#she doesn’t need to be ‘actually From There’ ethnically speaking to consider it her home. just growing up there is enough

[tragedykery]

babe wake up new oc lore just dropped (aka long ramble about hira under the cut)

the thing about hira is. she grew up in an orphanage in the western earth kingdom. she was left there as a baby with nothing but her name. she doesn’t know who her parents were, where she’s from, and when her efforts to figure this out prove fruitless, it hurts. she longs for family, for knowledge and identity and culture, only spurred on by the feeling of alienation from (and perhaps jealousy towards) her peers.

(and maybe she conflates those different types of longing, maybe she thinks if she discovers what nation her parents were from she’ll find a new family there.)

so when she finds out she can airbend, she’s overjoyed. she throws herself into learning everything she can about the bending and the culture. she makes plans to go to the temples when she gets off the ship. when she gets there, she’ll finally have a family. she’ll finally be at home.

and that is one of the reasons she struggles so much when she realises she actually likes it on the ship. she likes being with these people, these pirates who have actually begun to feel like some sort family to her. the ship feels like home. and that’s why, eventually, she stays.

(and also, she’s scared. she’s scared they won’t accept her at the temples, that she isn’t air nomad enough. that she doesn’t know enough. she’ll go, just later. not yet.)

she stays, and keeps learning. she learns to meditate, to write air nomad script and speak air nomad languages, to cook air nomad recipes, all under the tutelage of sita (though for the last one, chusak helps too). she’s almost a bending prodigy.

and then she discovers she’s the avatar. and she refuses to believe it.

because being the avatar would mean being not really an air nomad. it would mean a duty to the world, and with that, an inability to fully comply with air nomad philosophy. the avatar can’t stay detached from worldly matters or choose not to harm.

so she denies it.

eventually, with the help of her friends (her family) she learns to separate the concepts of family and culture and identity and bending. she learns her worth doesn’t depend on those things, that she can be multiple things at once, that she doesn’t have to choose. she can do her duty as the avatar and still be an air nomad.

can bend any of the elements and speak both the languages of the eastern air temple and a small village in the west of the earth kingdom and prefer her tea the way it’s served in tea houses decked out in green but prefer her bread the way it’s eaten by nuns and have it be okay. she doesn’t have to choose or change or be perfect to be loved. her family is a motley pirate crew made up of people who find their origins in all four corners of the globe, and they celebrate all their wonderful differences.

so indeed, I think more than anything, wind in the sails is a story about identity & culture & personal growth.

[mischiefandspirits]

Bernard Figures It Out

Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...

"I've connected the two dots."

"You didn't connect shit."

"I've connected them."

Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.

Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.

The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.

There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.

What was he missing?

Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”

“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.

They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”

“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”

Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”

“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.

“What?”

He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”

A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”

“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”

“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”

“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”

“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”

“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”

“But it’s Metropolis.”

“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”

Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.

“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”

“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.

“You know I prefer twinks.”

“BERNARD!”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”

Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”

“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”

Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.

“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”

That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.

“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”

Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.

“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”

“And the actual story?”

“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”

“Isn’t Signal also Black?”

“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”

“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”

“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”

Ouch. Sorry, Dick.

“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”

“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.

“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”

Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”

“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”

Tim pressed his face back into his hands.

“You see it, right?”

Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”

“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”

“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.

“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”

“Why would Bruce do that?”

“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”

“And two plus two is?”

Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”

Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”

“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”

Oh my god.

“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”

Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?

“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”

“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”

“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”

“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”

“Let me guess…”

Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”

Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”

“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”

Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”

“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”

“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.

Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”

Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”

Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”

“The what?”

“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”

… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”

“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”

“Gross.”

“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”

“No.”

“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”

“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”

“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”

“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”

Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”

Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”

“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”

“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”

“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”

Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”

Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”

Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”

“Huh… And the others?”

“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”

“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.

“He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.

The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”

“Sure, Bernard.”

[sisterssafespace]

Salaam ukhti, I do not know what to do. I’ve been talking to a guy for a while now. My mother knows about him she’s happy for us to be wed. Alhamdulilah

So, this guy & I are from different cultures. I’m african he’s indian & I have no problem with that. In terms of his deen he’s perfect for me. The last step was for him to meet my father; I spoke to my father before they met told him he’s asian not african. He seemed completely okay with it at the time. Anyway, on the day he rang him and he hung up to call me. He said a lot of negative things I won’t repeat.

But, my issue is that he didn’t even try to meet him because of his ethnicity? The worse part is I have a strained relationship with him already (we don’t live together). So, the fact he couldn’t even meet a prospective guy for me his daughter his youngest child makes it worse.

Ever since then, we haven’t been speaking and he’s being really rude to me. Constantly making sly remarks about me because he asked what I did. I was angry because he knows he put me in a horrible situation. Since I had to go back to the guy to tell him my father couldn’t come because of an ‘emergency’.

My mother came up with the solution of her older brother going to meet the guy instead. To be honest, I understand why because my uncle speaks better english so they can communicate which I’m grateful for. But, it’s upsetting knowing my dad didn’t even try and I do not know if my uncle can even mehr me if my dad doesn’t say yes.

- ☁️

Assalamualaikum wa rahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu dear sister, I hope you are feeling better by the time you are reading this.

Let me start by saying that your ask hit a not close to home for I can relate on some points. Allahu al'mustaān.

Now, before getting into the story, let me just answer your last question about whether your uncle (brother to your mom) could marry you, if your father doesn't cooperate. Well, I know I clarified in the bio and the opening post that this page doesn't give fatwahs but this is not a fatwah as the fatwah is already there and all over the internet , and it's ' common knowledge ' unfortunately no, the brother of the mother doesn't have the authority to marry the girl off in Islam. In fact, there is a sequence or list of ' wali-s ' who can marry her and in case the father wasn't capable of doing that, then it is the paternal grandfather, then the brother, then the half brother (from her father's side), then her father's brother, then her father's half-brother, then her paternal cousin (son of her father's brother), then son of her father's half-brother, then in case all of them are not available or they don't agree, then it's taken up to the Judge. See, there is no family member from the mother's side in that lineage. Just to be clear.

However, we should consider alllllll the other options that you have before thinking of the worst case scenario, sis. Because even if your father wasn't the greatest man and you don't have the strongest relationship with him, you don't want to start this important chapter of your life on the wrong foot, by upsetting him more, or ruining your chances to fix things with him. It will only complicate the situation more. And keep in mind: it is not permissible to get married without a wali, as prophet Muhammad ﷺ said : There is no marriage without the permission of a guardian.

Now let's see what we are dealing with, I don't know the reasons why your father is having this position - but one can only imagine.. However, Islam is innocent from all these ideologies, interracial and mixed marriage were never a problem in Islam and Allah swt and his Prophet ﷺ never forbid nor advised against marrying someone from a different ethnicity. In fact, the Prophet ﷺ said : "When someone whose religion and character you are pleased with proposes to (someone under the care) of one of you, then marry to him. If you do not do so, then there will be turmoil (Fitnah) in the land and abounding discord (Fasad)."

So, if the only reason why your father is not approving of this marriage is that the potential partner is from a different ethnicity, then your father is in the wrong and he will be accountable on his part. But there isn't much you can do without his approval. So what can you do instead? Is there any uncles from your father's side? A grandfather? An authoritarian family member? Or your local Imam or someone that your father actually values and listens to that you can actually talk to? To convince him to at least give the man a chance? And yes your uncle from your mother's side could talk to the guy and get to know him and maybe then he could tell your father about his qualities and how he is in shaa Allah a perfect fit for you, but again, he can't marry you off.

Now, I am sharing with you the feedback of a sister who is Alhamdulillah in a mixed marriage, she has been thru your experience and is now Alhamdulillah happily married, may Allah bless her and her family : "I understand her pain. They're judging him before even meeting him.. I don't know if there's much she can do tho. I think it's most likely that her father needs time to get used to the idea. He didn't expect her to marry out of the culture, that's a hard pill to slick for a lot of elder people. The advice I can give is to give it time and pray for it. Intercultural relationships is almost normal for our generation but it isn't for the generations before us. We have to keep that in consideration.

Also, if her uncle gets to meet the guy, maybe he can tell her father how great he is especially when it comes to deen. And her mother knows her father the best, she can eventually also speak in on his mindset and make him see that he's wrong to judge someone he hasn't even met.

I pray that her father 'wakes up' and realizes that culture doesn't matter. The only thing that will bring them to jannah, is their deen, and alhamdulillah he's perfect for her deen-wise. May Allah ease their affairs and bring them together in marriage. ❤️"

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

I will finish with this meaningful insight from islamqa.org "While family members may think they are acting in the best interest of their children, there are many cases in which the refusal of parents is based on incorrect presumptions and understandings that stem from their own, distinct experiences and contexts that their children may not necessarily share.

In such cases, if someone does believe they have genuinely found someone suitable for marriage, whether from a different race/culture or not, and their parents still prove to be difficult, they should try to convince them with wisdom and tact, and take all appropriate means to make them see the merits of the decision.

Parents certainly have a right to be concerned about the future of their children, but since it is not the parents entering into the marriage, children also need to make sure they are not being forced into decisions that will adversely effect them in the future."

And most importantly (from the same source) "You should know that marriages are destined by Allah, All-Wise. So if this marriage is facilitated for you, then it will happen, and if not, then it won’t. And in either case, there is wisdom behind this that you are not aware of, so you should pray salat al-istikharah for ease in this matter if it should be good for you. It is best that you take the path of benevolence and kindness in these kinds of issues and don’t rush things lest you aggravate the problems."

To conclude, my dear sister, I KNOW that when we are inn love/ or when we start getting attached to someone, we let our imagination run wild, we build hopes and dreams involving them, we want to be with them asap and we let ourselves get carried away, I know for a fact that you'd want to rush things and just get married to this guy and get it over with, I feel you, I relate to you, I understand you perfectly. But sometimes that's not how life works for a) there's Allah's timing for everything and b) there's Allah's plan for us. We think we are choosing and we think we are planning but it's just an illusion, at the end of the day it's only Allah's plan that works. That's why I pray that your choice matches what Allah swt has already chosen for you, and your plan confirms with Allah's plan for you. Please please please pray Istikhara times and times and times again, tell your guy to pray Istikhara as well, and sis, duāa is your only way out of this. Try to pray Tahajjud (night prayer) if you can, I heard a saying a while ago that anyone who has any need from Allah swt should never miss a Tahajjud prayer. In the quiet of the last third of the night, when everyone else is sleeping, just you and your broken words and you crying heart sincerely and humbling asking for Allah's help and guidance. It works miracles ✨

In shaa Allah kheir my dear, may Allah swt guide you, and bring what's kheir for you closer, and grant you what your heart is wishing for. May Allah swt have mercy on your heart and not allow it to be broken over this matter. Ameen. 🤍

- A. Z. 🍃

[viciousgracearc]

sh.adow & b.one thoughts ( contains spoilers! ) tw: racism ( this is just a thought dump and to explain why i’m not adapting the show’s racist elements in my portrayals )

disclaimer: just because i will not adapt the racist element as it appears in the show doesn’t mean i won’t acknowledge the book canon, in-universe prejudice and discrimination against the poc characters in grishaverse. 

so. the racism in shadow and bone. having watched all of the show, i now have some mixed thoughts about it. in the books, alina is assumed to be white for the most part. it is only at the end when we ( or at least i ) suspected that she is not entirely ravkan, and then the casting confirmed it. the kind of racism alina ( and mal ) faced in the show was never a factor in the books, despite rampant anti-shu and anti-fjerdan sentiment. the suli are painted as people who are displaced and mostly neglected by the ravkan government, and definitely treated with prejudice, but as far as i recall there is no specific slur directed at them either in book canon.

however, whereas alina’s ethnicity is vague in the books, it is crystal clear in the show that she is a biracial woman. i know that for biracial folk, experiences vary across the board, especially if you’re a biracial person and an immigrant or a refugee. alina is a war orphan. her mother’s country of origin is at war with her current country of residence. to an extent, i understand the level of animosity ravkans have against people who look like the threat / the enemy. people of color face racism and prejudice day in and day out, sometimes from white people, sometimes from fellow people of color. this is a grim reality with a long and studied history of racism and racial superiority creating divides between minorities and pitting them against each other.

was the racism necessary to the plot? it definitely adds layers to it. you have an orphaned girl of color in a mostly white people country. they discriminate against her and her best friend for most of her life, using slurs such as “rice-eater” and “half-breed”. but this country has a huge problem, and it turns out only this orphaned girl of color can save them from it, despite them alienating her consistently. now they need her help, now they call her a saint. this girl, who based on show-canon, feels so different and abnormal from the rest of her peers because her ethnicity is always pointed out and considered a bad thing. now she has to be a hero for a country that despises her... and not only that, now she has to do it under the tutelage of a white man. white man looks older than her; there is an obvious imbalance in their power dynamic, but he looks at her like his hope come at last and places her on a pedestal she doesn’t ask for. this same white man puts a collar around her neck and then effectively subjugates her by taking control of her power.

it... it kinda sounds bad, doesn’t it? it does. “but wait,” the volcra screeches. “via, are you fucking stupid?” it asks. “that’s not how the story ends! she overcomes!”

well, yes. but does it really make the rest of it any less insidious? alina is denied food, consistently picked on, and mocked, for being half-shu. it is prevalent in her show storyline and difficult to ignore. and thus it will be woven into everything that happens to her, and every decision that she makes will in turn, make us, the viewers, look back on it even if she herself doesn’t do so explicitly. i know the intent of including this racism element into her ( and mal’s ) story is to portray an accurate depiction of the POC experience as they maneuver white or mostly white spaces, or just spaces not catered to their specific ethnicity. but does it work? is it necessary? the irregulars, which is also a netflix show, did a great job at casting a young chinese woman in a lead role and a black man as dr. john watson without ever having to define their characters or their capabilities to move in the world by their race alone. as a half-chinese woman myself, it was empowering to watch a chinese girl able to take the lead and make bold statements and brave decisions without ever being bogged down by the limitations of her race. 

at the end of the day, it is a fantasy world. do you think if the racism isn’t there, the story’s going to be worse off than it is? personally, if they left it out, i think the story will be just fine. there are a lot of things that tie these characters together outside of their racial struggles, like... i don’t know, personality? circumstances? the need to save their country from a powerful tyrant? the struggle for survival in a constantly at-war nation? there is also the fact that this racism element they’ve introduced is inconsistent. so much directed against alina and mal because they want the viewers to sympathize with these two characters. some of it directed towards inej, another protagonist, whose story has a lot to do with how she was exploited because she is suli. but where’s the racism directed at zoya? at botkin? if there’s racism against the shu and if they call them rice-eaters, where’s the anti-fjerdan racism and what do they call fjerdans? ice-shavers? cold-dwellers? aren’t fjerdans ravka’s enemies too? but oh wait... fjerdans are white. nevermind.

speaking of zoya: in the books, especially in RoW, it was implied that she is white-passing, which is why she was never treated differently for being suli. however, show!zoya is NOT white-passing at all. she is very obviously a woman of color, and while i acknowledge that yes, poc can be racist against poc, i don’t really see zoya -- bully, mean girl, attention-starved, ambitious, ruthless zoya -- resulting to such a low blow. sujaya dasgupta herself admitted that in show canon, zoya experiences racism ( though it was never explicitly shown to us ), and consciously turns it against alina in the hopes of hurting another woman of color. don’t get me wrong, zoya is definitely a terrible person at the start of the series. she was classist and mean and she had a superiority complex, and that superiority complex comes from being a powerful grisha, something she worked hard for. she thinks alina doesn’t belong in the little palace, not because alina is shu, but because alina appears out of nowhere, is untrained but is already considered powerful / the solution to everyone’s problem, and has nabbed her old place as the darkling’s favored. the “you stink of keramzin” jab is more than enough to drive her point home and i don’t think “half-breed” is necessary at all. besides, from what it looked like, alina isn’t the only mixed-race grisha. grisha comes from all over, taking refuge in ravka because they’re the only nation that treats their grisha under acceptable conditions. so one would expect some diversity there, which zoya, having been at the little palace since age 9, would have been used to by now. i don’t really think there’s a lot of incentive for her in using a racial slur, and she’s lethal enough with words that she doesn’t need them to injure somebody. 

