#They want to look “tough on immigration”

[plethoraworldatlas]

Immigrants helped build this country, a fact no amount of racism or xenophobia can erase. Immigrants, including children, work in fields and factories, driving our economy. A group of immigrant men were working late last Tuesday night, filling potholes on Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge.

At 1:27 am, the Dali, a massive cargo vessel, 948-feet long and laden with roughly 4,700 shipping containers, lost power and rammed into the bridge, causing it to collapse. Two survived the disaster, six died. Only two of their bodies have been recovered from the cold, murky water of the Patapsco River.

Their tragic deaths occurred as increased immigrant arrivals are being exploited by former President Donald Trump and his right-wing extremist allies to foment division and to boost Trump’s presidential campaign. Just hours after the bridge collapse, FoxNews host Maria Bartiromo, interviewing Florida Republican Senator Rick Scott, attempted to link the maritime disaster to immigrants at the U.S.’ southern border:

“I want to understand the threats or the potential threats that this country is facing right now given the wide open border, the fact that we don’t know who is in the country. The FBI is looking… to ensure there was no foul play.”

“While we’re being talked about as like this invading horde that’s coming to destroy the country, what does this story actually show us? That immigrants are filling our potholes at night so that we can have a smooth drive to work in the morning.”

This is the same dog-whistle racism that Trump invoked in 2015, launching his first campaign: “When Mexico sends its people…They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists.” Trump continues his white supremacist ranting, saying at a recent Ohio campaign rally, “I don’t know if you call them people… These are animals and we have to stop it.”

Maximillian Alvarez, editor-in-chief of the Baltimore-based Real News Network, interviewed coworkers of the deceased. He said on the Democracy Now! news hour, “While we’re being talked about as like this invading horde that’s coming to destroy the country, what does this story actually show us? That immigrants are filling our potholes at night so that we can have a smooth drive to work in the morning.”

The six who died while working on the Key Bridge were hardworking men, from Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador.

Miguel Luna was a welder, a 49-year-old father and grandfather, a native of the Usulután Department in El Salvador, ravaged by the U.S.-backed Salvadoran military and paramilitaries in the 1980s. He played on the professional soccer team in the town of Berlin in his home region. His widow, Maria del Carmen, owns a food truck. Miguel was a beloved member of his community.

Miguel and another victim of the collapse, Maynor Suazo Sandoval, were members of CASA, an immigrant rights non-profit founded in 1986 to build solidarity with those impacted by the U.S.-backed violence in Central America. CASA wrote, “Maynor migrated from Honduras over 17 years ago, and he alongside his brother Carlos were active members in the activist committee of Owings Mills… Carlos said ‘He was always so full of joy, and brought so much humor to our family.’ He was a husband, and father of two.”

Details are still emerging of the other named victims, Alejandro Hernandez Fuentes, 35, of Mexico and Dorlian Ronial Castillo Cabrera, 26, of Guatemala. Their bodies were found inside a pickup truck, submerged in the river. Two more victims, also reportedly from Mexico and Guatemala, remain unnamed by their respective governments.

Details are still emerging of the other named victims, Alejandro Hernandez Fuentes, 35, of Mexico and Dorlian Ronial Castillo Cabrera, 26, of Guatemala. Their bodies were found inside a pickup truck, submerged in the river. Two more victims, also reportedly from Mexico and Guatemala, remain unnamed by their respective governments.

Millions of enslaved people also built this country, a point worth remembering as we mourn the immigrant laborers on the Key Bridge. The bridge was named after Francis Scott Key since, while watching the British navy bombard Fort McHenry in 1814, not far from where the bridge was built in the 1970s, Key wrote the poem that would become the national anthem. His poem has four stanzas, the first made famous as “The Star Spangled Banner.” Key was a slave owner, and denounced those who fled enslavement in 1814 to fight against the United States, for the British, who promised them freedom in return.

“No refuge could save the hireling and slave, From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,” Key wrote in his poem, words left out of the national anthem, but which nevertheless noticeably rhyme with “Land of the free and home of the brave.” This should be considered by those tasked with naming the replacement bridge.

The lives of Miguel and the five other workers have been cut short, but the hatred of immigrants, sadly, is alive, well and growing this election year. Pledges from President Joe Biden to quickly open Baltimore’s port to commerce parallel campaign rhetoric on both sides to “shut down” the southern border to people seeking asylum.

“Immigrants like Miguel are building bridges to connect communities, not building walls to divide them,” CASA wrote, eulogizing Miguel Luna. Let those words inspire an embrace of immigrant communities, an anthem we can all rally around.

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

[bookishdreamer28]

Giving Gojo the silent treatment

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It all started because of a fight you had the previous day. He's been working so hard lately, that the only thing you wanted was to make his day, somehow better by making dinner, having some good time for yourselves, drink wine and many more.

___________________________________________

It was 9 p.m and you had already set the table, with Satoru's and yours fave dinner. You were all dolled up and waiting for your fave boy's arrival.

When you heard the lock on the door, you instantly stood up from the couch and when to greet him. You could already see his small frown on his face and you wanted nothing more but to make it go away right away.

"Satoru my love, welcome ba-"

"Yeah yeah nice to see you too." He stepped back from your hug and walked away. Just walked away.

You knew how hard it was to be a sorcerer, but it wasn't necessary for him to act his way. You tried to brush it off, but the sting was still there. It hurts that he avoided hugging you.

You followed him to your room and saw him getting in the bathroom, ready to take a shower. You sighed and decided to sit on the bed and wait for him.

Once he got out, he didn't say anything to you and went straight to your closet.

He could feel your eyes on him but he still didn't say a thing.

"Uhm, I have dinner ready love. I made our fave! Since I know how much you liked it last time, I thought about making it again and after dinner I have planned an amazing night for ourselves, since I know you've been working s-"

"I don't feel like eating right now. I thing I'm going to bed early after I drink some tea." He said in a monotone voice.

"Really? Oh...but baby I just wanted to make you feel better. I know things are not ok out there but in here I want you feel safe and good-"

"CAN'T YOU JUST STOP TALKING ALREADY? I told you. I'm not in the mood for ANYHTING but sleep." He turned to you looking pissed. You absolutely understood him but the way he spoke to you is definitely Not ok.

"Well you don't need to be such a jerk you know. I just wanted to take care of you and this is how you talk to me?"

"Whem you're being pushy, what do you expect me to do? I had the toughest week ever, I need sleep and I need you to leave me alone." He said raising his voice a bit.

You tried so hard not let tears fall down. It broke your heart knowing that you were basically a burden to him now.

You felt your hands trembling and took a deep breath. Once you closed your eyes, you felt them. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. But you didn't really care.

Satoru didn't notice your tears since he truned away from you, to make tea.

After you calmed a little, you changed to your pajamas and went to collect the food from the table.

You saw satoru watching tv while drinking his tea, and you felt anger rising up again. The fact that he was so chill with all this made you so mad. You had many tough weeks too. You went through so much bullshit too. And you had bad days too. But you never thought, not even once, take it out on Satoru.

You cleaned the table and put the food in the fridge for tomorrow. You felt so exhausted. You went in yours and Satoru's bed, to take a blanket and a pillow, since you pretty sure he doesn't want to sleep with you.

Satoru was washing his mug and he didn't saw you when you went to take your place on the couch. With not more words exchanged, Satoru left the kitchen and went straight to your bedroom.

And without noticing, you started sobbing.

....

The next morning, Satoru woke up and when he saw you weren't next to him, he panicked. He got up alarmed and went in the living room.

"Y/N!? Sweetheart where are y-" when his eyes fell on your curled up figure, he released a breath he felt he was holding for too long. He thought about yesterday and immigrated felt like he wanted the ground to open a wide hole, and swallow him in.

He approached silently and crouched down next to you. He raised his hand and took a small strand of your hair and placed it behind you ear. He kissed yoyr forehead and stayed there for a while. He felt your body stirr and lookedat you carefully. You slowly opened your eyes and when you saw Satoru hovering above you, you frowned.

"Y/N baby, why did you sleep here? Didn't you get cold? Are you feeling cold now? Cause I'm going to make you tea and some breakfast for you to eat baby." He whispered.

You sat a little, rubbing your eyes. And then stood up and left, leaving Satoru there. He watched you walking away till you disappeared in the bathroom. He rubbed hos forehead thinking how much he messed up and cursed himself.

.....

The next morning, Satoru was in the kitchen making breakfast. He was humming your fave song, while making eggs and puring some juice on your glass. The smell woke you up and when you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. You wanted to smile at the image, but you couldn't forget what happened yesterday. You opened the fridge and grabbed one bottle of water and went back to the couch, grabbing your book with you. He felt his hwart breaking because the onky thing he wanted was to feel your warm body pressed against his. He wanted your kisses. He wanted you, moee than anything else. He looked at you and turned his back to you again, not wanting you to see his tears.

