing well, how about you? - jien tajjeb/tajba, u int? sorry?/What? (if you didn’t hear something) - xiex? how do you say _? - kif tgħid_? what does _ mean? - xi tisser _ ? I don’t understand - m’inhiex nifhem could you repeat that? - tista‘ tirrepeti? could you speak more slowly, please? - tista‘ titkellem iktar bil-mod, jekk jogħġbok? really? - vera? I guess that - naħseb li It’s hot (talking about the weather) - xi sħana It’s cold (talking about the weather) - x’bard