“via, stop barking and tell us what you’re going to adapt in your portrayal!”

okay, well. personally, i’m not interested in including the show’s racist element in any of my characters’ storyline ( alina, zoya, mal, ehri ). i acknowledge the anti-shu, anti-fjerdan, and anti-suli sentiments as they appear in book canon, but i will not use alina’s ethnicity as the basis of her “otherness” because i like the book canon explanation for that better. nor will i acknowledge that zoya called alina a half-breed, because my zoya is not white-passing zoya, and she knows infinitely better ways to inflict verbal harm than racism. zoya will also be grappling with being half-suli because she was exposed to anti-suli sentiments by her own mother as a young child. 

all my characters are of asian-adjacent ethnicities, and as an asian person myself, do you really think i am interested in reliving my traumatic racism experiences through the characters that i write in a fantasy world? with alina especially, it’s like she couldn’t breathe without someone pointing out that she’s half-shu. i think as much as it is important to show authentic poc experiences in art and media, it is also equally important to show poc solidarity, and to stop defining people by their race alone and to just let them exist as people. 

it doesn’t help that the show’s way of depicting racism is gratuitous, insulting, and feels like it’s catered more towards the white gaze than... you know, actual POC viewers? i understand people will disagree with me on this and that’s fine. this is just how i feel. given that shu-han as a nation didn’t even feature much in the books and we don’t know ANYTHING about them in a cultural context aside from the fact that their appearance is coded as east asian, the discrimination towards them really just hinges on shallow factors like how they look, what they eat ( ???? ), and how they are viewed as ravka’s enemy. it boils down to an east vs. west type of scenario ( and considering the barrage of anti-asian sentiment in our current political climate it’s... questionable at the very least ), and the racism element is not a profound expression of the poc experience but more like... a caricature version of it, once again, in my opinion.

“via, i can’t believe you used that many words trying to tell us you won’t include the racism in your portrayal.”

hey, i know. but a girl be having thoughts, a girl’s two brain cells be rubbing together, you know? this is me deep cleansing my brain by yoting my thoughts into the void. but yes, this is my take! i understand if you don’t feel the same way, but i just... i can’t feature the racist elements of the show in my blog, sorry (not really).

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[kassies-take]

Dream Come True

Summary: R is Alex’s daughter and Alex wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

A/n: went back to rewatch Supergirl episodes and the moment in season three when the realization that Alex actually does wants kids gave me an idea.

Warning: Fluff

Alex Danvers x Reader, Dansen, Supercorp

Word Count: 1860

Age:  4

Alex and Kara stood next to each other with the grill smoking beside them. 

You were four, after Kelly’s and Alex’s foster class they were able to become foster parents. It took them about five months before they found a match, with you. No one has made you feel loved as Alex and Kelly has. You definitely didn’t make it easy for them for the next four months, you were so stubborn but they both had so much patience and so much love to give. When it came to it, you agreed immediately to have Kelly and Alex as your parents.

Alex was a bit jealous when you first met Lena and Kara, instantly connecting with Lena. Kara was way to excited and scared you away. You were still scared of Kara.

Lena carried you as you both cheered with putting up the tent, considering that you and Lena has never been camping. 

“Are you sure you two never went camping?” Kelly smiled.

“You make it easy,” Lena smirked, kissed your cheek and placed you in the blue tent. 

“Mommy! Look at the tent I made with Lena!” You called from the window. 

There was a calm silence that took between the sisters and their wives. This was the first mom since they met you. You ignored the silence and walked towards Alex. You grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the tent. 

“Mommy. There is space between you and Enat so I can stay in the middle and look at the stars.” A silent cry was made by Kelly as she heard her whole heritage with in calling her mom in her mother tongue. 

“Kara’s almost done with dinner, then after dinner we can look at the stars.” 

A campfire was made with Kara’s heat vision which you didn’t see as you chased Alex, Kelly and Lena around with a water gun. Kelly dried you up before marshmallows were brought out. 

“Mom, mommy!” You panicked when your marshmallow caught on fire.  

Alex grabbed your stick and blew out the marshmallow. You were about to put it in your mouth when Kara showed you how to make s’mores. Needless to say by the end of the night there was chocolate around yours and Kara’s lips. 

“I understand (Y/n), but come on Kara. You too? I married a child.” Lena laughed. 

“A falling star!” You interrupted.  

“Do you know what to do when there is a shooting star?” Kelly asked. 

“No,” you pouted when you didn’t understand. 

Lena’s face dropped immediately. She was adopted when she was four too but she knew what a shooting star, granted it was meteoroids falling into Earth’s atmosphere burning up. 

“You make a wish.” 

“Oh. Enat can take my wish.” 

“Why don’t you want to wish for something, baby?” 

“Cynthia, the nice lady at the adoption place, said we had to take turns.” 

“Okay, it’s my turn to to show you something. Drum roll please!” Alex got up. 

Kara, Lena and Kelly smacked their hands together. Alex came back from the car with a dark blue telescope in her arms. The rest of the night was spent with Alex trying to make you see constellations correctly. 

“Look it’s Eridanus.” Alex moved from the telescope. 

“It looks like a snake. Oh there is a man next to it.” 

Alex smiled before she caressed your hair and looked up to the sky. 

~~~~~

Age: 4 

You sat in between Kelly and Alex on their bed. Normally bed time stories would be read in your room, but their bed was so much bigger than yours and you wanted to cuddle with them.  

You were going through, word by word for the story ‘Sylvester and the Magic Pebble’. Both Alex and Kelly listening patiently.

“They...went..to the...po-” you looked at Alex.

“Police.”

“Police. The police c-could not find their uh their khayld.”

“Ch,” Alex demonstrated. “c and h together make ch sound. So the c.h.i.l.d is?”

“Child?” you said unsure.

“That’s my girl!”

~~~~~

Age: 5

It was take your kids to work day after a long debate and Kelly’s dismay you were going to the DEO with Alex. You knew your mom was a cool secret agent and that Auntie Kara was Supergirl. 

Without Alex and Kelly knowing, she took you flying when she really shouldn’t. The DEO was still a secret agency so the only kid was you. You spun on Alex’s chair in her office, starring at the white ceiling. 

“Alex said you’d be in here!” Supergirl came into the room. 

Your arms immediately reached for her. You snuggled into her arms, you were stuck in Alex’s office since she was needed on a mission. Alex was going to work on her mission statements when she got to it but now she requested for you go to the training room. 

Alex was dressed in her uniform punching gloves by her side. “Sorry mommy had work and couldn’t be with you. But now mommy is going to teach you how to punch.”

“I will get to be like mommy?” 

“Yes, but you got to promise that you won’t tell mommy and you can not use this unless someone hits you first.”

“Okay.” You smiled before you grabbed the two gloves.

“(Y/n).” You turned to face your mom. “You got to pinky promise.”

Your pinkys interlocked before Alex helped you with the gloves. She helped you into a fight stance before slowly guiding your hands to throw a punch. After several punches with Alex guiding you, you began to punch Alex’s gloved mittens on your own. Kelly and Alex has an argument about this, but you ended up looking foreword to Sundays to spar with her.

~~~~~

You were a quiet, didn’t speak a single word. The teachers noticed you didn’t make any progress in your reading skills. Alex was furious and so was Kelly. How dare they say you aren’t making progress when you would read to them every night. Harry Potter for that matter. So you were home schooled.

Turns out it was just hard for you to meet new people. So Superfriends took turns to teach you. You were mainly with J’onn in the tower. He taught history on Mondays Brainy projected himself in the tower to help with math on Tuesdays, Lena always took a half day on Fridays and would help you with science. Kara and Nia would help with English on Thursdays or Wednesdays. That only worked until middle school.

It wasn’t until then when you started through glitter all over your room, frustrated with the fact that your valentine wouldn’t look perfect.

“What’s wrong kiddo?” Alex asked from the door.

“I can’t make this stupid Valentine.”

“It’s not stupid, let me see. That is a lot of glitter. You are not giving this to anyone. No boy likes glitter.”

“It’s for a girl...” Silence took over before Alex stepped further into the room. 

“Well girls don’t really like glitter either.” 

“You always make Valentine’s Day so special with mom. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well everyone always gives a bear and flowers, I like where you are going with the card.” 

You continued to draw yourself and your crush in crayon adding red hearts around the both of you. Alex took the same red crayon, writing ‘the universe can not compare to your beauty.’

“That’s so cheesy! I love it!” You hugged Alex.

~~~~~

Age: 11

Alex woke up with a feeling that something was wrong. She looked to her left and found Kelly fast asleep. She got up and checked on your room, to find you sniffing and curled up into a ball. 

“My sweet girl. You’re okay. I’m here.” Alex whispered as she slipped under the blankets with you. 

You cried into her neck, tightly gripping the back of her shirt. Alex wished so dearly to take away your pain. She hated to see you cry. She rubbed your back and whispered sweet words in your ear. 

You don’t get nightmares easily, you’ve seen your mother defeat aliens and even enjoyed watching scary movies with your mothers. It wasn’t until you found Alex unconscious in the medbay, with wires coming out of her arms when you kept getting your nightmare. All different scenarios of Alex possibly dying in the field. 