....

"Hey baby, how about we watch this series you talked to me about last week? You said season 2 is out, so I thought about watching it together. I brought snacks, sodas, i have your fave blanket aaand hugs!" He said cheerfully. But when he saw you not paying him any attention, his smiled dropped. You were laughing at a video you were watching. Oh how much he missed this sound. And how much he wished was the one making you laugh like this.

.....

That night, you returned home from a coffee with Shoko and decided to take a shower. After that, you were ready to to watch your fave series on the couch and then go to sleep. Satoru saw you there, and he started walking to you. When you heard his footsteps, you rolled your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He sat on the floor next to the couch and stared at you with those blue eyes.

"Baby, I-" he felt like his throat was close. He couldn't speak. His voice was hoarse from crying.

You turned your head away, because you couldn't take it seeing him that way. But the fact that he hurted you with his choice of words, was something that made you very upset.

"I'm so so so freaking sorry my love. I messed up so badly and I know saying sorry won't change the fact that I hurt you. But I want you to know that you mean the whole world to me." He voice was shaking his fingers reached to touch you. He needed to feel you so badly.

You looked at him and listened carefully to what he had to say.

Once he saw your eyes beautiful eyes looking at him, he felt so relieved. He missed you so much.

"Please baby, please forgive me. I know I'm in no place to even ask that after the way I spoke to you, but I can't take this anymore. Being this close to uu and not having you pains me. It pains me so damn much." He felt his eyes sting with tears.

You cold expression turned to a sad one, and you felt like hugging him so tight, but you were still unsure of what to do now.

Satoru's head dropped to the floor and he rubbed his eyes trying to not let anymore tears roll down.

"Oh Toru." You whispered. At the sound, Saotru looked at you, woth widen eyes.

"Baby, I- it pained me so much seeing you so upset and cold. Remember when we promised that we will be each other's anchors, and that we'll talk about anything that is bothering us? Well, you didn't do it. You just let your anger speak for you. And it was messed up."

You rested your right hand, on his softly.

"But I love you too. And this will never change. But please, mext time just talk to me ok? Of course there will be days that something will upset us and ruin our moods, but at the end day, all that matters is that we're each other's home." You rubbed his cheek softly, wiping his tears away.

"Can I please hug you?" He asked with a low voice.

"Of course baby." You moved first and he caught you in his arms fast. He felt alive again. And so did you. That was all you needed.

"Now, how about we watch my series and eat something to cheer us up hm?" You asked smiling, and leaned to leave a soft kiss on his lips. When you tried to pull away, he grabbed your face and kissed you more. And harder.

Well now you know that you won't be watching anything.

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Here's a new Gojo post caused missed writing something with him!!

Thank you for reading ♡♡

all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

[macabrecabra]

Now can't have the Silph Bros having a gang without the prominent members of it! Introducing the Nightshade Mafia members under the direct command of Ghast, formerly Hauts' underlings.

Exception is Hund. Hund is only ever with Gen 100% because he's the 100% competent good boy.

Read more for more info and some design notes on each!

Hund VonDoom (Hounddoom)

The ever loyal butler, bodyguard, and all around the one person Gen tells everything to, Hund is often regarded as a member of the family for how he is always with Gen. He is a silent sort, never speaks unless spoken to and follows orders faithfully without question. Probably the only person Gen trusts without a second thought.

The question most have is if Gen and Hund are actually a couple or not which is hard to say as Gen says nothing about it and Hund is a quiet judgmental look to all. However, it can't be understated that no one probably knows Gen best than Hund.

Design Notes: I just imagined this bodyguard of Gen who hides the lower half of their face in their collar, giving them a kind of stern and mysterious look as a minion. Hounddoom because they are good boys and Hund would def have that guard dog vibe!

Kofco & Whezle Smogbur (Wheezing)

With the strange evolution of pokemon without humans about, the Wheezing evolution has taken a turn! Usually the two parts of Wheezing are surgically removed, leaving the two as close brothers. Such an ascension is seen highly in the Koffing community, thus Kofco and Whezle command some level of respect among their fellows.

The two have a rough and tough street-wise attitude and like to think they are the big pokemon on the block, more than willing to get into a scrap and show people who get in the way of the mafia who's boss.... until things get sticky, then they are both looking for the door in a blast of gas attack.

Design Notes: When I started to design their outfits, I kept thinking of Jasper and Horace from 101 Dalmations and the style of clothing they wore and it just really stuck in my head! The tiny hats on their heads was just the icing on the cake <3

Arbel Jessic (Arbok)

Arbel is a classy snake who is in the criminal business to satisfy her lavish spending habits and get access to all the best fashion at a discount. She is not above getting her hands dirty or taking charge of her dumb co-workers is need be. Can be the voice of reason at times in the group, tampering down the chaotic leanings that can happen. She is looking for love and loves to date in her free time, looking for the one.

She can be a bit vain though and when someone makes a comment about her looks she doesn't like, she will be quick to anger and to lash out. She gets along best with Victor in the group, mostly because Victor doesn't know what she is saying half the time... Design Notes: I was channeling Jessie from Team Rocket when making Arbel, just wanting a strong lady in the gang and just really brought the design together in the end <3 the patterns she has is different than official Arbok art as I feel each Arbok has its own special markings!

Victor Belkavitch (Victreebel)

An immigrant from another region, Victor came to Kanto for a new start in life and to take care of his very large extended family of cousins, nephews, grandparents, aunts, and uncles that followed after him. He fell in with the Nightshade Mafia for his impressive work in a bar shootout and has been with them ever since as the pay is good and he does not have to talk much. He is still learning the local language of Kanto and struggles at times with things.

He is the largest one in the gang and can brute strength a lot of things. Loyal to his co-workers whom he treats as family, he is a dependable sort and not above sticking a fight out to keep others safe. Also he is of a pokemon kind that is not above swallowing things whole, including other pokemon when ordered.

Design Notes: As soon as he was named Victor, his design of leather jacket and dark jeans was set in stone as a nod to the dress of gangs/mafias that are found in Eastern Europe. A hat didn't really fit as he had that leaf to be his hat. I just like Victreebels....

Wolbert Buffet (Wobbuffet)

They have been the mafia since it was form as a best friend of Hauts. They actually have the other half of Hauts' hat so between them is the whole hat which means a lot to both of them. Wolbert can come across as rather energetic and a bit absentminded about things, more emotional than most, but more than willing to take the brunt of an attack without hesitation. They took news of Hauts' death hard but remained in the gang to keep an eye on Ghast and make sure he doesn't get into trouble.

They really want to help Ghast in leading the mafia, but they themselves aren't really good at leadership things as motivating people is hard. They just yell loudly and act like they have an idea of what they are doing most of the time. They really shine when it comes to being in a fight or having to get through doors with their sticky fingers.

Design Notes: Wolbert was, by far, the hardest one to design of the gang. Wobbuffet has a simple design that I had to translate into a more anthropomorphic style. Also it felt better with their body type that they probably favor dresses or skirts, so they got a blend of a suit and skirt! Also no shoes, but nice socks!

Gilliad Gligland (Gligar)

Gilliad is the new face on the block and the only one of the mafia who never knew Hauts. Ghast has adopted them as their best friend as a result, teaching them how to be a real ganster! Gilliad is a tad gullible as a result, believing everything they are told. still green about the gills, they get really scared by being in situations and stumble a lot. He's still learning!

Design Note: Given that Gligar has the webbing for gliding, it felt important that their outfit gave them access to their ability naturally and that clothing was designed around them. It is something I'm keeping in mind with designs to take in the pokemon's anatomy when humanizing them! Also having a goofy friend for Ghast was key, so they share similar fashion and being goofy little boys!

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

[juxtaposed-nerd]

aapi heritage month headcanons pt. 3 !!!

just in time for s3 of dndads, let’s get into it! this one will probs be a lot but so much has happened in the past year 😭

- taylor LOVES chinese new year, he looks forward to it every year as the favorite (only) child and he eats all the dumplings he could ever eat and gets tons of red envelopes

- cassandra and morgan become best friends/mother-daughter relationship vibes post-doodler, like they are the most badass and cool women in the world and i do think taylor grows to love morgan so much and even though his relationships with nick/glenn are strained, at least he has the best mom and grandma

- as a voice actor for anime/cartoons i think cassandra really did fall in love w the art of anime and i’d love for her to guest at a con (make her the j michael tatum of her world PLEASE) and taylor gets a free ticket to weeb out as much as he wants <3

- in my heart glenn is trying his best, like he really wants that closeness (haha) and i think now post-doodler it's like literally what started as a father/son duo of him and nick now is genuinely a huge (kinda fucked up) family that is trying to mend itself and i do think it starts with chinese takeout !!!