Alex knew not to say ask for anything you weren’t ready to share. Alex caught Kelly’s silhouette at the door and gestured for her join. Kelly knew, of course, she was a therapist and she was your mother. Alex held you until you fell asleep again before Kelly told her her guess. 

~~~~~

Age: 16 

Alex had a day off today. She was going through old reports on her bed when  the apartment door was slammed open. It was near lunch time you were at school and Kelly had a meeting that would go past lunch. Alex reached into the reached under the bed and pulled out the gun below. 

The DEO director followed the shuffling and grumbling into your room. She raised her gun before she registered a click from a gun. She cautiously walked towards your room, she turned immediately and pointed her gun at the intruder. 

“Mom?” 

“(Y/n)?” You both lowered your guns. 

“I thought you’d have work.”

“Don’t you have school?”

“I don’t feel safe there.”

“Is that why you have a gun?” Alex raised her eyebrows.

You looked down in your hand before you switched the gun to hold it from the barrel and handed it to Alex. 

“Lets get you food, then we can talk.” 

“They tell me i’m not (your ethnicity) enough, nor am I enough. My birth parents didn’t want me. I think it would’ve been better if I was left to die in that orphanage.

“Hey, your parents wanted you, in fact they came after Kelly and I. They were in no shape or form cable of giving you the love you needed. They gave up yes, but you’re wanted by us. I promise we did not adopt you out of pity.” Alex moved your hair behind your ears. “And no, it would not have been better. Yes, Kelly and I would’ve adopted someone else, but trust me when I say the world is a better place because you’re in it. I’m not just saying that because your my daughter. You brought Kelly and I out of dark places, you have even made Supergirl helpful again. We love you, I love you and you are enough.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you pouted as Alex held you.

“You have touched so many people’s heart. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner. You are a dream come true and I promise you that nothing stands a chance against you.”

“Except Aunt Kara.”

“Except Aunt Kara,” Alex agreed. “Though your Aunt Kara doesn’t stand a chance to your Aunt Lena.”

“Aunt Lena spoils me...”

“Yeah I have to talk to her about that, because apparently you’ve been talking to your Aunt Lena cause she built you a...”

“A stealth suit! This is a dream come true! Of course after you and Enat.”

[nfldunn]

     𝙸 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴—𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉     roswelltask 002     ( @rocketfm )

𝑂𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐼𝑁𝑆 & 𝐹𝐴𝑀𝐼𝐿𝑌.

Full Name:   Gunner Raleigh Dunn

Reason for name:   Mostly stereotypical toxic masculinity, Gunner’s father wanted a “strong” sounding name for his son, believing that it would make him strong.

Nickname(s):   Gun, Dunn, QB, Midas

Date of Birth:   November 1st, 1988

Age:  32

Gender + Pronouns:   Cis-Male, He/Him

Place of birth:   Rockport, Massachusettes

Parents:   Sandra Burns-Dunn & Brock Dunn

Siblings:   N/A

Relationship with family (close? estranged?):   Estranged. Only currently speaks to his cousin who lives in England, as far as biological family is concerned.

Pets:   N/A

𝑃𝐻𝑌𝑆𝐼𝐶𝐴𝐿.

Height:   6 feet, 1 inch

Build:   Athletic, Muscular

Nationality:   American

Ethnicity:   3/4 White, 1/4 Filipino / Spanish / Catalan / Basque / Chinese

Distinguishing Facial Features:   Jawline & Strong, Sometimes Messy Eyebrows

Hair Color:   Dark Brown

Usual Hair Style:   Messy, usually with a minimal amount of product because he runs his hands through it a lot.

Eye Color:   Dark Brown

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birthmarks, scars):   Lightly Tanned, Almost-Olive Skin. A few scars on his hands and also spread over his back and shoulder.

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses):   Anger Issues & Intermittent nerve issues in his injured shoulder that can, at times, leave him in a sling from pain.

What do they consider their best feature?:   His Biceps

Worst they’ve ever been injured (what, how did it happen)?:   While the injury that ended his career was by no means the only time he’d been injured badly enough to put him in the hospital, it is the only injury that truly left him with a lasting impact. It was during an important game for the season, when, upon one of his teammates getting their hands on the ball, he’d made the decision to tackle a member of the opposing team because he was in the best position to do so, and save the ball from the other team. But the momentum from the tackle had sent them off the field, and upon realizing where they were heading, he’d shifted his and the other player’s position in the air so he took the brunt of the impact when they collided with something on the sidelines. The impact, mostly focused on his shoulder, effectively shattered the bones there, and he’d needed to be surgically pieced back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

𝐴𝑃𝑃𝐸𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸.

Favorite outfit:   Decently tight jeans, white t-shirt, and a leather jacket

Glasses? Contacts?:   N/A

Personal Hygiene:   Two showers a day - one when he wakes up, and one after his daily workout. He also has a skincare routine that he does every day, twice a day.

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?:   He doesn’t usually wear jewelry, but he does have his ears pierced. He has a large tattoo that covers most of his back of a tree - with an intricate root system beneath the “ground” that’s visible, that says “no tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell.” He also has a tattoo of a raven on his non-injured shoulder, with a dragonfly right next to it, and delicate script forming a bracelet around his left wrist that says “you say i killed you - haunt me, then.” because the man is a classical novel nerd. And, finally, he has a roman numeral ‘thirty two’ tattooed on his ribs, near his heart, for his jersey number.

What does their voice sound like?:   I’m not even gonna try to explain it, okay, it’s low and gravelly and y’all can listen to it yourself if you really wanna know. The mans straight up sounds like he’s got a sore throat 100% of the time.

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.):   He generally speaks fairly quietly - loud enough to be heard, but generally on the quieter side, unless he’s pissed and starts yelling.

Accent?:   Classic New England accent. But he also has a tendency to drop the ‘g’s from the end of his words, in a more typical Southern habit.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits:   He has a habit of flexing his hands into fists whenever he’s thinking, but generally, he doesn’t have a ton of habits that are unique to him.

Left handed or right?:   He’s ambidextrous, meaning he can use both of his hands equally as well, and doesn’t have a particular instinct towards using either of them.

Do they work out/exercise?:   Almost obsessively. He works out every single day, and usually can’t be caught dead skipping a day.

𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐸𝐹𝑆 & 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐸𝐶𝑇.

Known Languages:   English, French, Filipino, & Spanish

Zodiac:   Scorpio

Gifts/talents:   He has always been a very talented football player, a natural almost as soon as he’d started playing, and is also quite gifted at chess, though that’s something that no one really knows about him.

Religious stance:   Agnostic/Athiest, if not a bit antagonistic towards the idea of a higher power.

Political stance:   Liberal, but like with most things, he doesn’t speak of it in public, so no one would really know. Many people in the past assumed he was a conservative because of the sport he played, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Pet peeves:   Quiet, easily intimidated people.

Optimist or pessimist:   Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert:   He has a “switch” he can turn on and off as the situation needs. He’s generally an introvert, but when put into a situation where being an extrovert would help, he can put on an act to become one without much struggle.

𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐴𝐶𝑌 & 𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑃𝑆.

Relationship status:   Single

Sexual orientation:   Bisexual

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate:   He generally gravitates towards stronger, more dominant personalities, though it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship that it’s generally not something he even thinks about anymore. Someone who’s outgoing and can spar with his prickly mood swings is usually who catches his attention, though.

Ever been in love?:   Once, and while it ended amicably enough, it ruined his views on relationships.

What’s their love language?:   Both physical touch and gift giving.

Most important person in their life?:   It’d been his grandmother at one point in his life, but now that she has passed away, he doesn’t really have anyone - a bit of a lone wolf type.

𝑉𝑂𝐶𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁.

Level of education:   College degree in Classic Studies, with an emphasis on Classic Literature

Profession:   Sports Reporter at Rocket Radio Station

Past occupations:   Professional Football Player

Dream occupation:   N/A

Passions:   Football, Reading, Chess

Attitude towards current job:   It keeps him occupied for a little every day, and is about as close as he’s comfortable getting to his past career, which he appreciates, but he’s not exactly passionate about it.

Spender or Saver? Why?:   He’s a little bit of both. He doesn’t have to worry about money, mostly due to smart investments back when he was famous, but he doesn’t necessarily go around just spending money to spend money. If he wants something, he buys it, and doesn’t really have to think much on it.

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?:   He’s never had to choose, because the thing he loved made him money - but if he had to choose, if he could only have one, he’d choose doing something he loved.

𝑆𝐸𝐶𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑆.

Phobias:   N/A

Life goals:   To fade into oblivion, now

Greatest fears:   Intimacy

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her:   Gunner, for the most part, has no shame - so he generally doesn’t find very much, if anything at all, embarrassing.

Something they’ve never told anyone:   His animosity towards his father had started forming at a young age, mostly culminating in screaming matches between the two when he was a teenager, and that was why he left Rockport for college and never even considered turning back.

Biggest regret:   Not trying to make a long distance relationship work with his high school boyfriend, when he left for college.

Compulsions:   N/A

Police/Criminal/Legal record:   Nothing that actually landed on a record, but he did spend brief stints in “Family House”, a place for kids (mostly deemed “out of control”) to go when they couldn’t manage to get along with their parents, essentially giving them a safe place to go outside of their home and to give both parents and child a break from the tension, as a substitute for the foster system, but he only ever spent a few days there at a time.

Vices:   Alcohol

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝐹𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆.

Hobbies:   Chess

Favorite color:   Charcoal Grey

Favorite smell:   Motor Oil

Favorite food:   Steak and Fries

Favorite book:   Pride and Prejudice

Favorite movie:   Uncut Gems

Favorite song:   (I Just) Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew

Coffee or tea?:   Coffee

Favorite type of weather:   Thunderstorms

Most prized possession:   His collection of Super Bowl rings

Most used word or phrase?:   Fuck

[jessicajonesrp]

Another victim goes out in flames

It had been several days now since Jessica’s brother made his sudden and stunning reappearance in her life, and into her general understanding of his actual being alive. She still wasn’t quite used to this as reality. Every time the words or phrase “my brother” entered her thoughts or left her lips, it didn’t feel like she could be talking about her own life. It didn’t help that she had not actually seen him since he showed up at the door. Spoke to him, yes, briefly, because brother or not, Jessica was not a phone person. Texted him, yes, although not as frequently as she had the thought to do so. But she hadn’t actually seen him again. A part of her was almost worried that if she tried to make arrangements to, it would turn out that she had drunkenly dreamed or hallucinated the whole thing.

So when Phillip called, suggesting they go out for dinner together, Jessica was anxious even as she agreed. It was lame and probably stupid to stress out over going to dinner with your own brother, even if he had risen from the grave, sort of, and she hadn’t actually known him as her brother for over 15 years. But she was anxious, enough that she had to finish a few bottles of whiskey and hole herself up in her office to research her current case several hours before he was scheduled to come pick her up.

Yeah, apparently her brother was a gentleman. He had insisted on picking Jessica up, choosing where to go, and that he would pay for it too. Jessica didn’t know what the hell was up lately with the men she had been encountering. Luke, Danny, Phillip all seeming to know manners, being men in NYC, seemed more far fetched than Phillip’s semi resurrection.

So far the case against the death-fire doctors was slow going, but she had picked up enough information to begin drawing some interesting parallels. Each of the men who died had been hailed as especially accomplished and revolutionary in their field, and each had specialized in something slightly different- neurology, surgery, and orthopedic works. They didn’t primarily work in the same building, but all were located in the same general county, and Jessica had traced that each spent one day a week working at the same hospital. Each also were noted to do “volunteer” surgery and works, some of which were undisclosed to public in specifics. Jessica also had done enough interviews with family and coworkers to note that each had described the man as of a similar personality type- driven, ambitious, singular in focus, and very efficient at work, to the point of having little time spent on personal life matters. Only Dr. Heath White, the person whose death had instigated Jessica’s investigation, was married, and none had children. They were all definitely far too fixated on their work- possibly a factor in their deaths?

Jessica had also noted that although most coworkers had not known the men well personally, and none of the family indicated spending considerable time with them recently other than Karen White, each person she spoke to maintained that the doctors had not seemed suicidal. Secretive, yes, preoccupied, and driven to the point of unhealthy, but not depressed or suicidal.

She was pretty sure that her biggest break would be found once she had finished looking through all the files that Malcolm had managed to pull together from the hospital’s system, once he hacked into it. She had noticed just in a brief skim that the three appeared to all be involved in what looked like similarly filed cases, each which were assigned numbers rather than patient names or even preheadings of John or Jane Doe. Malcolm had told her in an email that the files he had retrieved had been very hard to get to, deeply hidden within the system and not accessible to most of the hospital employees for retrieval. Whatever it was that all three men appeared to be working on together, it was not something that they wanted everyone to know about.

She pushed aside her lingering theories and thoughts on the case as her a knock sounded at her office door. Standing, stretching, and taking a final swig of whiskey, Jessica stood to greet her brother, awkwardly making a gesture somewhere between an effort of a hug and a playful punch on the arm that ended up getting their arms tangled. She flushed, laughing uncomfortably, and then hugged him, marveling again at how very different it felt to do so now with him taller than she was than it had when he was still wearing super hero boxers.

“Hey,” she said somewhat redundantly, stepping back. “You got a car? Or are we doing subway or taxi? That’s what I do, mostly, if I can’t walk. I don’t like driving much. Guess maybe you don’t, considering our history.”

“Subway, if you don’t mind,” Phillip said easily. “I don’t have a car. As you can imagine, that makes moving difficult, so it’s lucky I travel light.”

“Oh, speaking of that, Luke says he probably does have a job for you, if you want to try it out,” Jessica said as she followed Phillip out the door, hands shoved into her jacket pockets as they made the way to the elevator of her building. “Might not be your dream job, it’s a warehouse job through a friend of his. But if Luke’s offering it, I’m sure the pay and hours are decent, and it’s a start, right? Better than part time.” She smirked. “Besides, you tell them you’re Luke’s brother-in-law, and they’ll be intimidated enough to treat you right. Or just tell them I’m your sister, I’m pretty sure a lot of people are more scared of me than him.”

“Yeah?” Phillip said curiously, eyeing her. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t imagine people being scared of you. The most scary thing about you is your makeup during your grunge phase.”

“Says the kid who wore the same t-shirt with a stupid cartoon alien on it for four days in a row until Mom forced him to change it,” Jessica shot back. “Yeah, it’s kind of a thing, people get scared of you when you kill people. Or when you knock them around or lift cars in front of them.”

“But that’s still ridiculous,” Phillip insisted. “Whatever you’ve done, or can do, you have good reasons for it. There’s no reason to be afraid of someone who does things because they’re right. You only do those things to people who earn it. And you wouldn’t have your abilities if you didn’t deserve them.”

Jessica eyed him, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t earn them, Phil. People don’t get superpowers because they deserve them, they just have them. Look at Kilgrave, did he deserve his? Besides, just because you have good reasons for doing things doesn’t always make it right. He thought he had good reasons for what he did, and he was a monster.”

She is twitchy now, as she usually is when the mention of Kilgrave comes up, and bolts out abruptly when the elevator lands in the parking garage of their building. Phillip puts a hand on her arm, apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to offend you. I just…I believe in you, that’s all. I think it’s pretty amazing, who you are, what you can do. And what you can do with it.”

“You sound like Trish,” Jessica muttered, rolling her eyes. “You guys should get along great, she’s always “ra ra, Jessica the super hero” too.”

Phillip’s eyes flicker briefly when she mentions Trish, and he shrugs. “Maybe. Doesn’t seem to me like we’ll have a lot in common, from what I’ve read about her. Drinking is one thing, but hard drugs? And she’s been to rehab more than a few times, right? They says addicts are liars, just by nature of the addiction. I’ve known a few, had a few as foster parents. I always questioned how much of what they said was real and how much of it was an act.”

“Hey, that’s not who she is anymore,” Jessica said sharply, his words cutting deep. He wasn’t just implicating Trish, but herself as well with his declaration, although he had dismissed alcoholism as being different than drug addiction. “She’s been out of that life for a long time now. Hell, between the two of us, I’m the one people should be less willing to trust.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Jessie,” he said, shrugging. “You’re her friend, you know her. I wasn’t trying to cut on her. I’m just telling you what my experience has been. Like I said, I had foster parents into drugs, and a lot of kids in the foster homes and group homes too. It could really make life hell sometimes, living in that when there’s nothing you can do to get out of it.”

Jessica, having come to a pause in her walking to face him in Trish’s defense, blinked, uncomfortable and guilty at his second referral to his experiences in foster home. Every time she remembered growing up privileged, with all her basic needs met if not her emotional ones, in the Walker’s home, she felt almost personally responsible to know that her brother had not had the same experience. She exhaled, looking away.

“It’s okay. So, um….subway. Let’s get to it.”

Jessica started to resume walking to the parking garage entrance, stopping as a weathered gray mini-van entered to let it pass and park. She rolled her eyes, recognizing it as belonging to the Morrisons, a couple who lived on her hall and whom she avoided whenever humanly possible. The Morrisons had six kids, and Jessica knew them to be foster kids not because of their variety of ethnicities but because of the multiple obnoxious bumper stickers plastered over the mini-van, each some variation of declaring Nicole Morrison as being a “foster mom.” It reminded her of the fuss Dorothy Walker had initially made over being an adoptive mother when Jessica first came to live with her- only in public, of course. Although the woman had barely spoken to her, the public declaration of being a foster parent, which Jessica viewed as an invasion of the children’s privacy, coupled with the strangely quiet nature of children whenever she passed them, had made her suspicious of Nicole’s motives for having them and just how she may treat them behind closed doors.

Whatever. She was just glad she hadn’t been stuck in the elevator with her.

She hurried her steps towards the entrance of the parking garage, wanting to avoid eye contact as she heard Nicole Morrison get out of her car and lock it, and definitely wanting to avoid any kind of forced small talk. She heard the woman’s heels clicking as she started to walk, presumably towards the elevator or stairs, and wondered what kind of mother of six kids still felt the desire to wear high heels, and noticed that Phillip’s softer footsteps behind her had slowed in pace. She was starting to turn back towards him, to order him or tease him about hurrying up, when she first smelled the smoke.

Jessica frowned, thinking at first that either Phillip or Perfect Foster Mom was smoking, which was not only something she hadn’t though either engaged in, but was also not allowed in the parking garage, as several large signs declared. She didn’t actually see the fire until Nicole Morrison’s shrill screams pierced the air.

Jessica pivoted sharply, the tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing up in spooked recognition of what she was hearing. She recognized the sound of anguish mingled with terror. She had heard it too many times to ever be able to forget.

Nicole Morrison stood in between the rows of cars, writhing, arms flailing in panic. Her entire body was engulfed with flames, so brightly heated that Jessica could actually see hints of blue in the parts closest to the woman’s rapidly charring body. From over fifty feet away Jessica could still feel their heat, and the combination of smoke mixed with burning flesh made her cough, almost choking, before she forced her stunned, wire-tight muscles into action.

“Drop down! Stop, drop, and roll!” she shouted at the woman, but the woman was too far gone in pain and fear to probably hear or comprehend.

Jessica’s eyes darted, looking for some source of water, a blanket, a tarp, anything that might smother the flames, but there was nothing. It was a fucking parking garage, all she could see stretched before her was miles of useless vehicles. It occurred to her briefly that Dr. Heath White had also been burned to death in a parking garage, just before she sprung forward to try to help the suffering woman.

Tearing off her own leather jacket, she used it both as a protective cover for her hands and as a shroud over the woman as she pushed her down, then used her jacket to beat at the flames. It didn’t fully extinguish them, but they did reduce in volume enough for Jessica to be able to grasp the woman and roll her back and forth, smothering the rest. She choked, almost vomiting, when part of the woman’s skin peeled off into her hand, and tried to ignore the stinging burn of smoke irritating her eyes, throat, and nose. Her own hands were beginning to grow singed before she managed to fully put out the flames, but none of this was bothering her. Nicole Morrison had ceased making any sort of noise at all, not so much as a whimper, and what was left of her features and body was so horrific she barely seemed recognizably human.

Remember Phillip suddenly, Jessica tore her eyes from the woman that she wasn’t quite certain was even still living, barking out an order to him sharply.

“Phillip! Call 911, fucking hurry!”

But when she received no verbal affirmative, and whipped her head over her shoulder to repeat the direction, she saw that Phillip was nowhere within her view. What the fuck, where was he? Had he left? Had he been so frightened he bolted?

She couldn’t worry about that now. Hands shaking, she fumbled for her own phone, then, remembering it was in her jacket pocket, cursed vividly, reaching into the badly damaged garment for it. The phone cover and screen were burning hot to the touch, but otherwise appeared possibly still in working order. She dialed 911 with still unsteady hands, explaining the situation in a voice she didn’t quite recognize as her own, then looked down at the woman she was still kneeling in front of, knowing even before checking her pulse that she was dead.

Eyes tearing in what Jessica told herself was entirely due to the smoke, she stood, backing several feet away, and dialed Phillip’s number in between coughs. When he didn’t answer her, she dialed him again, then a third time, until he finally picked up, his voice almost as small as the child Phillip’s that she remembered when he said hello.

“Where the fuck are you, where the fuck did you go?!” Jessica almost screamed, the hand not holding the phone clinching into a fist and accidentally breaking the skin of the blisters forming on her palms.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice still small, shaken. “I just…that woman, and…it was just so…I haven’t seen anything like that. The way she sounded, and the smell…I’m sorry Jessie, I couldn’t deal. I couldn’t do it.”

“You ran away? You just left?” Jessica said, incredulous, although this was what she already knew to be true. “How could you just leave her dying like that?”

“I’m sorry….I couldn’t deal with it, it was….I couldn’t be there,” he whispered, taking a shaking, audible breath. “I couldn’t have helped her. I knew it, and I guess I just…I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“It’s…it’s okay,” Jessica exhaled, the action invoking another coughing fit for a few seconds before she could catch her breath enough to continue. “Don’t…don’t do that again. Just…just go back to where you’re staying, okay? We’ll have to do this hang out thing later. I have to stay with her until the ambulance come. And probably the fucking police too. Fuck.”

She hung up, breaking into another coughing fit, and leaned back against the wall of the parking garage, as far from Heather’s body as she could be while still being able to see her. Closing her eyes briefly, she fought off a threatening panic attack for several minutes before dialing Luke’s number.

“Luke,” she said, her voice hoarse and strained, and interrupted with another cough. “I need….I need you to come to my office. No, not there, I mean the parking garage to it. I’m about to be asked a shitload of questions by the police, and I may need a lawyer.”

[asocier]

          because i forget my own headcanons and have yet to really flesh out very important details, here is a masterpost of topaxi headcanons and lore pertaining to alison/nathalie, emile, and leah!  

          tl;dr: new locations mentioned in this post include alsace ( alison and emile’s home country before topaxi ), district 104 ( aka the artists’ corner/the arts district; alison and emile’s home district ), hue ( leah’s family’s home country ) and district 249 ( aka international district; leah’s home district ). 

alison/nathalie and emile clair

          previously mentioned in this post ( but never discussed at length ): the clair family do not have roots in topaxi. more specifically, the family do not have roots in the city of topaxi, though their home country of alsace located on the continent of gaea is part of the topaxi empire and has been for some time. as such, the decision to move to the city of topaxi was a rather easy one, the move done out of much convenience considering how fast the family wanted to start over after alison and emile’s father’s disbarment. 

          to elaborate on the disbarment and its effect on the family ( also pulled from that same post from earlier ): 

          the decision to move to topaxi was hastily made in an attempt to start anew after an unfortunate courtroom incident involving emmanuel clair, emile’s father, who made his living as a well-established defense attorney. his reputation in the courtroom ultimately led to him making some enemies, and a well planted piece of forged evidence in a high profile case led to emmanuel’s downfall and subsequent disbarring ( think ace att/orney tbh ).          

          the blow to emmanuel’s reputation drew media attention not only to himself but his family as well, and with two young children, it was decided that moving away from their home and taking up a new life would be the best, even if this new life wasn’t as lavished as before. and so topaxi was chosen to be their new home – and topaxi is mostly what emile and his twin sister alison know.

         to expand on the last sentence: emile and alison moved from alsace to topaxi when they were five years old, meaning they’re still able to remember their early days outside of topaxi in addition to the family’s move and the reason behind it. they were quite aware of the differences between living in alsace and in topaxi as they adjusted to their new life, and the twins’ slight accent in speech drew attention from classmates who were born in topaxi. all in all, however, the twins do see the city of topaxi more of their home than alsace, and they have a significant attachment to the district their family moved to and grew up in.

          district 104, nicknamed el rincón de los artistas, the artists’ corner, or the arts district for short, is well known for its colorful buildings, cobblestone paved streets, street murals, and frequent live performances in the park located at the district’s heart. many of topaxi’s artists, musicians, and writers either have called district 104 home, performed in one of the district’s performance halls, drawing many from all over to visit the city, even if it’s only for a night, or contributed their works to the district’s own museum. during the day, bazaar vendors are often showcasing their handicrafts, and local performers looking for their big break can be seen busking at the train station or outside restaurants. upon first glance, district 104 seems to be thriving, but many areas of the city struggle financially. 

          similar to how some artists successfully secure and hold onto fame while others struggle, the same can be said about the locals of district 104. on paper, district 104 seems to be doing quite well, but the locals know better than to consider the district wealthy. toci elementary school ( escuela primaria toci ), the school emile currently teaches at, is an example of this dearth in financial support that can exist in some parts of 104. this school, located at 7Sc 19 D104, is home to a little more than 100 students and is considered to be the worst school in district 104 on account of how underfunded it is, how “misbehaved” the children are said to be, and how run-down the area seems to look in comparison to the district’s center. 

          this school also happens to be where alison and emile attended as children. the twins often found themselves returning to this school even as they aged to volunteer and play with the children, the twins acting like older sibling figures to many in the area. considering the fact that the clair family was generally well off and lived quite comfortably, they did as much as they could to support their local community, a sentiment emile still holds very close to his heart. while alison ends up leaving her home district for the central district, her impact in the community can be seen via the murals that are painted on the side of the elementary school and on the side of some of the local businesses. she played an active role in encouraging the youths in her neighborhood to express themselves artistically, and many of those who bonded closely with alison have taken interest in studying art when they’re older. 

leah nguyen 

          district 249, nicknamed el crisol del mundo ( the world’s melting pot ) or more succinctly, the international district, is where leah calls home. while topaxi as a whole is known to house people from all over the world, district 249 has taken the idea of a cultural melting pot to a new level to draw in tourists. rumored to have been a district that acted as a refuge for those displaced from their home countries by the many topaxi conquests decades earlier, district 249 today is comprised of many ethnic enclaves that neighbor one another and is considered one of the most culturally diverse districts in topaxi. any tourist who comes to visit can clearly see the variety of sights, sounds, and tastes the district has to offer just by walking down the main road that splits the district in half. 

          originally from hue located on the southeasten part of the houtu continent, leah’s parents found themselves in district 249 after the second most recent topaxi conquest. with much of the continent already under topaxi rule, it was only a matter of time before the topaxi advancement foreces ( taf ) would move into hue next, and despite the country’s effort to defend itself, it was inevitably conquered, sending many to either flee to neighboring nations or to topaxi itself in hopes of finding refuge and better living conditions than their war-torn homeland. 

          many of leah’s family members participated in the war between topaxi and hue, including her father. while her father speaks little of what he experienced during the war, she’s aware of his continued military service even after he had fled hue with her mother, a story many from hue share as they looked to topaxi for new opportunities and better living conditions than their newly war-torn homeland. enticed by the taf’s promises of honor and good pay, former hue natives swallowed their pride and began to fight on the side of the victor in the most recent set of conquests. this is a story many in district 249 share, as well; after having their homeland ransacked and conquered, many find themselves desperate for ways to support their families and turn to enlisting in topaxi’s army, which seems to be always looking for disposable members. unfortunately, ichor poisoning on account of being exposed to high levels of ichor in a short period of time was common for those enlisted in the army, and it wasn’t long before miasmic symptoms hindered many soldiers from living their lives normally after they were discharged.

          growing up in a community so heavily affected by ichor poisoning is actually the driving force behind leah’s decision to attend university and pursue her current research interest. her studies are very interdisciplinary: while she is officially a student of the psychology department, the research she conducts with her supervisor is a collaborative effort between the engineering, psychology, and robotics departments. interested in measuring the public’s perceptions of the newly developing prosthetic technology and capturing the stories and experiences of those who suffer from miasma ( as a result of warfare, ichor mining, or other sources of ichor poisoning ), leah plays a role in the interview and transcription process of the research and works closely with her research team to present this information to the other departments. 

          having grown up in district 249 all her life, leah was exposed to many different cultural influences at an early age, and as such, she picked up on many useful phrases in different languages during her time in the district. she’s only fluent in two languages, but her ability to understand bits and pieces of conversation in other languages seemed to have added to her appeal to both the admissions office and her current research lab at topaxi’s autonomous cultural university, or universidad cultural autonoma de topaxi ( ucat ). being the first in her family to attend college, there are high expectations resting on her shoulders to be successful, and there’s a constant need for leah to better and prove herself as she navigates academia. she currently resides in district 21, the university district, to complete her studies. it’s a bit far from district 249 so she doesn’t return home often, but she writes to her family when she can and visits during long holidays. 

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #3: Bulky

The entity scowled, tapping his (its? Their?) foot impatiently. “I told you, you get to bring one thing.”

Sara smiled brightly at him. “This is one thing. My garden.”