- sidenote i think the close/foster/swifts etc are a great example of how freddie has subverted asian stereotypes fr and also how a family stuck in an absent/neglectful cycle has the ability to come together again

- the mending includes hermie too, hermie definitely deserves something more in his life and the chance get to be a kid w a home in the form of a big family w his bio dads (his normal parents are invited too) (and i also love the idea of normal being like 'grandpa henry! this is the guy!' and hermie being an honorary oak would be so cute 😭)

- hermie went and saw joy ride (2023) bc it was marketed as a comedy and came out bawling his eyes out from that one scene y’all adoptees know what im talking about

- tbh thinking about taylor's closeness w his mom and francis's w kimon wan literally asian moms are holding this show together

- the farnsworth’s are thai and german and they came to peachyville at a young age to give their newborn son a better life very starting nuclear family vibes, ed definitely learned thai for her, and now their son is a bowling champ!

- francis farnsworth and taylor swift are lowkey the spectrum of asian upbringing where it's like midwest asians vs socal asians 😳🤭 they live in different worlds

- kimon wan is an immigrant mom just trying to raise her family and her damn son wont stop being a loser 🤦‍♀️ literally milf w a shotgun (ed is a lucky man FR) (sorry anthony burch)

- when francis is having a really tough day then kimon wan will leave a plate of cut up fruit at his door so he knows he's still supported

- luo's golden wok is the first and only chinese restaurant in peachyville and they have to have the best pepper steak ever im calling it now

- tony collette would love and hate both jodie and glenn i think for different reasons but instead of calling them formosans he’d call them orientals 💀

- also tony collette is 0.0001% asian (chinese) and tyrus luo either DEFINITELY knows which is why he puts up w all the bullshit tony does or tony is determined to make sure that tyrus NEVER finds out ever

- they have a 'throwback' silent movie night at the drive-in and they show a meryl streep film and literally everyone falls in love w him 🥰

- billion millions was a crazy rich asian and he was an icon

- once again they mean the world to me! might end up posting more at some point who knows lol

-

checkout past headcanons: 2022! 2023!

[quotespile]

Slowly, even though I thought it would never happen, New York lost its charm for me. I remember arriving in the city for the first time, passing with my parents through the First World's Club bouncers at Immigration, getting into a massive cab that didn't have a moment to waste, and falling in love as soon as we shot onto the bridge and I saw Manhattan rise up through the looks of parental terror reflected in the window. I lost my virginity in New York, twice (the second one wanted to believe he was the first so badly). I had my mind blown open by the combination of a liberal arts education and a drug-popping international crowd. I became tough. I had fun. I learned so much... But now New York was starting to feel empty, a great party that had gone on too long and was showing no sign of ending soon. I had a headache, and I was tired. I'd danced enough. I wanted a quiet conversation with someone who knew what load-shedding was.

Mohsin Hamid, Moth Smoke

[mrs-nanami]

i'm such a portia featherington stan. like, truly, as a child of immigrant parents, portia's ruthless practicality and tough personality with her kids really reminds me of my own parents. my parents haven't been the softest or even the most supportive people, but a lot of that comes from a place of fear for them. fear of a lack of security, fear of the unknown. shit, when i got married, my parents damn near demanded to review my husband's tax returns because they wanted assurances about my future financial security. as their child, it was really upsetting to deal with, but as an adult, i can understand.

and i think that portia looks at her kids, and she's thinking about the long game: how is she going to ensure the family legacy with two morons and a shy, socially-awkward, beautifully plus-sized book worm? i think she sees philippa and prudence, and she sees the clearest, fastest path: get those two idiots married and knocked up as fast as possible, and maybe, maybe they can work on social mobility with the grandkids. with penelope? i think portia sees her and sees her baby. her adorable, overweight, dreamy, shy, baby who is very unlikely to attract a great lord or charm a handsome suitor. portia is looking at her, sizing her up against the competition, and from what she sees, penelope doesn't have the aesthetic or killer instinct to get what she wants. and for portia, i think she's okay with that. i think portia thinks "if I can get her sisters sorted out, we'll finally have the security we need, we can work on social mobility with the grandkids, and I can take care penelope for the rest of her life.

portia verbalizes that the idea that penelope will take care of her as portia ages is a comfort, but i think that's because portia knows better than to say, "it's alright, baby, Mommy's going to take care of you forever". she might be a tasteless and tactless woman, but I think that when portia says something mean, it's comes from a place of wanting penelope to be more practical, as opposed to just punching down for fun. i think she doesn't actually ever want to hurt penelope, i think she just sees penelope and sees penelope as her helpless baby who simply just doesn't know any better and who can't take care of herself (not unlike her sisters, who can't do anything for themselves, but only because they're dumb).

portia featherington for president.

[mintymelty]

YHS Rewrite/Redesign: Alec.

⚠️Warning! SPOILERS FOR ITSFUNNEH’S YHS AND YHS: A SERIALIZATION BY PROXY⚠️

OH. MY. GOD. this little rat has been sitting in my draft box for like a month. like i have his character down but his design needed a round 2. thankfully, i pulled through.

Meet alec. Alec is close to his mother and tolerates his sister depending on the day. He’s blunt, and somewhat calloused, but cares for the few friends he has.

He also works for a murderer.

YOU ALL KNOW WHO, in addition to a ridiculous amount of cash, has a bunch of dirt on Alec, that could not only ruin his life, but his loved ones, too. Alec is forced to work with the “Terror of Yamada High” (name pending) and… dispose of YAKW’s messes.

Putting aside his deal with the devil, Alec has had a tough life. His dad was a dirtbag, his mom’s working two jobs to support Alec and his sister’s education, the whole deal. Such an unstable upbringing has instilled only one value in him: loyalty.

As Kat and Alec bond over similar experiences as poor kids with immigrant parents, YAKW might influence Alec in ways previously unseen in Itsfunneh’s original Yandere High School…

…But we’ll get there when we get there! Thank you all for supporting YHSAS! And let me know if you have any critique of the rewrite! Have a nice day1!

[gravedigginbbydoll]

His Best Girl

Eddie Munson x Latina! OC

AN: Hi. So this lil blurb is very personal to me and my own experiences (and a few of those of loved ones) as the daughter of a latina immigrant. This is heavily based on Your Best American Girl by Mitski. Also I'm sorry for making Steve an ass at the beginning, I just think pre-upside down and Nancy, he was a bit misguided. And to all my immigrant daughters out there: please know that you are not out of place or just pieces and not a whole. You are a human with multiple facets and pieces and parts to make up something amazing. Anyways, like and reblog if you enjoy as per usual. Love y'all ❤️

CW: Xenophobia, stereotypes, internalized xenophobia and anti-latinidad, pressure of fitting in, strenuous relationship with mother, toxic motherly relationship at times, anxiety, bullying. Fear of not being accepted, etc. Mentions of food. Slightly suggestive thoughts.

I stuck out like a sore thumb in Hawkins. It didn't matter that we had lived there for longer than Billy Hargrove, we got more sneers than he ever did. Teased for lunches homemade by my mother, now rotting in a garbage can behind school. Teased for the poncho I wore in grade school, chubby cheeks wet with tears as I sobbed over the laughter. Teased for my mother’s pronunciation of words like Illinois, too many syllables crowded into her mouth for the english language. 

It didn’t matter how far I distanced myself. I stopped speaking my mother’s native tongue, pushing down the hurt I saw in her eyes that now her own daughter was pitted against her. I stayed silent at my father’s snide comments about her heritage and pretended to be busy when her family called. I tried to get involved in cheerleading and dance, trying to show that I too could be part of the American Dream. Yet still, like a birthmark unable to be scrubbed away, Hawkins remembered me as a stranger. 

It seemed like the effort finally paid off when Steve Harrington got interested in me. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn't Molly Ringwall. He flirted with me after basketball practice, messing with my scrunchy, stealing my pom poms. I felt my heart soar. I’d finally made it. I’d finally been made a resident in my own community. When he finally asked me out, I felt my chest burst with pride, my sense of belonging almost fulfilled. Yes, my home was tense and sad. But now I could exist outside our little bubble without fear of being ostracized. 

Then came the roadblocks. 

Steve liked my hair straight, down and perfected with hairspray. Liked me clean shaven and bare. Wanted me to do makeup like Carol, simple. Wanted me dressed in pinks and perfect baby blues, the style as All-American and feminine as possible. Wanted me to stop carrying around the small rosary and evil eye bracelet I’d hidden from the rest of the world. I obliged, sugary smiles and gut wrenching nerves, just wanting to stay enough, be enough. 

Then it went deeper. Steve wanted to hear me speak Spanish in private, words hushed and filthy, pushing limits I knew I’d be thinking of later in confession. But in public, he only wanted English, urged me to take French at school instead. He never asked to meet my mother, who had showered me in affection despite my cold shoulder. Who only spoke in proud words over me on the phone whether it be about my latest test, my excelling in dance classes, or just my part on the cheer team. And as we went further, he’d scrutinize little things, like the way I looked, the little superstitions I picked up from my mother, the small bits and pieces of her folded into me. 

It all bubbled over the night I met his family. He warned me that they were tough but his mother was sweet. I sat, makeup perfect, smile shining, and careful to seem like the picture perfect girl they’d approve of. I nibbled at the meal his mother prepared, my heart longing for the familiar comfort of my mamá’s cooking wafting in the kitchen, the laughter in the kitchen as she made milanesa or empanadas. Steve’s mother’s cooking felt cold, lifeless. The casserole was lightly salted, and the energy at the table stale and somehow tense all at once. 

“So, what’s your mother do? Stay at home?,” Steve’s father asked nonchalantly. 

I felt my stomach sink. Wealthy mothers in Hawkins didn’t work. They stayed home while their husbands hopped around their business meetings and towns nearby. My smile faltered, but I decided to be honest. After all, they’d know sooner or later. 

“No, sir. She works at an Italian restaurant downtown.” 

“Well, I suppose Italian isn’t all that different from speaking Spanish,” He offered, shrugging. 

My stomach sank to the floor, my heart squeezed. Something about his inflection, something about his writing off my mother speaking English, stirred something in me. 

Steve stayed silent, his eyes begging me to let it go. 

“My mamá speaks English, sir. As well as Spanish,” My voice shook softly, my hands clenched under the table. 

“Ah, okay. Wasn’t sure. Seems a lot of Hispanics nowadays can’t just try to learn the language when they come into our country, for god's sake. But I should have known. You’re such a…well-adjusted girl.” 

I felt the small thread holding together my façade crack. I breathed in, trying to stop myself from screaming. How could such wealthy and lucky people be so small minded? I gritted my teeth. 

“English is surprisingly a hard language. My mother still struggles with it even after living here longer than she did in her home country.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not struggling. Just don’t understand why they can’t come here and assimilate. I mean, when Steve told us he was dating an ethnic girl, I questioned-” 

Steve paled at the mention of this, turning to me and trying to explain himself through his eyes but staying silent. 

I held up a hand, trying to keep my composure, my words cold and my anger boiling. “We try. Plenty. We try to squeeze into your boxes and norms and bend to your will and it’s never good enough. I still get notes taped to my back that say ‘river crossing’ or slurs that aren’t even correct for my heritage. I still get called ‘gorilla arms’ despite waxing and shaving daily since 6th grade. I get spit on daily and if I even look at some of the people in this town, I worry one day that I’ll be dead in a ditch. And I’m one of the lucky ones. My father is American, and I am fairly pale. I was born two towns over, for christ’s sake. I am just as American as you. My mother and any latino who steps foot in this country deserves to be here as much as you, if not more.” 

I felt my hands shake and my cheeks wet as I wiped at them, the mascara I had been wearing smearing a streaky black as I stood, brushing my hands off on my dress, my heart feeling freed, my chest tempted to break open to allow me to let go more. 

“Now if you excuse me, I must go home.” 

I turned and walked out, leaving behind the big house full of dreams of all-star American athletes and nuclear households, tired mothers and fathers obsessed with infidelity. Part of my heart hoped Steve would run after me, apologize, kiss my cheeks and promise to love all the pieces and intricacies of me, promise to stand up next time. 

But he never did. 

Steve never called back, stopped speaking to me after practice, stopped trying to squeeze himself into my life. Maybe it was me embracing the soft curls of my hair and not shaving day in and out. Maybe it was me wearing what I wanted and quitting cheer to join the newspaper, and finding more people who accepted me for myself. 

I won’t deny that it stung how he found Nancy Wheeler, perfectly American girl without any question. Straight A’s, beautiful, sweet, well-off family. I was happy for him. But I couldn’t deny that my chest stung with the idea that no matter what I did, I’d never be her. 

My mother and I started mending our relationship, and while it always had that complicated knot of trauma and things she wouldn’t discuss, it was better than the frayed edges I’d left. She still pushed me hard, she still was stubborn and said things that would sting for a lifetime. I still cried alone when we fought, guilt over her giving up a life and home to make one mine, and yet I still got upset when she would refuse to budge and claim I'd ‘regret saying these things when (she) was dead and gone.’ 

But I felt less like a broken piece of glass trying to fit into a puzzle. 

I met Eddie while eating lunch outside, still sensitive to classmates upturned noses and sniggering laughs behind their hands. I was at the bleachers, enjoying the fresh air and the empanadas I had reheated secretly in the front office. My mom had made the monthly trek to the latin supermarket to get ingredients and stock up on comforts. I was relishing in the flaky dough and savory inside when a voice startled me. 

“What is that smell?”

I felt shame and embarrassment sink into my bones, knowing some of the kids at Hawkins hated the smell of the food I brought from home, claiming it was ‘too weird’. I turned to look at the voice, feeling my voice caught in my throat at the sight. 

Eddie Munson. 

I recognized the outgoing and loud metalhead anywhere. He was what I tried to distance myself from for so many years, trying to squeeze into Hawkins small sect of acceptable behavior and praised individuals. He always scared me, his clear and blatant middle finger to the idea of blending in, his behavior and interests always villainized in this town. But I also respected him immensely and was almost envious that he could do that, not consumed by thoughts of others mistreating him. 

And yet now here he was, about to join the flock of Hawkins xenophobes, it seemed.

He scrambled to sit down next to me, his lean legs climbing over the seats easily as he sat by me. He had a pack of cigarettes in hand along with what seemed to be Twinkie. He smiled down on me, his wide grin causing my cheeks to heat quickly. Eddie was more attractive than the town of Hawkins gave him credit for, his smile dazzling and his eyes a warm brown. He white Reeboks rested against the bleachers in front of us as he leaned back on his hands, smiling over at me. His bangs came over his eyes a little with the wind, causing him to squint. 

“I’ll trade you one of whatever that delicious thing is for my Twinkie. I forgot to pack a lunch,” he joked, dimples popping out. 

I felt my hands clam up as I fidgeted nervously. 

“I mean, sure, but are you sure you’ll like-” 

“Princess, trust me. I love food. And that little doughy pocket you are currently munching on smells heavenly…Please?” 

I nodded, feeling my stomach twist with nerves as I handed him the food, smiling at him sheepishly. He took it with eager hands, his own nimble fingers brushing mine and swiftly handing me the slightly squashed Twinkie. 

“Sorry, it got a little beat up.” 

I shook my head, shrugging. I had pocketed the twinkie, instead focused on his face while he took an eager bite into the dough, his moan coming soon after, his eyes rolling back into his head, his head thrown back. 

I felt my skin heat up to blazing temperatures, my thighs squirming. 

Who knew Eddie Munson’s moans sounded so… sinful?

He turned to me after chewing and swallowing, his eyes sparkling with interest as he sat up and faced me, scooting closer to me. 

“You’ve got to tell me what that was. That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I need like fifty. Seriously. I’ll give you a free stash if you just bring me one like everyday.”

I laughed, my cheeks still heated and my heart squeezed at the excitement. 

He liked it. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t spit it out. 

“It’s an empanada. My mom makes them.” 

“Em-pan-ahd-a,” He sounded out, stumbling over his words a bit and then grinning at me, his dimples popping up. 

“Seriously though, I’ll pay you to get more of these.” 

Eddie and I formed a bond tighter than anyone I’d ever known. After that meeting, we’d exchanged names and he offered to bring me one sweet each day in exchange for half of my mother’s cooking. 

I was terrified at first, scared he’d turn away a dish or gag at the things she made. But as it turned out, that fear was short-lived. 

Eddie Munson scarfed down empanadas, milanesa, cassava, rice, and soup. He acted as if each meal was worthy of a restaurant, praising my mother's cooking over and over again. I watched with swelling pride as he asked about the dishes and ingredients, how to cook them, and what my favorites were. He took extra care to express his love for the dishes I had assisted with the night before, his sweet words imprinted on my heart like ink. 

We grew from that to more and more hanging out, me being an honorary member of Hellfire, and Corroded Coffin’s number 1 fan. I learned Eddie never got to learn how to ride a bike but could fix cars up pretty well due to working at an auto shop. I learned how Eddie sometimes would visit his dad at the jail but always came out of it bitter. I knew Eddie liked his eggs over medium, not scrambled (‘it looks like brains’), and how he had a tiny chip in his tooth from eating shit at a little league game when he was about 11 (‘I was never athletic, okay?’). And with each small piece of Eddie I got to know more and more, I felt a stronger tug at my heart. A pull to know all the parts of him, to familiarize myself with the calluses on his fingers and the dip in his collarbone. I wanted to consume all the pieces of him and feel our bones lock together. 