Ganymede looked down at her, his expression even more supercilious than usual. “Do you honestly think I’m going to allow an entire garden as one thing?”

Sara sat down on the tree stump. Part of her still couldn’t believe she’d lost the house, that all of this – the tree stump her father had cut down to prevent the wind from knocking it onto the house, the tire swing he’d put up for her, Mom’s rose trellises all around the house and the herb patch she’d had Sara weeding and tending from the age of 5, the screened-in porch, the attic bedroom – all would be gone in a matter of weeks. The bank would take it, and sell it to someone who would probably destroy everything her parents had built to make the place special and unique, and she would never see any of this ever again.

She’d thought Ganymede’s offer would allow her to take at least a part of her home with her, but he was balking.

“When you think about it, can we describe anything as just one thing?” she asked. “Everything we have is made of molecules, which are made of atoms, which are made of quarks. We’re all a multiplicity. We all have legions contained within us. So how is a garden not ‘one thing’ but, say, if I wanted to bring a bicycle, that would be ‘one thing’ even though it’s made of so many things?”

Ganymede’s expression went from deeply irritated to reluctantly amused, and he chuckled. “A nice argument, but no. Your garden’s too bulky. It can neither transport you, nor can it be carried around with you.”

“You never said there was a weight limit.”

“It’s not a weight limit. If you wanted to bring a car, you could. I don’t advise it, but you could.”

“Are any of the others bringing a car?” Sara asked.

Now Ganymede laughed. “Tsk, tsk. I told you I wouldn’t tell you anything about what the others are choosing.”

Ganymede – who appeared to be a tall, slender man with pale skin and curly green hair, like he was some kind of comic book character, and who claimed to be a very bored alien with godlike powers who was taking human form so that he could interact with Sara – had showed up at the café Sara waitressed at, three weeks ago, and was apparently very impressed with Sara’s ability to put up with entitled idiots and even get them to calm down and do what they were supposed to do. He’d ordered cherry pie and asked her if she’d ever wanted to travel into the past, and when Sara had pointed out that in the past, she would have had her rights severely curtailed because she was a woman, he’d asked, what if she could bring one thing from this time, one thing in her possession?

Sara’s master’s degree in the history of plant cultivation in Europe and how it impacted society had never done her a damn bit of good. It had resulted in crushing student loans that a job as a waitress couldn’t keep up with and still pay the mortgage her parents had left to her when they’d died in a car accident, and it hadn’t resulted in a good-paying job in academia like she’d expected when she started college. She was about to lose her parents’ home, the only place she’d ever considered home in her life. And before her boyfriend had dumped her last month, he’d turned most of their friends against her with lies and distortions.

Sara didn’t want to die, but she had lately been seriously reconsidering how badly she actually wanted to live.

So she’d agreed to Ganymede’s offer. Go back to the pre-Renaissance medieval era – or something very much like it – with one thing brought from the future. He’d explained that she wouldn’t actually be going to her own world’s past, so she couldn’t create a paradox by changing the future – she could freely do whatever she wanted without worrying about making her grandparents never born or something. He’d also told her that he was making the same offer to several other people, but that she wouldn’t necessarily get to meet them unless they happened to run into each other by chance in the past-world. And she had a month to get the thing she wanted to bring to the past.

Sara had spent the last three weeks digging up her garden and potting everything in ceramic pots, figuring ceramic wouldn’t be an issue in the past like plastic would be. Sadly, she’d had to abandon the apple trees, the peach tree and the grapevines – she couldn’t exactly dig out trees and pot them – but she’d gotten everything else. The potatoes had been a challenge – exposing potatoes to light while they were growing would make them inedible, so she’d had to dig them out on a cloudy night with no moon, more or less digging by feel instead of sight. Carrots, potatoes and onions had needed very large, deep pots. She’d wound her zucchini around a tomato cage in the large pot she’d put it in. The small fruit bushes – the blueberry bush, the raspberry bush – were already in pots. She had her peppers, her tomatoes, her tiny soybean bush, her arugula.

And now, after she’d done so much work to pot everything, Ganymede was telling her she couldn’t bring it?

“Look, if I had a caravan wagon and a horse, I could definitely carry all of this.”

“But you can’t bring a caravan wagon and a horse back with you.”

“No, but I could get one there.”

Ganymede chuckled. “You think I’m sending you with money? You get period-acceptable clothes, the ability to speak the language, immunity to all the local diseases, and the thing that you bring with you, and that’s it. If you appear in the middle of a field, or a town square, surrounded by potted plants, how are you going to bring them with you to whatever shelter you need to take?”

“They’re plants. If I have to leave them out in a field for a few days while I carry them all to wherever I end up going, nothing bad’s going to happen to them.”

“And what if you appear in the middle of the town square?”

“Then I prevail upon some good gentlemen to help me move them someplace safe.”

A deep sigh escaped Ganymede. “I’m almost tempted to let you. Just to let you find out first hand how much your plans are not likely to work. But no. An entire garden is too bulky, and I’m quite certain that most humans would define a garden as a collection of things, not one thing.”

“Come on! I did a lot of work to put all these plants into pots! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Sadly, no.” Ganymede walked around the garden of pots, randomly touching most of the plants. “You did do quite a lot of work. I tell you what, I feel bad for you. Pick something else to bring and I’ll make sure all your plants get donated to people who like to grow things and are good at it.”

“And aren’t racists,” Sara insisted.

“It’s interesting that that matters to you; aren’t you part of the dominant ethnic group in this nation? Racism doesn’t affect you, generally speaking.”

It was true that Sara was white, and therefore, racism rarely directly affected her, but she had an answer for that. “Racist people in this country have been brainwashed into believing that climate change is a hoax, that gay and transgender people are some kind of terrible threat, and that it’s more important to make sure the government doesn’t tax rich people than to put any accountability on big corporations. Everything bad that we can’t get solved in this country and we can’t even begin to start solving it, because people won’t let us… it’s because rich people have figured out how to use racism to brainwash white people into voting against their own interests.”

“Oh, I understand.” Ganymede grinned broadly. “You’re a hippie, aren’t you?”

“Uh… not really? That was sort of my parents’ generation? I think of myself more as solarpunk. But if what you’re trying to get at is that I’m someone who cares about the environment and wants people to be happy and healthy and to care about each other, then yeah.”

“All right, very well. I’ll hand them over to people whose political beliefs generally track with yours, who are good with plants, and who have space to grow them. Now, pick something else.”

“A big sack that I can carry on my back, maybe 50 pounds, and I get to fill it with seeds and bulbs and anything else plant-related that I can fit in the sack.”

Ganymede raised his eyebrows. “You’re really dedicated to this bit, aren’t you?”

“I know how to use plants to change history. I don’t know how to change history with anything else – not in a way I might want to. I mean, I could bring a gun, but after I was out of ammo, what good would it do me? And also, I don’t like guns.”

“All right,” Ganymede said. “I’ll allow it. As long as you can carry the sack on your person, you can stuff as many seeds into it as you want.”

Sara smiled at him with her best customer service smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate that.”

“One more week,” he said, and vanished.

One more week and she’d leave all this behind. One more week and she wouldn’t have to worry about the foreclosure and impending eviction anymore, because she’d be in a whole other world.

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 5)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 4 !

A/N: This chapter is shorter than past ones, but somehow I don’t think you guys will mind, considering...well. You’ll see.

TW for another Attempted Murder. And an actual onscreen murder. 

---

You go right back to your cell. You don’t come out for dinner or the rest of the free time you’re allowed. 

Yancy doesn’t return to the cell either. 

Rex pops in, leaves beef jerky and apple slices on the little coffee table that also decorates your cell. 

“I’m not much of a cook myself,” Rex says to your back. “That’s my cousin’s specialty. He’s been working for the same rich bastard’s family for twenty years now, but on occasion he comes by to teach me a thing or two. Let me know if you want me to teach that Yancy dick a lesson.”

You mumble a thanks, but you don’t turn away from the wall. Your tears have long since dried up, but you’re in no shape to be interacting with anyone else.

The worst part? There is the smallest part of you that thinks...you could probably be happy here. With Yancy and Tiny and Rex and Jimmy and everyone else. Sure, you could do without the constant fear of getting shiv-ed in the shower, but you also deal with the fear of getting killed at home. On the way to and from work. In your office. Living in fear of getting killed over your ethnicity and gender (or lack thereof) is par the course, but at least here you’ve built up the kind of reputation where the backlash to your death would actually cause a stir outside of your professional influence.

If--when you get out of Happy Trails Penitentiary, you’re going to miss these people. At least you can rest with the knowledge that a few of them have your back.

You hear someone else stroll down the hall. Notable, since the cells are all empty right now. It might just be Rex or maybe someone else checking in on you. Still...you’ve been lying here for about half an hour, you should probably get up. 

As you start to do so, a length of cloth suddenly pops in front of your vision and tightens around your throat. 

The air knocks out of you as you’re dragged from the bed and land hard on the floor. You can’t get a look at your assailant and struggle to slip your fingers under the cloth to get it away from your throat and panic rises in your chest and you can’t breathe, you stretch out a different arm and scratch at whatever part of your assailant you can reach. All you get for your efforts are grunts of pain and the cloth tightening further on your trachea, but then your arm reaches back even further in a last-ditch attempt and you manage to crack your knuckles into his nose and listen to your assailant cry out, but your vision is already blackening and you have enough time to think, this is it, this is it, Mom, I’m so sorry, I--

“EAGLE!!”

The cloth jerks and then drops and you fall to the floor in a heap, hand going for your bruised throat. You roll over and try to climb to your feet. Tiny is on your assailant’s back, legs wrapped around his abdomen while her arms have him in a deadly chokehold. The assailant spins and rams her into the wall of the cell, knocking over the small nightstand and the lamp. Tiny clings tighter through the pain in her face but after three more hits into the wall, she drops her grip and falls to the floor while you’re still regaining your breath and reaching for the lamp (it’s the nearest and closest thing to a weapon in your reach). 

Your assailant turns back to you and pulls out a shiv but then Yancy comes barrelling out of nowhere and stabs the guy in the stomach with his own shiv.

Your assailant drops to the floor in a bloody heap. Yancy kneels beside him and turns him onto his back. “How about you tell me why youse just tried to off my friend here, and I’ll consider endin’ your life a little sooner. Cut youse’s suffering short, ya know?”

The assailant gurgles before looking at you with a sinister grin. “You know exactly who sent me.” He starts to laugh and you only have a moment to be unsettled by this reaction before Yancy reaches out and slices the shiv across his throat.

You shut your eyes and press the heel of one hand against your eyes while your other hand continues rubbing at your throat. You feel someone touch your shoulder.

“Hey, Eagle,” Tiny whispers. “Let me get you to the doc, okay?”

You’re stuck in a daze as you let Tiny lead you from the cell. 

You almost died. In a far more horrific way than bleeding out from a shiv. You’ve seen too many of these cover-ups come across your desk before. 

You almost died. Again.

But what’s even worse is that your attacker wasn’t another inmate. But he was someone you’ve seen in the prison before.

He was a guard.

---

“I was telling off the boss for his behavior,” Tiny explains later, while the doctor looks you over. “I told him he overreacted and that you hadn’t done anything to deserve his bitchiness. He didn’t take it well, but I didn’t care and I came to look for you…” She looks down. “Maybe if I hadn’t stuck around to yell at him, I would have found you sooner--”

“You--” Just the one word hurts like a bitch coming out of your damaged trachea. You clear your throat and try again. “You saved me, Tiny. Thank you.” One of your arms spreads out, a silent offer, and to your surprise, she smiles and steps into your embrace.

Is this what it’s like to have a sister?

The thought hurts almost as much as your throat.

You don’t see Yancy until you’re escorted back to your cell by Tiny and Rex after getting the “okay” by the doctor. He’s standing by the bars, waiting for you. Arms crossed, head ducked. He looks oddly contrite. 

Not that you’re noticing very much, considering you’re still shell-shocked by the assassination attempt and the implications behind a prison guard making the attempt.

But when you’re inside, Yancy puts his hand at your elbow and leads you to the bunk while Rex escorts Tiny down to her cell. You exchange a grateful nod with her before sitting down on your bed. 

Yancy sits down next to you. “I...I...” he shakes his head. “Youse almost died here.”

If it didn’t hurt to speak, you would have had a lot to say in response to such an obvious statement. As it is, all you manage is, “Hadn’t noticed.”

“I shoulda been here,” Yancy insists. “I shouldn’t have…” You see him look at you out of the corner of your eye. His gaze lingers on the facial injuries you sustained from your fight with him. “I’m sorry.”

If you were in a better mindset, you could have appreciated the significance of Yancy apologizing. But all you can think to say at that moment is, “You were there. You and Tiny. You saved me.” You shake your head, tears falling down your face for the second time that day, for the love of God. “Our last interaction wasn’t that stupid fight, at least.”

A shuddering breath leaves Yancy at that. You take that to mean he feels the same about the situation. 

“Yancy.” Your voice sounds so hoarse. “A guard tried to kill me.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t safe before. But if any guard here can also get me…” You bite your lip, then wince as the action stretches a cut on your chin. By chance, you reach back and rest your hand on the blanket behind you. Your eyes widen in horror and feel around the bed frantically.

“My notebook is gone.”

“What?”

You stand and glance frantically around the cell space. “My notebook, I always have it either on that table or hiding in my bed-sheets, it was here before I was attacked, and now it’s gone.”

Yancy stands up, an unsettling realization slowly shaping his face. “What exactly was in that notebook, Eagle?”

“That’s just it!” You hiss back to him. “Nothing incriminating for anyone! I hid my mom’s picture in there!” That reminder is particularly panic-worthy. “It’s a list of books inmates are asking for, other possible improvements that can be made to Happy Trails, the only thing I can think of is--” You stutter to a stop and fall back onto the edge of the bed. “Oh God.”

“What?”

“I...I just wrote up a list of people I could probably talk to about grants that could be used for Happy Trails. That’s the only thing I can think of that would make someone take it. Only one person in the entire prison could benefit from that kind of list.”

Yancy’s eyes narrow into something dangerous and he starts rattling the bars of the cell. “Rex! I need to speak to the Warden!”

“What?!” Rex shouts back from the end of the hallway. “Now?”

“Yes, now!”

---

Even though you insisted on joining him, Yancy made you stay in the cell. You obey, because you are so damn tired and wrung out, the idea of confronting the warden over your notebook might be a little much for you.

But it means sitting in a cell. Alone. The same cell you were almost murdered in. A double-edged sword. You feel as though you’re going to sink through the floor into the darkness and let it choke you up until the moment Yancy is escorted back. 

The grim looks on Yancy and Rex’s faces are not encouraging.

“What are the odds that the warden will put me in protective custody after he stole my notebook of financial backers? Or that he’ll at least give me back that picture of my mom?”

Yancy’s silence is all the answer you need.

“Yeah. Thought so.” Your eyes shut as Rex shuts the door and leaves you and Yancy alone again. “I’ve seen a lot of shit in here. He probably thinks I’ll...I don’t know, blackmail him or report his crappy operation.” You suck in a breath. It catches at the ache in your throat. “Odds that I’ll survive until the next Visitation?”

“Eagle--”

“Maybe I should start carrying a shiv around. Not like I’ve got ready access to a scalpel, like my mom did when she was an army nurse.” You are seconds away from sobbing hysterically, but you can’t stop yourself from talking even as it hurts your throat. “At least at home, I had my favorite pair of scissors when I was attacked, but there is no way I’m going to have access to any here, and those were almost as long as shears--”

“Eagle, hey--”

“That asshole was going to hang me in this cell,” you hiss, suddenly. “He was going to fake my suicide.”