One night, I had invited him over to help my mamá and I cook dinner, her over the top doting and affection causing us both to have heated cheeks, his a bright red. She was showing him how to make milanesa, her fingers already coated in eggy breadcrumbs. He listened intently, still joking around and making her laugh. She doted on him despite my fear, affectionately reprimanding him for not wearing socks on the cold floor and having his hair a mess. We laughed and sang along to old traditional love songs wafting in from the record spinning in the living room, Eddie taking my hand and swaying with me in the kitchen. My mother looked over at me with warm eyes, her smile soft and sad. 

I never felt freer than that moment, all the small pieces that made me me visible to Eddie. He looked at me with warm and caring eyes, his smile soft but still bringing out his dimples. He liked me. He liked who I was. He didn’t mind that my mother had an accent or that she was overbearing sometimes, or that she burned palo santo to repel bad spirits and insects alike. He didn’t let Jason stick xenophobic notes to my back without a fight, and never made me feel like I needed to push down my heritage. 

After dinner, I helped my mother wash the dishes while she urged Eddie to talk with my Dad and tour our home. I stayed in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones in Spanish with her, feeling frustration bubble up at her listing of all of Eddie’s flaws. 

He’s too rebellious. 

Ya se, mamá. Pero-

He has too many tattoos.

Sí, pero-

His hair is too long. 

Mamá-

I had just about accepted defeat when she stayed silent for a beat before turning over to me.

“But does he make you happy, mijita? 

I felt my heart skip a bit and a glimmer of hope shine through as I nodded my head and her expression softened. She turned back to her plate that she was scrubbing, looking into the suds rather than me. 

“Good.” 

We sat out on my porch hours after that dinner, our pinkies brushing as we sipped on water, Eddie smoking a cigarette but careful to not let the smoke come my direction. We had slipped into a comfortable silence that was familiar to us. Eddie dropped the cigarette, stomping out the smoke before turning to me and smiling. 

“This was nice. I want more of this. More of us. What do you say, princesa? Be my girl?”

I felt my heart swell as my cheeks burned from my grin, my eyes watering over as I nodded enthusiastically. He pulled my hand closer to him with our connecting pinkies, interlacing the fingers and smiling as I answered. 

“Yes. Always.”

I was on a date with Eddie when I finally saw Steve again. I mean, I had seen him in the hallways in passing, his arm usually wrapped around Nancy. However, I’d heard a rumor that the two had broken up. Steve wasn’t as popular as before and seemed to stop hanging around his group of usual assholes that included Carol and Tommy. But I had never expected to see him at the local mall working at Scoops Ahoy, serving me and Eddie. 

Eddie had a protective arm wrapped around me, his expression guarded as he ordered some ice cream for the both of us. Eddie actively hated the mall, but this was the only place in town that really served ice cream and the two of us combined had a dangerous sweet tooth. He also was aware of me and Steve’s past, and our sour ending. He had soothed and comforted me when I felt afraid he would react the same way to my home and family. 

While Steve rang us up, his expression was pained, which would have been laughable in his uniform if I wasn’t still stung by his behavior. He looked up at me, his eyes sincere as he sighed, his expression guilty. 

“Look…I’m sorry I was such an ass while we were dating. I shouldn’t have let anyone talk to you like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I’m really sorry.” 

Eddie’s arm wrapped tighter around me, ready to defend me if needed, his gaze on my face. 

But strangely, I felt a sense of closure. A sense of forgiveness. I didn’t need approval from Steve or Hawkins or even Eddie. I could be all the little pieces of myself and my mother, all the parts of Midwest America and Latin America by myself. I deserved to be whole. 

“Thank you. I deserve to be myself and feel proud of where I come from. I appreciate that you know that now.” 

Eddie smiled softly down at me, kissing my forehead as his expression was filled with pride. He paid and tugged me away from the counter, his smile soft as he handed me my ice cream and held my hand with his free one, the other clutching his own. 

“Sweet treat for my favorite girl.” 

I smiled down at the cone, the phrase not lost on me.  Maybe I wasn’t the All-American Girl. But I was Eddie’s girl. And that was more than enough.

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. XIII

THAT'S A WRAP!

We did it! Last night, the final episode of Dr. House flickered across the screen, and I must say, this rewatch was extremely enjoyable for me, partly because of writing about it. But from start to finish, there wasn't a single part that felt like a struggle, because the series is consistently good.

Cuddy is gone, Foreman is the new head of the hospital, and House is in jail. If that's not a spectacular start to a season, then I don't know what is.

But before that happens—since we still had a few episodes left from the seventh season—we see House completely out of control. First, injecting himself with experimental substances and then surgically removing the resulting tumors from his leg. After that, he tries, in his own way, to make things right with Cuddy, but it's increasingly failing. Even though I can understand some of his accusations toward her to a certain extent, what happens toward the end of the season is anything but justified.

In the eighth season, we see a very bizarre side of House, but one action hints at why he keeps resorting to such strange means. When he makes the immigration office document disappear, forcing Dominika to stay with him, he reveals something that has been subtly apparent all along—that he's incredibly lonely. Not everything can be attributed to this theme, but it does explain a lot! Especially what will happen with Wilson becomes increasingly clear.

Otherwise, Season 8 is another wild rollercoaster ride, not just in terms of the cases but also in terms of character development. During his time in prison, House meets the young doctor, Dr. Jessica Adams, whom he immediately adds to the team when he returns to Princeton-Plainsboro. There's also the suspended doctor, Dr. Chi Park, and after some initial difficulties, Taub and Chase make it back onto the team. From then on, everyone on the team faces some really tough challenges, and the worst one, towards the end of the season, comes to House himself. His best friend, what irony, is diagnosed with cancer. House has to confront many inner demons from then on and realizes that soon there will be no one left who truly understands his character and is also somewhat friendly towards him.

House tries everything to prevent Wilson's death because he doesn't want to lose this important person and also knows that his future would be uncertain without this support. But he's fighting windmills because Wilson has seen and experienced too much already to want to undergo treatment. He wants to enjoy the remaining time he has left.

I particularly liked Wilson's development because at the beginning, he's quite a thin, rather boring oncologist, and in the end, he's the tough, three-day-beard biker with a leather jacket. Especially when he's on the bike and puts on the glasses, he looks incredibly good, even though tragically plagued by cancer, just good!

What I find unfortunate, but can understand from an actress's perspective, is that we didn't see Lisa Cuddy (Lisa Edelstein) again. In the end, when House gets another beating in the burning house, he hallucinates quite a few people, and even Kutner and Stacy are there. On the other hand, Cuddy might have simply taken up too much space, especially after what happened in the last episode of the seventh season. Maybe it's for the best that she didn't show up again because otherwise, it might have felt like the focus was only on their relationship. Instead, it felt more like it was about each person and House, as well as the processing of different periods in his life or his drug addiction.

Whether there's such a thing as a perfect ending for a series, I don't know, but the ending of House comes pretty close. Of course, you're initially a bit disappointed because even though eight seasons are long and an ending can be a good thing, you don't want to let go just like that, and the inner series junkie demands more. But objectively speaking, this ending is really good because we've seen so many facets of House that it might feel forced now if there were more. We see how Adams and Park are firmly established in a team, Chase has finally found his place (I think his development is very good and how much more stable he is compared to the early seasons), and Taub embraces his role as a father. Cameron is also happy, which makes us all happy. And we also get another wonderful look at a still relatively healthy Thirteen, wonderful. Plus, there's that little nod with Foreman finding House's ID under a side table. Judging by his expression, you might think he knows House is still alive but is content that he has found his peace.

As often, I only picked out the really prominent parts from the season! The eighth season is full of interesting cases, exciting interactions with patients and the team, and a lot of new things, compared to the old seasons.

The thing between Park and Chase.

Chase being attacked and seriously injured by a patient (which is used to give him the necessary distance and make his team takeover make more sense)

Taub, who has a pretty established presence but still hasn't quite found his place in life

Foreman, who doesn't know whether he should be like House, like Cuddy, or just like Foreman as the head

What happens next? I honestly don't know yet. Yesterday, I looked around a bit and then decided on Bullet Train (2022). I still have to continue with Halo, but maybe I'll wait until the season is finished and then binge-watch everything in one evening, we'll see. But one thing I know is that I feel like watching something in the crime genre again!

[sergeifyodorov]

plz share the willy xenophobia discussion at your leisure i would love to read about it

Right. So.

Willy was drafted in 2014, a top-ten pick with legacy pedigree, and unlike the other two in Toronto's Big Three, took a little longer to develop -- Marner spent his D+1 in the OHL before coming up, Matthews made the team right away, but Willy spent time in the SHL and about a year and a half in the Marlies before joining at the end of the 15-16 season, after Marner was drafted but before Matthews was. Needless to say, expectations of him weren't quite as high, but he was firmly expected to be part of the Big Rebuild, too.

He's also Swedish. The first Europeans in the NHL were Swedish, and to this day the highest proportion of non-North Americans is Swedish. However, in order to understand the Swedes, we have to talk about the Russians.

The 1972 Summit Series is probably the most important single event in the history of hockey -- eight games, the first true best-on-best in the world, since the NHL and the Olympics have always had a fraught relationship and they weren't allowed to attend. If we really wanted to talk about the Summit Series, we could be here for years, but, the point: on this particular world stage, it was finally understood that Europeans -- Russians, but everyone else, too -- played a different style of hockey, one that emphasized a side-to-side possession-based game instead of the Canadian dump-and-chase style. The Euro style involves far less checking. And less fighting.

North American (largely Canadian, but nonetheless) hockey has always had a culture of hypermasculinity around it, and this relative lack of violence, as well as pre-existing stereotypes of the time, gave the impression that Europeans were "soft."

Back to Willy. Go back to look at draft-era Willy, before he learns how to grow facial hair -- not Mitch's baby face, but not Auston's full-grown jawline. A layer of puppy fat that disguises all but the most defined of his muscles. Silky blond hair and a dopey smile. He dresses expensively, breaks into fits of giggles in interviews, doesn't seem to take anything as seriously as he should. Because this is Toronto, and we feel as if we are about to enter a new golden age, we expect the most out of our prospects -- solemnity, hard work, not a flaxen-haired nepotist idiot. Especially not a soft flaxen-haired nepotist idiot.

Willy Nylander, raised and trained on a different continent, doesn't hit much, preferring to carry his puck in than dump it. He's speedy, patient with a shot, would rather make a dangerous chance than one through three lanes of traffic. He doesn't fight, doesn't get mad, scores less when the team's really going, and he held out to the last possible moment in his RFA negotiations. Every single one of these drives people mad -- people here trailing all after Don Cherry.

If you're not familiar with Don Cherry, imagine the worst Leafs uncle you could possibly realize, give him opinions of similar attitude on the rest of the NHL, and then understand that he had a national platform for decades. Cherry, fervent nationalist that he is, touted the "tough" Canadian forechecking style, adored players who would walk off injuries -- never mind their lives afterwards -- and once expressed his disdain for visors (you know, the thing that... protects your eyes... and a lot of your face...) by saying that only the Europeans and Francophones liked them. (He also got kicked off of Hockey Night in Canada for anti-immigrant statements. Yee haw.)

Cherry hated Nylander the entire time, explicitly citing his Swedishness (and implying a lack of toughness, or winning quality, which he equated) as a reason that the Leafs would never win with him. Here's an article from right around draft day with Cherry's opinion -- he says the Leafs, should they choose to contend, should forgo Europeans and instead take Canadians. He also cites Ritchie's high penalty-minute count as a valuable item. (I don't know about you, but generally I think regularly putting your team on the penalty kill is a detriment, not a strength).

Furthermore, there's a poll at the end of this article asking the reader if they think Cherry was right. Most people think he was. He was hugely popular not only because he was a charismatic figure (I keep talking about him as if he's dead; he's not, just no longer working) but because his ideas were popular. People believed, and still very much do, that Swedishness is softness and that softness is bad. And as -- as a Leaf -- arguably one of the most visible Swedes in the NHL, one of those tasked with shouldering the weight of the most known franchise, Willy bore a lot of it.

I think part of the reason I didn't mention it in the original post was because unlike Mitch, Willy doesn't seem to let it get to him a lot -- he's a blissfully oblivious Barbie-doll idiot -- and, again, because expectations on him weren't quite as high. That being said, it's still important to discuss imho !

[thearoacespark]

voting (a balanced take? hopefully)

disclaimer: I don’t usually do this. I’m still very young and learning about the world and this is all pretty surface level observation— but I wanted to try and say something anyways—it’s likely imperfect and there is probably nuance I’ve missed. Also, this is mostly geared towards my fellow USAmericans.

I have been guilty of sharing sentiment with “vote blue no matter who, VOTE VOTE” posts, and being gripped with a sense of fear and urgency like no other. I understand. Project 2025, the ideals of Trump’s platform (lots of the immigration ideas eerily close to Proposition 187…) are very scary.

But let’s slow down. Others have said if we’re voting out of fear and as if we have no other choice, then it’s no better than having no choice as all. I have to agree.

In my opinion, while emotion does push people to act and is a good motivator, I feel much better choosing on my own rather than being pressured or guilted by others.

After all, no one can truly force another to do something they don’t want to—but we can discuss, debate, and change minds.

Instead of saying it’s impossible, let’s consider a third party candidate, specifically one that is explicitly pro-Palestine. In my opinion, it’s tough, especially for these reasons:

- No matter how you look at it four months is a short period of time. We might have less than four months, some ballots are printed and solidified early, according to AOC’s Instagram Live Talk. (link: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C9l41vgOAGj/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)

- Many people have not heard of these third party candidates— I had not been familiar with Jill Stein or Claudia de la Cruz before today. Do many people know of the members of Congress who have already called for ceasefire? (https://workingfamilies.org/ceasefire-tracker/) Tumblr endorsements help and I appreciate the information on other platforms regardless, but what about people who are mostly offline?

- There’d need to be a robust and wide-spreading social media, news, TV and more campaign to get enough people informed in such a short time, much less get them on board and overcome the substantial opposition already faced by the pro-Palestine movement in general. Campaign managers need to be paid salaries. Transportation, advertising, food, gas… it costs a lot of money. A lot of people are already struggling financially and donating what they can— and donations to Gaza E-SIMs and evacuation funds help people right now. (By the way, plugging Operation Olive Branch: https://linktr.ee/opolivebranch)

- Even if they do get elected, it can’t be just the president— they will face extreme pushback, likely from all sides, and they need House and Congress and Court members on their side to make not only foreign policy shifts but also other systemic changes to society that are dearly needed.

For now, I’m voting blue because I think it’s our best shot at something better… but if someone has a detailed plan on how to turn a third-party candidate from improbable to possible that addresses these issues in concrete ways, then maybe the conversation can change. The time crunch, however, is extremely tough.

What now?

- Vote. Even if nothing about this post changes your opinion on the presidential election, I’d encourage you to vote, just for voter turnout and to exercise that political power! There are still nonpresedential and local elections that will directly impact your community. (https://www.usa.gov/confirm-voter-registration)

- Continue to advocate for causes you believe in and educate others, and learn about issues outside just the US.

- Being confident in the best action to take and trying to convince others to vote blue shouldn’t mean dismissing criticism of our current institutions and the current Democratic candidate, or attacking people who bring up these criticisms (of course, check for sources and records first!) These conversations should be ongoing.

- Try to fact-check everything you hear and dispel misinformation as much as possible!

- Continue to consider pushing alternative voting methods such as Ranked Choice Voting—I haven’t read into it enough to say more concrete details, but something has got to change 😭

- Share resources whenever you can, and take care of yourself and others :)

[berylcups]

Yandere Files: Ghiaccio X Foreign Reader

CW: stalking, imprisonment, death (mentioned), jealousy, hostess clubs, masturbation, phone sex(is it if it’s one sided?),immigration, outercourse, mild toxicity

Notes: just a disclaimer- I have no idea how immigration works in Italy or how it works across other countries but I thought it would be a good point of conflict for Ghia to act up to. Also- Ghiaccio was a tough nut to crack. (No pun intended 👀) He’s not very sexually motivated as a character he seems so I had to really try hard with this one! I hope it’s not too OOC and you ice fuckers like it though~🩵Beryl

Minors DNI

Y/N has been living in Napoli Italy for about 4 and a half years now. It’s tough living on their own but it’s worth it. They’re in college for design and work a job that they love. They work in a nice cafe as a hostess and it pays ridiculously well! The only catch is… there’s a lot of mafia activity. Y/N hears and sees things they aren’t supposed to- but that’s okay because they look the other way.

Now this was a special kind of cafe. It took heavy inspiration from the east for its heavily…attentive service. Hostesses would be pouring wine for their guests, lighting their cigarettes/cigars, sitting with them, conversing, laughing at their jokes, stroking their ego, and even joining them on drinks - non alcoholic of course! We can’t have the staff getting tipsy on the job!

Melone being the creep that he is, surveyed this place out for good mothers for BabyFace. But he also really likes the atmosphere so he got his other teammates to go along. Even Sorbet and Gelato! The two had no interest in the women but they enjoyed being pampered by them. But Ghiaccio… he didn’t really like it. Why would he want some host/hostess to be bugging him every 5 minutes??? He doesn’t get it! That’s until he met Y/N of course.

Aesthetics didn’t mean much to the man but he thought they were very gorgeous- it didn’t matter how tall or small, thick or thin, light or dark they were. He was enamored by their open mindedness and that they were willing to just actively listen to him. They gave their full attention to this man, and gave out intelligent thought out answers-to the best of their language capabilities.