Yancy winces. Then he nods.

“I...I don’t mind being here,” you admit, barely above a whisper, and not just because it still hurts to speak. “I like fixing up the new library collection, I like the connections I’ve made, I...I like that I’m not alone. Felt like I was always alone before, even with Mom and Damien…” You laugh in disbelief and give a groan of pain a moment later. “But, and I can’t believe I’m saying this...I’m not ready to die yet. Funny, considering I think I’ve been ready for most of my life, but...not like this. Not for someone else’s greed.” Your arms wrap around your waist, as if you can keep your molecules from flying apart in a fit of panic. “I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s fine, Eagle.” Yancy slides closer to you, puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’ve got a plan.”

You finally make direct eye contact with him, for the first time since your fistfight. He looks determined and intense. “Does this plan involve bundling me away into Solitary?”

“I’ll tell youse about it later,” Yancy squeezes your shoulder and you’re astonished by the comfort drumming through you at the gesture. “You need some sleep.”

Your laugh is disbelieving again. “I don’t think I can fall asleep tonight, Yancy. I keep feeling that damn pillowcase around my neck.”

Yancy is silent for a moment. He clears his throat. “Youse, uh...youse want me to stay up? With you?”

Your body starts to tremble in earnest. You drop your head into Yancy’s shoulder, wrap your shaking arms around his waist, and finally let yourself sob quietly. If Yancy is at all uncomfortable or disgusted by this turn of events, he doesn’t make any indication of it. He’s stiff for mere seconds before one of his arms goes around you and pats at your arm in an awkward staccato. 

(Dimly, you wonder when was the last time this man properly hugged anyone, or when he was last hugged himself. You’ve gone almost a month now without physical affection from your mom or Damien and the skin hunger is hitting you particularly hard now.)

You don’t remember falling asleep. You just remember feeling safe, calm, utterly exhausted, and listening to feeling the beat of Yancy’s pulse as your head drops into the crook of his neck.

---

Link to Chapter 5 !

Thank you for reading! Please reblog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

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[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Zuisouroku Omokage-ge hana Animate Drama Translation

Last post of the month, but instead of my usual message, I figured I should change it due to current circumstances.... So. If you are able, please consider donating to your local food banks, the Red Cross or other charities who are supporting those affected by Covid-19. Alternatively, consider donating blood (including this since I saw this on CBC and from the Canadian Blood Services and they both mentioned potential shortages), tipping those who deliver your food/take out delivery (every dollar counts to some of these people - I would know since I’m unemployed right now cuz of what’s going on but will able to get by. huzzah for the Canadian government!), or support other content creators, writers, translators and artists who need help if possible. 

Also make sure you wash your hands for 20 seconds, avoid touching your face, cough into your sleeve/elbow, practice social distancing and refrain from going out if possible.... and please, please do not go singling out a certain ethnicity for how things are right now. I have a second cousin who works in a hospital down in california, and another living in new york right now.... and the last thing they need is racism and harassment. 

Anyway. I’m finally done with this drama. not really fond of putting things all together since that means i need to translate more hakuoki content for another week (i prefer to do less lol), but i’ve made an exception to this as the audio was supplied to me earlier by Aysha (which is also why i had this drama jump the queue lol). Edits will be done when I get to my subtitle video.

do not repost elsewhere. also thank you to @jokertrap-ran​ for helping me with 2 sentences that i just couldn’t figure out the Chinese for (they’re the ones left in bold), and thank you again to Aysha for supplying the audio. 

Videos are now here 

Track 1: https://youtu.be/ETTfJHCKOkk

Track 2: https://youtu.be/Nnp0mE_DLmw

enjoy?

Hakuoki Zuisouroku Omokage-ge hana Animate Drama CD Shimabara After story

Track 1

Translation by KumoriYami

Harada: Okay! Well now that this Shimabara incident is over, let's take the opportunity to drink! Everyone don't hold back [says: be modest], we aren't going home until we're drunk/unless we get drunk!

Okita: Arresting/Catching so many ronin, Kondou-san was also very happy! He also said that the spies hiding here were also arrested by the Shinsengumi.

Saito: However it seems that the Vice-Commander was a little anxious/upset. Because of the investigation of the spies, [news of it] has already spread throughout Shimabara. Tonight's festivities, although it was approved by the vice-commander, he  however said that we need to conduct ourselves with dignity [behave appropriately]

Souji: Yes/indeed. Then let's order some expensive food! Excuse me, please start with your most expensive wine in the store served with similar dishes!

Saito: Wait a moment! Why are you doing the opposite! The vice-commander clearly said, that we should be holding a meeting to reflect upon ourselves, and should not be celebrating by drinking.....

Souji: Eh, I can't hear anything!

Harada: heisuke, what's wrong? You haven't said anything from the start. Are you still brooding over what happened?

Heisuke: Wha....what do you mean by brooding? Sano-san. Don't say things that don't make sense/something strange.

Souji: What what? What are you brooding over/what's the matter?

Harada: Ah, so it's like this......

Heisue: Hey, I told you not to say anything unnecessary!

Harada: Ah, sorry. can't you just say it?

Souji: Are you keeping a secret from us?  That's really annoying [unpleasant].

Heisuke: Since it's only a small matter, I haven't said anything.

Souji: In that case just enjoy yourself to the fullest. Thanks to her dressing up as a geisha, she was able to infiltrate Shimabara to obtain information, and we were able to catch all those roshi at once.

Heisuke: But.... I din't want to have her dressed up like that..... [force?]

Souji: Areh?

Heisuke:.......What.

Souji: Hm~? it turns out/so that's what it was, it was that thing.

Heisuke: Don't smile like that! 

Souji: How annoying, my usual expression is like this.

Heisuke: Liar! Whenever Souji shows this kind of expression, you're definitely not thinking of anything good!

Souji: Actually/In fact you don't need to feel embarrassed, could it be that Heisuke didn't think that she looked lovely dressed as a geisha?

Harada: [it's?] Because she was originally a beauty [from the start she's already beautiful]

Souji: That response is really straight to the point/direct.   Compared to Heisuke who felt embarrassed/shy because of how cute she looked dressed as a geisha, the reactions of everyone else was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Heisuke: Why am I being dragged into his! I only that because she's not a member of the troopi, that she shouldn't be taking on such a dangerous assignment, that's all......

Harada: For the purpose of keeping her out of danger, weren't we on standby in the corner room?? You were great, shouting "that's not good," [and] "I can't stand this" or something, and rushed outside.

Heisuke: Why are you telling the truth!!! Anyway shut up and stop talking you idiot!

Harada: Whoops, i'm really sorry.  

Souji: Eh..... so that's it. I didn't expect that.

Heisuke: No, that's not [it]......!s

Saito (whispering): Actually/In fact I can understand Heisuke's thoughts...... at the time I was also deeply fascinated [entranced/captivated] by how she was dressed.

Souji: Hajime-kun?

Saito: Ah...Uh, sorry, i'ts nothing...Well, I did just say it...

Souji: Well, I can hear you very well. It turns out that even Hajime-kun was also deeply fascinated by her dress [check if says kimono. also rephrase later].

Saito : !!!! I, I didn't mean [it like?] that! Just, just because I was unfamiliar with how she dressed, doesn't mean that I was attracted [to it? her?]....... [rephrase later]

Souji: In other words, you admit that you're attracted to her?

Saito: No....... In any case I am also a captain in the Shinsengumi so how could I think of something so shameless when I am carrying out my duties! Anyhow, where is she? It seems that she hasn't arrived here yet......

Harada: Hijikata-san and Shinpachi should be bringing her over soon.

(the sound of footsteps and a door sliding open)

???: I just saw her a moment ago being questioned at the entrance of Shimabara. And together with Hijikata.

Heisuke: You are.... Kazama?! (reaches for sword)

Kazama: Put away your sword. I'm in a good mood today, and have no reason to fight you.

Souji: What does your so-called good mood mean/what do you mean by good mood?

Kazama: That goes without saying. Of course it's because I saw my wife's beautiful dress [appearance]. As expect, my eyes did not make a mistake [were not wrong].

Saito: Yukimura is not your wife. Her attitude towards you has been blatant/explicit.

Kazama: I've heard that woman who grow up in Edo are very strong. Even if she fell in love with me, she wouldn't show it.

Souji: Where does your self-confidence come from?

Harada: Go back to that [going back to what you said before], Chizuru's being interrogated?! Did someone discover her identity as a woman......

Kazama: It's because of the elopement incident that Hijikata caused which seems to have [caused her to be] been noticed [rephrase later].

Souji: Eh~ I just heard some extraordinary gossip [interesting]. It turns out that Hijikata-san already had such a reputation at Shimabara/Hijikata-san's reputation has spread to such an extent at Shimabara.

Harada: Oi, Souji. For the sake of safety/To be on the safe side, don't speak of this/go around spreading this to the other team members......

Souji: How hateful/annoying, I won't speak of such nonsense. But in the event that someone asks me if the Vice-Commander is or isn't with a geisha from Shimabara, I won't hide anything/speak without holding back.

Kazama: Alright [Very well... or something cuz its kazama], [let's] start drinking. The depressed guy over there, hurry up and prepare sake for me.

Heisuke: Oi! Why are you sneaking into our party?!

(After a while......)

Heisuke (sounds drunk for the rest of this track): Speaking of which.... I was against this plan from the very beginning!

Saito:......Heisuke, did you drink too much? Your eyes are starting to droop [lose focus].

Heisuke: Teach me how to not drink so much!

Saito: Why are you so upset?

Heisuke: I'm super pissed!!! For a covert investigation, we actually didn't need to use her, as long as we paid a geisha to assist us, but she was abruptly dragged down into this by us.

Saito: Your way of thinking isn't understandable, but it was also her who took the initiative to help us, [so] your criticisms are a little too much. [check audio to hear if this sounds like multiple sentences]

Harada: That's right.  Based on the outcome, nothing big happened, [which] this isn't bad.

Souji: Seeing how cute she was dressed, Heisuke was definitely/obviously very happy.

Heisuke: You smiling demon [???]!!! Compared to those clothes, the clothes of an ordinary woman clearly suit her more [rephrase later]!!

Harada: maybe, I'd also like her to see her dressed like an ordinary woman.

Heisuke: Hey......Sano-san, I've wanted to ask you.... She.... what is she to you?

Harada: Hm? I don't really think much of it but, is something the matter? Why do you ask? [i’ll reword ^ later when i get to the drama]

heisuke: I feel that Sano-san.... your attitude, rather than a comrade, you treat her more as a woman.

Harada: That's the [your?] problem. Although she's usually dressed in men's clothes, she's still genuinely a woman. It's only natural to treat her as a woman/Of course she still has to be treated as a woman.

Heisuke: [That's/so] Too sly/cunning......!

Souji: If Heisuke wants to treat her as a girl, he should be honest and say so and not be secretive about it..

Kazama: (setting down a glass) Toudou...... could it be that you have ill intentions towards my wife [TL is more or less evil thoughts/desire lol]? First take a look in a mirror [Look at yourself in the mirror first].

Heisuke: Shut up! You're the last one to be teaching me anything [last one who she be saying anything] ! She hates you the most out of all of us!!!

Kazama: I remember what I said just now [Remember what I said just now], Edo women, even if they fall in love, they will not express their true thoughts.

Saito:......I think it'd be nice if Heisuke could have a face as thick as Kazama's [if Heisuke could be as thick-headed as Kazama.... probably? or if Heisuke could have a face that had a fraction of Kazama's thickness]

Heisuke: Hajime-kun where the hell did your arm go?!

Souji: Don't first talk about Heisuke, what about yourself Hajime-kun [rephrase later]? Are you confident enough to defeat a crowd of rivals in love while surrounded and at her side?

Saito:......What are you talking about! The team has rules that ban personal fights!

Souji: That is to say, if it's not a personal fight, we're allowed to fight until one of us is dead/you'd fight to the death?

Saito:.....Why must you twist other people's words to this degree/extent!

Kazama: You bastard...... it seems that I'll have to force the truth from your mouth. Oi, Toudou. bring out the strongest sake in the store! I'm going to expose what his sincere thoughts he has [will have the truth forced from this man].

Heisuke: Why are you ordering me around!? Wait a moment/Hold on...... this is for getting Hajime-kun drunk so he'll tell the truth...... Yosh! I'm going to get/grab it at once/immediately!

(Heisuke gets up and runs out)

Saito: Wait!  It doesn't matter that you guys are already drunk, but I cannot get drunk [now]......

Souji: (pours sake) Don't say that, let's drink without holding back! These opportunities are hard to come by!

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

Track 2

Hijikata: It was pointed out that Yukimura looked a lot like the geisha who eloped the other day...... It look a while/lot of time to settle that mater.

(door opens)

Hijikata: I've made you wait for a long time! Sorry, I sent Yukimura back first with Shinpachi to headquarters......Eh, what's going on?!

Souji: Ah. Hijikata-san, you're really late.

Hijikata: You're the one that's late! Harada and Heisuke are completely drunk!

Kazama: What are you saying/talking about. It's your fault that you're always so slow.

Hijikata: Kazama! You bastard why are you here?!

Kazama: Don't mention that, why haven't you brought my wife?

Hijikata: Who's your wife! It's because she got upset from being interrogated, she first went back to headquarters.......Geez, this isn't the time to be getting involved with that guy. You guys! Stand up! Didn't I warn you guys about conducting yourself properly!?

Harada: Ah! If it isn't Hijikata-san! Now that Hijikata-san is here, we need to start from the begining! If you ask me about when I got this scar on my stomach......

Hijikata: I've said it many times [but] I've heard already heard your [that] story before.

Heisuke: Hijikata-san! I wanna ask you...... were you really planning on eloping with her/is it true that you were really going to elope with her?

Hijikata: Ha?! Where the hell did you hear that from? At best, that's a misunderstanding since I'd never do something like that!

Souji: Eh? Is that really true?  I thought that Hijikata-san wasn't the kind of person who would do something that could cause people to misunderstand in this way/who would ever do something so misleading. [or just misleading]

Heisuke: Then it's true! Hijikata-san used his position as vice-commander to elope with her, this method is too despicable!

Hijikata: Didn't I say, that I didn't do any of that! Can't you understand [Why can't you understand that]!

Saito: Exactly. If the Vice-Commander wanted to take Yukimura, he would not employ such callow and clumsy tricks, rather he would adopt a more complex and sophisticated course of action [tactics...?].

Hijikata:......Oi, Saito, are you trying to protect me or kill me? Give me a clear-cut position [clear answer]!

Saito: What are you saying. I will always be on the vice-commander's side. [literally: i will forever stand with/at the vice-commander's side whenever]

Hijikata: It's great that your on my side......

Souji: Right now it's pointless to say anything to Hajime-kun. Because regardless of what you say to hajime-kun, his expression won't change even though he's actually already completely drunk.

Hijikata: to actually like to say this kind of things, anyway it's you guys' fault that he's [this?] drunk!

Kazama: You came at just the right time (pours wine). Hijikata. Answer me. What kind of intentions do you have towards my wife who you have confined to your headquarters?

Hijikata: What kind of intentions [what do you mean by intentions]? Why should I answer you?

Souji: Isn't there a reason? Hijikata-san has said himself that he likes women from Edo.

Kazama: What? Then it's true.......

Hijikata: What "it's true" nonsense ! Souji! Quit always saying such misleading things!

Heisuke: Ah~ so it's like that, Hijikata-san's aiming for her too? Despite how he was so strict over a mere mistake! 

Hijikata: I'm telling you, I wasn't planning on doing that......!

Harada: But to secretly protect her......

Hijiakta hey wait! When did I do that!

Kazama: I see. So it was like that. (picks up sword) Hijikata..... even if it costs me all of my pride and dignity/honour, I will have you buried here today/I will kill you today!

Hijikata: don't misunderstand me [don't misunderstand/quit misunderstanding]! She was allowed to stay at headquarters for the sake of/for the purpose finding Kodo-san, because of that, she was given the identity of a page.......

Souji: But don't you call her every few days to your room to have her make you tea? A lone man and a woman in a room, in the end, who knows what might have happened~ [between them?] [depending on the audio i'll make thr second sentence longer/shorter]

Kazama: What.... [very] good/great Hijikata, to go as far as to use/to actually make use of your position to do this sort of thing!! I will not spare you! this opportunity just arrived [this is a golden opportunity/the perfect chance?]! We'll settle this over wine/drinking!

Hijikata: HA?! why did this happen?!

Heisuke DAMN IT~~~~!!!! it turns out that Hijikata-san is a rival (in love)————！！！！ Oi, Kazama! We have a temporary alliance! Hijikata-san! We're going to drink to decide this!