“Oh uh sorry… what was the correct name for that pasta again? Shit. I can’t remember! It looks like little corkscrews. Like the part of the wine bottle opener you use to screw into the cork .” Y/N struggled trying to find the name.

“I believe the one you’re looking for is fusilli.” He replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yes! That’s the one! Thank you Ghiaccio. Well I had the fusilli alla checca the other day and I was surprised. I really liked it despite me not liking cheese very much. I’m glad I listened to you.” They said cheerfully.

He couldn’t help but smirk from having his ego stroked like that. Of course he’s right! He knows everything about Italy and its wonderful culture.

“Sigh… I’m really gonna miss it here.” They said looking down at their coffee with a sad smile.

Ghiaccio nearly spits out his coffee. “What?!” He yelled. “ I mean- what do you mean by that?” He lowered his voice trying not to cause a scene.

“Well as you know I’m graduating from _____ University in a few weeks… and my Visa is almost up. I only have about 3 months left before I have to go back home to _______.” They said gloomily. “I really don’t want to leave because I love it here so much.”

“Go apply for a permanent residency! They should take you in since you've been here almost 5 years.” He replied.

“I wish I could…but my mom is waiting for me at home and I’m all she has. And the wait time for the documents will take longer than I am allowed here legally.” They signed sadly. “Well… let’s not let this ruin our time together! We still have 3 months. Let’s make the best of it right Ghia?” They chirped trying to bring the mood back up.

He wanted to shake them by their shoulders and tell them that’s not good enough and they can’t just leave him but he can’t just have an outburst. It will scare them away! He has to think of a plan to keep Y/N here with him. PERMANENTLY.

“Yeah, you’re right Y/N. Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.” He said, faking a small smile.

He was seething inside. How DARE they try to leave him. Of ALL PEOPLE it had to be Y/N to turn their back on him?! Not on his watch! He was going to use his resources and connections to make sure that Y/N doesn’t leave the country of Italy ever.

————————————————

Now that he’s smitten with you, some of your regulars stopped showing up. You wonder why? It’s starting to worry you a little bit financially. You have to make sure that you have enough money for the trip home!

“I wonder why people are showing up less and less… am I not doing good enough?” You asked dejectedly.

“No of course not! Their wives/husbands probably found out that they were hanging out here and probably put them on a tight leash.” Ghiaccio lied.

Anytime he’d see one of the patrons get a little too flirty or handys with you he’d corner them in the back alley and beat them with an inch of their lives. Or worse, do what he does best-freeze them till they shatter like glass.

While you’re still here he follows you everywhere and you are too distracted by everyday life to notice it. Oh! He just happens to be near your university! How about a ride home in his nice car? It beats taking public transport. Or when you happen to run into him at the grocery store? How about he gives you a quick ride back home so you don’t have to carry all those heavy groceries home? He’s so thoughtful!

When he’s home alone , or on a mission he’s always thinking of you . He’s sexually frustrated because when he furiously masturbates his hand isn’t enough anymore . He wants to feel your hand around his cock instead or better yet your warm hole.

He calls you often at odd hours of the night just to check in with you. You two have long deep discussions about random things like how English is just ridiculous, or learning about your culture and food, your hobbies, his hobbies, just about everything! In person he’s usually the one talking but on the phone you’re the one who’s doing most of the talking. When he talks he sounds winded, strained? Like there’s repetitive smacking sounds going on in the background. He says he’s just “multitasking “ but with what?

He knows you love your job-he gets it. But… he can’t stand the idea of another pair of eager balls or a thirsty pussy near you. He doesn’t wanna take your joy away but he doesn’t want to live in a constant state of anxiety! You're his! So he’s a straight forward man, so he’s gonna confess his feelings to you when he’s certain that he has a chance. You clearly pay more attention to him, your eyes light up when he comes in through those doors. You eagerly sit in his lap and listen to his usual complaints of the day.

“Aww I’m so sorry that happened. What a douche! He should have known better, you were right to stand up for yourself. You have a reputation to uphold. Is there anything I can do to make it better for you?” You cooed.

“Just having you around is enough to turn my day around.” He said, softening his tone.

“Aww~ Ghia! You’re too sweet. You’re the one I’m gonna miss the most.” You sighed. “Hey… I’m not really supposed to ask this because this could jeopardize my job but…do you wanna go out sometime?” You whispered. “I really really like you and I’ll regret not telling you how I feel before I have to go home… if you’re okay with long distance relationships that is- I understand if you don’t it’s not that easy and I promise I’ll visit as much as pos-“

He put a finger up to your lips to stop your nervous rambling “ of course Y/N. I was honestly going to ask you myself.”he confessed. “As far as long distance goes, we’ll make it work.” He lied, he had his plans in order to make sure you’ll never leave.

He agreed to a long distance relationship because that’s not what he had planned at all. He already got a hold of your passport and other legal documents when you were outside of your home at university. He made sure they were absolutely destroyed. He has Melone currently making him a perfect fake permanent residency card for you. Now you’re NOT going ANYWHERE.

On the days that you’re free he takes you to historic places close by and acts like a more in depth tour guide to you. He hopes this will make you want to stay even more and it’s working. He’ll show you all the best restaurants- not that touristy shit or the Michelin star nonsense. Just real authentic Italian cuisine!

He likes to drive the scenic routes and show you all the lesser known beaches, forests, parks, vineyards, etc. The lesser known the better, so he has the privacy he needs to mercilessly fuck you into the back of his car. He apologized for your first time with him being on top of the back of an uncomfortable car but he just couldn’t help himself. You looked so good with the nice outfit you were wearing!

He’s very athletic so likes to pick you up against the wall as he’s fucking you. He’s all about hard and fast. He’s gonna want to bite at your neck and leave tons of bite marks and hickies all over your body. He wants everyone to know that you’re taken and not available for anything outside your job. He doesn’t cum just once he goes at around 4-5 times with a very insane fast refractory period.

He’s not big on foreplay but he has a fixation outercourse. Watching his cock slip through your folds/ass drives him feral. But he’s not selfish, whatever you want he’ll give to you- within reason. He loves you but he’s very impatient!

He has an obsession with boobs. 👀 big boobs, small boobs, no boobs , pecs… all boobs are good boobs to this tit lover. He likes to use his cold hands and watch the nipples harden and hear you whine that he’s too cold 🥶 it never fails to get a chuckle out of him to hear you whine for him to stop making you so cold!

When it’s nearly time to go home he plays along and helps you pack up all of what you plan to bring back to your home country. Since you’re only packing sentimental items and necessities, there’s not too many bags. Thankfully they all fit in his trunk.

You crash at his house the night before you leave. Only one teeny tiny problem… you missed your goddamn flight!

“You missed your flight and you lost your passport? You know what this means right Y/N? You’re stuck here in the country .” Ghiaccio said very calmly for a tense situation like this.

“ I’m an illegal now! What will I do???” You cried with tears staining your cheeks.

“ I already took care of the problem myself.” He said calmly. He pulls out a fake permanent residency card. It was as realistic as the real thing. Only thing is your last name is the same as his.

You can’t just stay! You needed to go home! This is wrong! You wanted to argue, but there was just something ominous about his demeanor.

“I love you too much Y/N. I can’t let you leave.” He said eerily calm, taking a step closer to you. Was it the anxiety or did the temperature of the room just drop.

“But… you know I can’t stay. I have to go home.” You whimpered.

He took a firm grip on your shoulders and made intense eye contact.

“Oh Y/N… perhaps you're not really understanding the situation. Allow me to say this in a language you understand: You’re not leaving me or the country..”he spoke in your mother tongue and he did it perfectly.

You can tell he’s mad, and you don’t want him to get worse. He’s a part of Passione, you know this. You’re not dumb! Now’s the time to do what you do best, be obedient and do what he says. After all, Ghiaccio knows best.

Once you accept your fate that you’re stuck here with him: it’s till death do you part. But don’t worry he still treats you as if nothing happened. Just as long as you don’t mention anything about it ☠️ or you’ll end up in the chilly basement for a few days. But it hurts him just as much as hurts you! He loves holding onto you at night as he’s drifting asleep. He’d never lay a hand on you, he just wants to make sure you never ever leave him.

But as long as you leave the past in the past (aka- your home and family!) you have a bright future ahead of you with this loving man! 🥰

[marlo-noni]

Here's part 2 of my Mandarin learning journey. For part 1, go here.

After I left university in 2003, I started working in an office. I was able to scrape together enough money to travel to China for 6 weeks in 2005.

I was 25 years old when I went to China for the first time in October-November 2005. I was traveling on my own, and I really didn't have much money, so it was the backpacking type of travel.

I started in Hong Kong, in Chungking Mansions. Then stayed with a friend of a friend in Guangzhou. Then I bussed to Yangshuo, Guangxi province; then an overnight train to Kunming, Yunnan province. Then buses to Dali and then Lijiang in Yunnan. Then back to Kunming, and then a 36-hour train ride back to Guangzhou (this was before high-speed rail in China), and then finally back to HK for a final week.

This was before smartphones and social media. It was the era of internet cafes in China - that was the only way you could get online. It was also before the Great Firewall (China banned Google in 2010). I kept in touch with my family and friends through email, long-distance phone cards, and Livejournal. My posts are still up, actually (that's the first one; you can use the navigation arrows to go to the next one).

My only way of looking up Chinese vocab when I was there was my Oxford Chinese-English dictionary, which as you can imagine is extremely limited! So I had lots of experiences where I embarrassed the heck out of myself and/or was simply not able to get my point across or understand what someone was saying to me. But that's also just learning a second language. Your skin gets thicker the more you do it. There were plenty of times where I was speaking to people who didn't know any English (see: literally 99% of the people on the train), so I just had to muddle through.

Being a white foreigner obviously helps - most people were pretty curious and friendly. When I was in Lijiang (where there were a ton of Chinese tour groups and hardly any foreigners), people wanted to take their picture with me.

I could say plenty more about this trip, but this is about my Mandarin learning journey. You can go read my account of it on Livejournal if you like. Keep in mind it's my PoV from 2005.

When I came back to Canada, I worked in the same office for about a year until I got totally sick of it, and then I became a bike courier for 9 months. This is relevant to the story. Being a bike courier affords you a lot of freedom, but it's physically tough and the pay is terrible. So I started applying for office jobs again, and I eventually got hired as a receptionist for a woman who was a notary public and immigration consultant. The reason she hired me is because I could speak Mandarin.

So, I worked as a receptionist/legal assistant at that office from 2007 to 2013 using my shitty Mandarin every day. My boss was from Taiwan and had originally been a paralegal at an immigration lawyer's office, until she started her own notary and immigration consulting practice. She was also a certified Chinese-English translator. So, the whole reason I'm a paralegal today is because this one lady wanted a receptionist who spoke fluent English and also understood some Chinese.

There were some really great things and really terrible things about that job. The good: I got to use Chinese every day, I learned how to be a legal assistant (notaries in my province can handle real estate transactions and prepare Wills and Powers of Attorney, and immigration consultants represent immigrants to Canada and prepare and submit their applications), and I got to do some simple translations because she was also a certified translator. I also gained a very rudimentary ability to read some traditional Chinese. Most of our clients were from the Mainland, though, not Taiwan.

The bad things: the pay was terrible (I started at $12/hour and ended at $18/hour, and by the end I was fully doing paralegal-level work - at my current job, I make about $42/hour now before taxes!), during the 2008 economic crash my boss had to cut my hours to 4 days/week because she lost a bunch of money in the stock market, and my boss was a tyrant. She scolded me a lot, and I'd often get in trouble for reasons that totally mystified me. I'm sure some of it was cultural, but I also think she was just unnecessarily harsh a lot of the time.

I knew someone who worked at a big law firm who tried to get me hired there, but their HR said I needed to get a legal assistant certificate, so I eventually went to school for 8 months full-time to get that, and then I got hired at my current law firm. I've been working at my current law firm since 2013.

The drawback for my Chinese learning at my current firm is that it's a legitimate mid-size law firm. There are about 45 lawyers. So everything has to be super professional, which means even though I speak some Chinese, I can't use my busted-ass Mandarin with clients. I know very little legal terminology, so anytime a lawyer wants someone to interpret, I can't really do that. Plus, it's Vancouver, so there are already some legal assistants at my firm who are actually fluent in Chinese who can do proper interpreting.

So, Chinese went back to being my hobby. That meant that there were ebbs and flows. I remember watching The Legend of Zhen Huan (Empresses in the Palace) in about 2015 when there was a super edited version of it on Netflix, and I got into it enough that I found the original series with English subs on some streaming site like Dramacool/Kissasian/its equivalent and watched the whole thing. After that, I watched the first half of Nirvana in Fire before something else grabbed my attention - eventually I need to watch that entire series! I remember learning a bunch of guzhuang vocabulary from those series that I hadn't heard before, like concubines referring to themselves as 奴婢, and people saying 陛下息怒 when the emperor was angry.

But what really happened is that my Chinese languished for quite a while. In 2017 I started planning a trip to Japan that I'd eventually take in 2019, and I started studying Japanese on Duolingo and then Lingodeer. I also discovered Skritter at that time, and used it to practice kanji, which of course I already had a huge head-start on because of Chinese. And I gotta say, even though Japanese has a very complicated writing system, it is SO MUCH easier to learn than Chinese, at least in my experience.

Then the pandemic hit, and I'm a white girl on Tumblr with an interest in Asian culture and a Netflix subscription, so what happened next was - you guessed it - in early 2021, I watched The Untamed for the first time. And when I finished it, I rewatched it again. And then I fell down that entire rabbit hole.

And as ridiculous as it is, The Untamed is what fully reignited my Chinese learning so that I'm at the point today where I've learned about 2900 Chinese characters, and I can watch Liu Yuning's livestream and understand about 75% of it. But let's leave that for the next part of this long-ass story.

[clatterbane]

One good thing that came out of today's early morning trip out for more bullshit bloodwork: I found some promising-looking vegetables, which are pretty exotic by local standards but remind me of home! One of the benefits of living in an immigrant-heavy neighborhood. (Doesn't really matter where from IME, just as long as it's got longer warmer growing seasons there.) Hasty lap shot of today's haul when I was about to head home.

Much better view after getting home! Some nice young examples of one common Middle Eastern variety of summer squash, along with some okra. Which was borderline overgrown by my standards, but it didn't feel like it was going all tough and dried out yet--and it's the nicest fresh okra my admittedly near-hermit ass has spotted in years.

On the way home this morning, I got Mr. C to drop me at the nearby shopping center, so I could pick up an Instabox package (shoes) and enjoy the weather and a little exercise while "strolling" the rest of the way.

It was still early enough that at least half the businesses weren't even open yet, but that also meant that things were enough less busy that I felt like I could get in more easily for a better look at a couple of stores I'd wanted to check out more. One of them a halal butcher shop with attached fruit and vegetable shop just across from there, obviously run by the same people. Both are usually mobbed enough that I haven't felt like shoving myself in--especially with the chair.

The butcher side was still not looking so accessible, even with only a couple of other customers in there, plus a few workers finishing getting things set up for the day. I also figured that I didn't really need to go on an early-morning meat buying spree in hot weather--much less when my backpack was already completely full of shoebox, and carrying capacity was already pretty limited. So, no meat for me.

The other side did, however, lure me over with some gorgeous plums. Which sadly turned out to still be so hard that I noped away from those. Yes, I am that produce prodder, and I can be particular. Was hoping they would have some nice leafy greens out front today, but no such luck.

But, then I did spot the okra and then the squash.

I didn't grab much today, since I am the only one in the house who really likes either thing. Plus the okra was running the equivalent of US$7.69/kg, or roughly $3.50/lb. 😓 Squash was $2.90/ or $1.30/lb by comparison. I got away at about $2.50 for both of them together, which really wasn't at all bad by local standards. I am also cheap as hell sometimes and also still mentally comparing with prices on locally grown squash and okra in a much more rural area 15-20 years ago when I was last buying anything back home.

I am also now lowkey pining for some Floyd County peaches, and J. Random Farmer's cantaloupes that he's selling off his truck by the road. Then there's the fresh just-picked regional variety corn. 🙄

If that okra is any good and I see more there in nearly as good a shape, I may have to pick up enough more to try pickling a few jars of it. That's one thing that I do miss sometimes, and I don't really want to try with the frozen stuff--which is usually better for cooking than what I see fresh anymore.

The produce side also carries a bunch of dried fruits and nuts, and some other loose bulk goods including some interesting-looking Afghan brown sugar in like fist-sized chunks which I'd never seen before, but made me think of panela or jaggery. May need to try me some of that.

Also looks like the place to go if you want a sack of pumpkin seeds or similar at reasonable prices! Today I did not, and also did not particularly want to carry that home in my lap because that would have been the only place for it.

Their produce is all out front, but I did go ahead and bull my way back through the rest of the store to get a good look at the dry goods. Needed to shove a couple of obstructions out of the way in the narrow aisles, but I was the only customer in there at that point and idgaf. It was well worth a look around. May need to go back another morning after a few things that looked good.

There is also a spice shop a couple of doors down, which always smells heavenly to go past but is usually so packed that even Mr. C hesitates to peruse it on foot. There were few enough people in there too that I had to roll through and case the joint. Did look and smell like some quality stuff at decent prices. Also some pretty good looking bulk bin dried fruits and nuts and other snack items, and some assorted Middle Eastern sweets. I didn't buy anything there either today, but will probably need to make a morning raid on that too before too long.

But yeah, the day was not all bad. I also got to see a delightful young Boxer out for a walk on the way home.