Saito: The Vice-commander and Yukimura....!? Ah.... What is the truth to this emotion buried deep within my heart [what is the meaning to this emotion buried deep within my heart]? Without drinking, I can't calm/dispel my resentment!!

Harada: Although it is important to respect that her personal opinions...... if we're using wine to determine a victor, I will accept this challenge!

Hijikata: I didn't say any of that, you're getting it all wrong!!! You guys, listen to me!

【END】

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

image swiped from suruga-ya...  i will definitely be rephrasing most of the 2nd half of track 2 for more... conversational word sense. couldn't think of how to make things sound natural when i posted this but i'll get that done along with all the necessary editing later when i get to making my srt file for this drama.... aiming to have the subtitles done for next month (currently working on the files now). 

also, next month im planning on mostly ssl game content... and to have the remainder of all Zuisouroku game content posted in may... (i now officially have enough tl+imags posts queued til the end of may).

stay safe ppl!

(p.s. in case you didn’t see my psa, i’m sharing a number of hakuoki vids and art books. full list is on my tumblr page “stuff i have”)

[et-lesailes]

foreign

pairing: ari levinson (chris evans in red sea diving resort, 2019) x reader

themes: light angst, fluff

word count: 2100

summary: you are visiting family in the capital of sudan, and while shopping in the marketplace for groceries, you are approached by a group of intimidating men and women around the same age as you. they are beginning to harass you more and more until thankfully, a handsome man comes to your rescue, even offering to stay with you while you finish up your shopping.

taglist: @viarogers, @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @chalamet-evans, @world-of-losers, @songforhema

note: requested by anonymous // this was really cool to write in that it was nice to touch a little on more social issues! tbh i used my own experiences with my ethnicity and traveling for this fic, so that was pretty reflective for me to incorporate. hope you guys enjoy this!

** please send an ask if you would like to be added to my taglist of any chris evans related fics!

You looked around the semi crowded food market  somewhat nervously, now regretting that you didn’t ask your brother to come with you. You hated feeling this way in your own native country, but as a half Sudanese, half Caucasian female, you stuck out in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan and where your father’s parents resided. Having been born and raised in the United States, it was easy for you to forget that the simple act of grocery shopping was, unfortunately, not so simple here. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, both men and women alike-- staring at your outfit that practically screamed you were American, either giving you judgmental glances or… creepy ones. 

You tried to focus on the kinder citizens around you, relieved that at least some were giving you welcoming smiles; all you had to do was buy some fresh vegetables for dinner and walk back to your grandparents’ house-- it was practically right across the street. You’d be okay. Making your way to one of the stands, you smiled as you gazed upon the variety of produce before you, using the opportunity to actually take in the culture surrounding you. You genuinely appreciated your background and ethnicity, and you loved having the privilege of visiting the country your own father grew up in.  

Unfortunately, you were soon brought out of your reverie, interrupted by a small group hovering a little too close to you. You tried to believe they were simply checking out the fruits and vegetables before you, but you soon started to realize it was you they were checking out. Barely turning your head to try and sneak a more proper glance at them, you were slightly shocked to see that there were also a couple of girls within the small horde of twenty something year old men staring you down. Why weren’t they saying anything? Their amused smirks sickened you; did they support this unnecessary ogling? Feeling unsettled, you moved to a different stand, silently praying they wouldn’t follow. When they did, you felt yourself internally panicking. You started focusing on the potatoes in front of you a little too intently, hoping that they’d decide you were far too boring and not worth their time. Instead, you felt a rough hand squeeze your waist in an attempt to get your attention, your eyes immediately widening. “Hey!” you exclaimed, turning around now met face to face with one of the men, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Don’t touch me…”

"What's wrong? You don't want to get your pretty clothes dirty by our filthy hands?" one of the girls jeered at you, and you looked at her shocked, slowly shaking your head incredulously. "No, I'd just rather not be grabbed by a stranger," you couldn't help but defend yourself; you were scared, but you would still stand up for yourself, and you at least felt a little better that you were in a public place. "Oh come on," the other girl scoffed, "we know your type. You think you're better than us. It's written all over your face."

"Now, now," the same man who grabbed you chuckled lowly before you could even reply, "be a little nicer to the little tourist, girls. She's cute, so I definitely have no issues with her." You frowned and stepped away from him, glaring at all of them trying to look as fearless as possible. "I'm really not interested, and my family lives right across the street, so please leave me alone." The girl laughed, only firing in return, "Oh, are you going to cry to Mommy and Daddy? Come on, a little foreigner like you doesn't know how to have some fun? So boring." You narrowed your eyes slightly, starting to get more heated until one of the other boys came up to you from behind, grabbing your waist and pulling you to his body. "That's okay, we can teach her." He spoke with a devious tone, and your anger slipped off your face, fading into an expression of more anxiety upon feeling his hands hold you so tightly. "Stop it! Let go of me!" you tried speaking loudly in order to catch the attention of other market goers, but your voice was drowned out by the music, your presence barely noticeable amongst the bustling crowds too focused on their shopping needs. You were about to have a full on panic attack as the man started pulling you along with him, but you suddenly felt him stumble backwards with a somewhat violent jerk, almost falling down along with him-- until a pair of arms caught you, helping you straighten back up.

"Hey! You heard her, leave her the fuck alone!" You looked up with slightly wide eyes, seeing an older man with somewhat shaggy brown hair accompanied with a rather scruffy beard. He was staring down the group of delinquents with stern eyes, somewhat reminding you of the demeanor of a disappointed and upset dad. "Get out of here, all of you. This is a marketplace for God's sake, there are children here-- have some class." You exhaled in relief as the group gave both of you one last scowl before turning around and walking away, grumbling under their breaths what you were sure were countless obscenities and curses aimed towards you. Returning your attention to your savior, you gave him a small smile, though somewhat cautious-- your brain was on alert mode now, making you slightly paranoid that he may have only saved you to have you for himself. However, a mere few more seconds of looking at him told your instinct otherwise, seeing the concern and even gentleness in his sharp eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked you, turning to face you properly, and you nodded your head only just now realizing your heart was racing. "Yeah, just a little shaken up," you admitted, taking a deep breath but giving him a more thankful smile. "Thank you. So much. I-- I'm not used to being here, if you couldn't tell." You could not help but be interested by him; he did not appear to be Sudanese, given his light colored skin, but considering you did not exactly look neither African nor Caucasian, you could not assume. 

He chuckled lowly, running a hand through his hair. "No worries. It can be difficult the first time here." He looked at you for a few moments, almost as if thinking deeply, before holding his hand out. "I'm Ari. If you want me to accompany you while you're shopping here, I'd be more than happy to." You couldn't help but feel slightly touched at his kind offer, immediately nodding hopefully as you placed your hand in his and introduced yourself. "I would really like that, actually. Thank you..." 

_____________________________

How this man named Ari Levinson had gone from saving you from borderline sexual harassment at a marketplace to sitting at the dining table of your grandparents' home, you had no idea, but you could not say you were displeased with this. He had showed you all types of foods you had never even heard of before, resulting in him helping you carry said foods you couldn't help but buy, resulting in your naturally hospitable grandparents immediately inviting him to stay for dinner. As you all ate dinner together, you learned he was in Sudan for work, though he was rather vague when it came to explaining what it was that he did. However, you did not miss the discreet look he gave you, somehow understanding that he was silently telling you he would explain later. Overall, he was fun to talk to, and he had several interesting stories about all the places he had traveled to-- you could tell your family was impressed, as well, and even your generally overprotective brother had to admit he liked the guy, especially because of what he had done at the market. 

Dinner was soon over and you knew Ari would have to get back to his hotel; you were sad to see him go, but you supposed you couldn't have expected the two of you to be permanent friends after one encounter in a country thousands of miles away from your own. "I'll walk you out," you told him as you forced a smile, waiting until he and your family were done with their goodbyes before heading out the door with him. "Thanks again for everything," you spoke softly, looking up into his blue hues with a more genuine smile, barely nibbling on your lip. "This was a lot of fun tonight." He smiled down at you, and while you had taken into account hours ago that he was quite attractive, he looked even more handsome under the moonlit sky, the twinkle in his eyes even more illuminated than before. "Thank you for having me. Your family is so kind," he replied before sighing softly, looking around then bringing his attention back to you. "About earlier... I can't tell too many people-- hell, I actually wasn't even supposed to tell you my real name. But I couldn't help myself. You just seem trustworthy. I dunno, call it a gut instinct kinda thing." You looked at him in surprise, now wondering if you had somehow befriended a criminal on the run, a prison escapee-- your thoughts were getting ahead of you and this was apparently written all over your face as he let out a little scoff of amusement. "Easy there, I'm not dangerous. Well, not to you, anyways," he said with a playful wink, and you hated yourself for blushing. "Okay, then what is it? Should I even trust that Ari Levinson is your real name?" you teased, partly in an attempt to distract him from seeing the red on your cheeks. It didn't seem to work, however, as he suddenly reached down to caress your cheek, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "It is. I can't really bring myself to lie to you, for some damn reason, when lying is basically a part of my job." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, "I'm an agent. I'm here in Sudan on a mission I unfortunately really can't go into detail on, and I came to Khartoum for a couple nights to get more supplies for said mission." Your face must have been amusing to him because he suddenly laughed, stroking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do you think I'm making all of this up? I swear, I'm not... I can show you my ba-"

"No, no," you quickly cut him off; sure, showing you his badge would have only taken two seconds, but you felt a strange, overwhelming sense of trust for this man you had met only hours ago, and you wanted him to know that. "I believe you. I promise. I just..." you trailed off, somewhat shy to keep going, but upon seeing his expectant look, you did. "I'm going to miss you. I really liked spending time with you today. I-- I don't know, it's so weird but I just feel like I've known you for years." He was listening to you intently, a smile crossing his lips as he stepped closer to you. "You don't have to miss me," he murmured, cocking his head, "Do you have your phone on you? Mine died." You blinked and shook your head, frowning. "I left it inside, let me go--"

"No. I don't want you to leave." He cut you off, not even realizing the blush that had returned on your cheeks because of his words because he was too occupied looking around for something. Grinning, he suddenly picking up a stick and walking over to a nearby patch of dirt. Scratching a series of numbers into it, he looked to you with a charming smile, arching an eyebrow. "Better get your phone and save that fast, doll, before the wind or some animal messes it up. But first." He came back over to you, suddenly taking your waist in his large hands and pulling you to his body, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. You kissed him back happily, smiling against his lips while wrapping your arms around his neck; you were more than ready to take it further, your mind too hazy to even realize you were standing outside your grandparents' home, for God's sake-- until he suddenly pulled back, the same mischievous grin on his face. "I'll come see you tomorrow before I leave, pretty girl. We can continue this then. Until then, you better dream of me tonight." He gave you another rough but brief kiss, then moved his lips to your forehead in a more tender peck before walking off, leaving you speechless, breathless, frustrated, yet ecstatic at the same time.

[jennymanrique]

Contra-Vax

Vaccines to the rescue? Only if people roll up their sleeves. Photo courtesy of Valleywise Health

Science moved at unprecedented speed to develop vaccines against the new coronavirus. It was too fast for some latinos -- especially those egged on by myth and misinformation 

On the ranch where Gabriela Navarrete was raised in the northern Mexican state of Chihuahua, she learned early on that the land could provide what she needed to cure her ills. Mesquite bark, olive oil, corn vinegar and baking soda were useful for treating everything from joint pains to throat infections. In case of indigestion, the medicine was a good old stomach rub.

Navarrete, 69, passed on to her three daughters and one son the lesson that "everything natural is what is good for the body."

So when the COVID-19 pandemic began, she quickly stocked up on Vitamin C, infusions of ginger, chamomile and peppermint, and linden tea for sleeping.

And while this arsenal failed to defend her against the coronavirus last year, she remains resolute: Her principle of "consuming everything natural," she said, is more powerful than the idea of getting vaccinated.

That's why she’s decided that the new COVID vaccines are not for her.

"Getting the vaccine is going to be very bad for me because I think they are made from the virus itself," Navarrete said, talking from her home in Anthony, New Mexico, a small town on the border with Texas. "The only time I got the flu shot, I got a lot worse and I don't want to do that to my body anymore."

Graciela Navarrete and her grandson, Diego.

The coronavirus reached Navarrete’s family through her 17-year-old daughter, an athlete who resumed volleyball practice once the school gym was opened after the lockdown. Everyone avoided hospitalization. They were treated by the family doctor with antibiotics, ibuprofen and albuterol in inhalers.

"The virus gave me very bad headaches and I still struggle when walking, so I accepted the medicines. But I am definitely not getting vaccinated."

Like others her age, Navarette is at a higher risk of infection. Yet that’s not enough for her or her children to discount messages they’ve gotten via WhatsApp, complete with videos, that claim, for example, that vaccines are made with tissues of aborted fetuses.

Doubts and fears 

Nationwide, people across demographic lines have lingering doubts about the new COVID-19 vaccines, according to a new survey by the Monmouth University Polling Institute.

Half of the survey respondents said they plan to get vaccinated as soon as they’re allowed to. But 19% say they want to first see how others react to the inoculations, while 24% say they will avoid the vaccine if they can.

Among Latinos, according to recent data from the COVID-19 vaccine monitor launched by the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) to track attitudes and experiences with the vaccines, 18% of adults said they will definitely not get the vaccine. Another 11% said they will only do so if it’s required by employers. And, among those who have decided that they will get vaccinated, 43% said they want to wait and see how the innoculations affect other Latinos.

According to the United States Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Latinos are nearly twice as likely to be infected by COVID-19 as non-Latino whites. The same population is more than four times as likely to be hospitalized and almost three times as likely to die of the virus. This is due, partly, to the large number of Latinos working in essential jobs that expose them to co-workers and the public. Other factors, like access to health care, also play a role.

Despite the higher risk, some Latinos remain uncertain about the safety of the new coronavirus vaccines.

An example: Navarrete in Texas, said she believes the myth that vaccines carry bits of an actual virus.

"There are other vaccines that have virus particles, including live virus particles," said Gerardo Capo, chief of hematology at Trinitas Comprehensive Cancer Center in New Jersey. "This vaccine is more modern. It has internal proteins of the virus that are not considered to cause an infection. It is impossible."

Vaccine hesitancy among Latinos in the U.S. is not necessarily an ideological issue or a belief in the anti-vaccine movement. "It has more to do with not having enough information or having inadequate information," said Nelly Salgado de Snyder, a researcher with  the University of Texas at Austin.

Doubts exist even among Latino health care professionals.

Ada Linares, a nurse in the New York area, told palabra. that it’s not the suspicious messaging seen on social media or via WhatsApp texts, but her own unfamiliarity with this vaccine -- how it was developed and potential side effects perhaps overlooked in testing and trials that moved at unprecedented speed.

“I have always been pro-vaccine, and I think this is why we are here today,” she said. “But at the same time, I don’t know much about (the vaccines).”

Nurse Ada Linares hesitated for some time but she eventually rolled up her scrubs and took her doses. Photo: Jorge Melchor

Avoiding the needle 

In Texas, officials started by vaccinating health care workers, residents of nursing homes and some people older than 65 years.

Throughout the state, according to the KFF monitor, only 15% of vaccines have reached Hispanics, even though Latinos account for almost 40% of the population, 44% of coronavirus cases and almost half of COVID-19 deaths.

"We need to focus on equity as part of the COVID-19 vaccination effort," said Samantha Artiga, director of KFF's racial equity and health policy program. "It is important to monitor data by race and ethnicity to understand the experiences of the communities ... , who is receiving the vaccines, and who has been the most affected by the pandemic."

But it’s more than just reluctance. Studies into low flu vaccination rates among low-income Latino seniors show that being uninsured -- and even the lack of transportation to get to vaccination centers -- are huge barriers.  

Experts suggest that no-cost COVID-19 vaccines, available to everyone regardless of health insurance or immigration status, could help close the gap, “if the information is available in linguistically appropriate materials and the concerns of people are clearly addressed. Immigrant families should be assured that their medical data is private and will not be used by federal agencies,” Artiga said.

Conspiracy theories

In addition to debunked conspiracy theories that Pfizer and Moderna vaccines can alter DNA, or contain microchips implanted by Bill Gates to monitor people with 5G technology, other rumors specific to the Latino community have spread through social media.

“The viral disinformation includes anonymous voice messages on WhatsApp that say that since Trump does not like Mexicans and built the wall, he wants to vaccinate us so we cannot have more children, or that the vaccine is a poison for those of us who are here undocumented, that it is a way to get rid of us,” Salgado de Snyder said.

Photo illustration by FrankHH/Shutterstock

She suggested one possible reason such disinformation is embraced: “People believe it because they don't have the level of education or the institutional support to confirm this information that they hear from other Latinos. Many of them do not speak English and most of the scientific information is not available in Spanish,” she said.

Salgado de Snyder is the co-author of the study, “Exploring Why Adult Mexican Males Do Not Get Vaccinated: Implications for COVID-19 Preventive Actions,” conducted by the Migrant Clinicians Network and published last September.

Data was collected in 2019 at the Ventanilla de Salud at the Mexican Consulate in Austin. Before the pandemic, the clinic offered free vaccines against maladies like influenza, tetanus, hepatitis A and B, and human papilloma, in association with Austin Public Health.

Some 400 patients gave researchers a variety of reasons for not getting vaccinated, including lack of time or money, fear of injections and of potential side effects, insufficient information or motivation, and the perception that they are  healthy and don’t need inoculation.

"While women are more familiar with the health system because in Mexico there is a universal voluntary and free vaccination program, men have the mistaken belief that vaccines are the cure for a problem, they do not see (a vaccination) as a preventive tool," Salgado de Snyder said.

“As breadwinners, they do not want to miss a day of work to go to get vaccinated,” she added. “That is why our recommendations in times of COVID are that through some type of mobile clinic, employers offer vaccines in workplaces such as construction companies or meatpacking plants,” she said.

Moving too fast

María del Rosario Cadena remembers that during her childhood in Tampico, in Mexico’s Tamaulipas state, she received vaccines against hepatitis and polio without any side effects. But she is "very suspicious" about the COVID-19 vaccines that seem to have been developed and approved so quickly.

"I've seen on TV that it affects various parts of the body and people get very sick after receiving it," del Rosario Cadena said.

Maria del Rosario Cadena

Apart from her doubts about the vaccine, del Rosario Cadena insists she follows all recommendations to guard against COVID-19: She wears a mask, she practices social distancing, and she’s always washing her hands. And, since she doesn’t go out "at all," the 71-year-old said she believes that “isolation is my vaccine. I feel I don't need it."

Her daughter, Rocio Valderrabano, 55, is diabetic, so she will soon have access to a COVID-19 vaccine. But she has doubts, so she’ll wait and see how some friends -- nurses -- react to their second doses. "I know people who have had COVID and spent four days with oxygen. I know they had a very bad time ... but I still want to wait and see if there are side effects (to the vaccine)."

Clinicians said mistrust also comes from knowing there were few people of color in the vaccine trials. In the trial for the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine, participants were 13% Latino, 10% African American, 6% Asian, and 1% Native American. Moderna’s trial population was 20% Hispanic, 10% African American, 4% Asian.

"We hope that the labs that are developing new vaccines will include more Latino patients in their trials," said Dr. Lucianne Marin, a pediatrician at Los Barrios Unidos Community Clinic in Dallas, one of 75 community centers in Texas that will provide vaccines in immigrant neighborhoods.

Marin and the rest of the Barrios Unidos staff have already received both doses --  injections that caused her "a bit of discomfort, fatigue, and a headache."

“Anything strange that enters the body can cause a reaction,” she said. “But one has to understand that the vaccine is not made from the live virus. It’s from genetic material that will help to generate antibodies. … I tell my patients that a fever or a pain in the body cannot be compared with the exposure to the coronavirus.”

The community clinics are out to debunk myths and dispel fears. They emphasize the greater risk of infection for Latinos who have chronic health problems like diabetes, hypertension, and excessive weight.

In doctor’s offices or in telemedicine visits they invite grandmothers to be champions in their families and spread the message about the need to get vaccinated. “Among Latinos, the elders of the family are highly respected and they are listened to; if they are convinced (of the vaccine), the family will be too,” Marin said.

Community health workers also share messages on Facebook, or partner with local Spanish-language media on virtual discussions featuring doctors and public officials -- even representatives from consulates of Latin American countries.

“It is our job to be the reliable messenger,” Marin said. “Vaccines are safe and free.”

Originally published here

Want to read this piece in Spanish? Click here

[caspianhayes]

                            CASPIAN ALEXANDER LEVI HAYES.

FULL NAME:  Caspian Alexander Levi Hayes. NICKNAMES(S):  Cas. AGE:  28. DATE OF BIRTH:  November 20th, 1991. PLACE OF BIRTH:  Chicago, Illinois. CURRENT LOCATION:  Red Ridge, Nevada. ETHNICITY:  White. GENDER:  Cis male. PRONOUNS:  He/him/his. SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Pansexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  Panromantic. RELIGION:  Atheist, raised half Jewish, half nondenominational Christian. OCCUPATION:  Bartender at Violet. EDUCATION LEVEL:  Bachelor’s Degree in business from the University of California, Los Angeles. EXTRACURRICULAR:  Swimming, baseball. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS:  Has a studio apartment near the north side of Red Ridge, lots of windows, usually relatively messy. SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT:  Speaks smoothly & calmly, a very standard midwestern accent that’s barely noticeable. It’s very easy to listen to him speak.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM:  David Corenswet. HAIR COLOR AND STYLE:  Brown, curly, very well taken care of. It looks just as silky as it feels. Typically kept short, has grown out once in his life, and didn’t like the way it looked then. COMPLEXION:  Pale, warmer undertones. EYE COLOR:  Blue. EYESIGHT:  15/20 vision - what the average person sees from 15 feet away, Caspian can see from 20. He won’t be needing glasses anytime soon. HEIGHT:  6’3” WEIGHT:  174 lbs. BODY AND BUILD:  Muscular, but not as muscular as he used to be. He retains his biceps and pecs, but has given up on ab workouts, aside from the occasional one once in a blue moon. TATTOOS:   None, with no plans on getting any. PIERCINGS:  None, no plans on getting any. CLOTHING STYLE:  Cas’ wardrobe leans casual. Dark jeans and t-shirts are his everyday apparel. He only dresses more formal for work because he has to. When it’s cooler outside, he’ll go for a sweater before a sweatshirt. He still wears white Converse, has a beat up old leather jacket that he got in high school, and doesn’t like jewelry on his wrists or fingers.   DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS:  Almost unnaturally blue eyes, his dark curls, and a smile that lights up a room. A sniffle that’s almost always there. SIGNATURE SCENT:  Whiskey, leather, vanilla, and cashmere.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S):  Anxiety. Fear of abandonment and failure. ADHD. PHYSICAL DISORDER(S):  None. ALLERGIES:  None. SLEEPING HABITS:  Caspian has nightmares most nights. He doesn’t go to sleep until the sun starts to rise most mornings, thanks to the fact that Violet doesn’t close until well into the night and he has to stay after closing to help clean up before he goes home. It takes him a while to fall asleep,  but, once he does, he usually isn’t asleep very long. His nightmares startle him awake. It’s rare that he gets a total of six hours combined any given night. EATING HABITS:  He tries to take care of himself where he can in regards to his food. His breakfast most morning is a smoothie and some eggs, he’ll spend the extra money for organic fruits and vegetables. While he does take care of himself most of the time, there are those times where he sits down with a whole pizza and a pint of ice cream and finishes it all, though. When he’s high, he rarely eats, which is why breakfast is so important to him. SOCIABILITY:  He is an extrovert through and through. That’s part of the reason he thoroughly enjoys his time at the bar - socialization. He’s a very smooth talker and a very good listener, which is likely why people typically find it easy to trust him. The cocaine makes him even more sociable. BODY TEMPERATURE:  Naturally warmer, he gets cold very easily. That’s part of the reason he likes the desert so much. ADDICTIONS:  Cocaine. DRUG USE:  Frequently. At least once a day. ALCOHOL USE:  Semi-frequently. Likely drinks one glass of whiskey whenever he’s on shift, but otherwise rarely touches alcohol. Outside of work, when he does drink, it’s likely watching a football or baseball game.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS:  Loyal, hardworking, charming, resourceful, charismatic. NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Anxious, sly, liar, secretive, stubborn. LIKES:  Cocaine. The Chicago Cubs, dogs, cashmere sweaters, traveling, warm weather, swimming pools. DISLIKES:  The cold, rough textured clothing, grating voices, loneliness, the sound of someone chewing with their mouth open. FEARS: Abandonment, loneliness, never being good enough. Failure. Death. HABITS:  Cocaine, cutting his nails frequently, smoothies with breakfast, fiddling with a necklace or other small things. ASTROLOGY:  Scorpio sun, Taurus moon, Scorpio rising. PERSONALITY TYPE:  ESFP. MORAL ALIGNMENT:  Chaotic neutral. HOGWARTS HOUSE:  Slytherin. ELEMENT:  Water. PRIMARY VICE:  Lust. PRIMARY VIRTUE:  Diligence. WEATHER: Sunny day, no clouds in the sky. Somehow, still a chance of rain. COLOR:  White and red // light blue. MUSIC:  Doesn’t listen to much music. MOVIE:  Inglourious Basterds (2009, dir. Quentin Tarantino). SPORT:  Baseball. BEVERAGE:  Kale and banana smoothie / Arnold Palmer. FOOD:  Scrambled eggs with cheese, broccoli, cupcakes, raspberries, peaches. ANIMAL:  Dogs of all varieties. SEASON:  Late spring, early summer.

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER:  Amy Hayes. FATHER:  Stephen Hayes. SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  None. SIBLING(S):  One older sibling, 33+. CHILDREN:  None. PET(S):  None.

PROMPT.

Routine.

Who would’ve thought that Cas would end up here, of all places? Certainly not his family, certainly not anyone from his past. He doubted that anyone actually needed a business degree to bartend at the Violet, or to bartend anywhere, really. He doubted that anyone would think to find him there, which was part of the reason he enjoyed being there in the first place. That was the point of running away from the past, no? To escape it? Nights at the Violet were indulgent, and that was Caspian’s favorite part of it all.

Indulgence. Sweet indulgence. To start his shift after a hit of the best coke he could get his hands on was a feeling of near-euphoria after a morning of restlessness and anxiety. He could feel that paranoia and constant worry wash away as he walked the length of the bar, ears tuned in to everything happening around him. That was the thing about Violet; people talked. And when people talked, Caspian heard. They may have thought that he wasn’t listening, that he was just there to do his job and go home. But that wasn’t the truth. He knew about the man at the third stool and how he’d been cheating on his wife for the past three months. He knew about the woman at the seventh who owed Valencia more money than she had in her bank account, and, despite that, continued to turn to Violet every night for the comfort of a glass of gin. He knew the high-rollers with their hands dirty, knew the secrets of the civilians who simply wanted to live life without Valencia’s influence, knew those who feared Rorschach and what his arrival may mean. And it was almost as euphoric to him as the coke was. Almost.

HEADCANONS.

He grew up in the shadow of his older sibling. He always hated it - always hated never feeling good enough for his parents. No matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. Not when he made the varsity swim team and baseball team as a freshman in high school, not when he was given a swim scholarship to UCLA for college, not when he worked his ass off to get good grades despite his involvement in two sports.

The Hayes family is big in the financial planning world. If you don’t know a thing about that, you probably won’t know who they are, but his mother has been on covers of industry magazines and interviewed for finance TV shows before. She and his father co-own their own company.

He started partying in high school to try to let off some steam after games and dances. He only increased his partying in college. This was when he first tried cocaine. The partying got heavier and heavier, and, eventually, he lost his scholarship. That’s when he started bartending - he didn’t want his parents to know that he lost the scholarship, so he had to pay his own way through the rest of school. This was also when he cut contact with his family.

He likes it when people talk to him as if he was a brick wall, not absorbing any of their information. But he keeps that dirt in his brain - after all, who knows when he’s going to need it?

He was a good cook, once upon a time. Now, he doesn’t really have the incentive to be one, especially since he works through what most people would consider “dinner time”.

He’s pretty good at poker, but he’d never go into the casino to play. That’s too formal for him.

He wouldn’t refer to himself as a cocaine addict - just a man who likes cocaine. He figures he could stop at any time he wants to.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

SUPPLIER: he's got a drug addiction; he needs drugs. this is probably someone within valencia who provides him with his fix - someone he pays either with information or money.

MUTUAL DISLIKE: this person doesn't like him for whatever reason. maybe he owes them money. maybe he's made a promise he didn't keep. whatever the reason is, cas doesn't like them, either. they're greeted with distaste.

FRIENDS: obviously everyone needs friends. these people may or may not know about cas' addiction problems, and, if they do know, he still won't admit to having an addiction problem.

PAST HOOKUP: any gender ! he does have a tendency to sleep around solely for praise and validation that he feels like he's been missing in his life thus far. don't be mad if he doesn't call you back.

BOSS: this is someone in Valencia, as Violet is owned by them. Cas probably doesn't know too much about them/their involvement in the organization, they probably aren't too close because he's wary of them more than anything.

WARY: this person knows that something's going on with Cas. May or may not suspect the cocaine addiction, probably someone on the side of the law, recognizing that Caspian isn't getting by on his own.

OWED DEBT: Cas owes this person something, whether it be because they provided him with coke or because his car broke down and he needed help fixing it - whatever the reason, he's in debt, and he can't repay it yet. Valencia or not !

OLDER SIBLING: this is the big one ; see the main.

[tenderpromises]

sam claflin. male. he/him. ❝ can you hear halfway by parachute coming from apartment #406 ? that must mean caelean maddox is home. the thirty-four year old is currently a florist and they live alone. they’ve been living in the village for two months and residents have gathered the sagittarius’s empathetic yet unkept demeanor. ❞ thana. 21. she/her. pst.

Name: Caelean Maddox

Birthday: December 2 (34)

Ethnicity: Welsh

Gender: Cismale

Height: 5'11"

Tattoos + Piercings: Has a lion tattoo on the back of his right leg

Sexual orientation: Pansexual

Occupation: Temp florist

B A C K G R O U N D

✏ Born and raised in Brooklyn, Caelean had a pretty good childhood. His parents were always busy but every year, they visited Wales to see his extended family. He didn’t have much family. An aunt that taught him how to cook and his dad’s mother but she had died not long after them meeting. His mother was a florist which inspired his love for flowers while his father worked as a bookkeeper. 

✏ When Emlyn was born, he fell in love with her. He never really considered being an older brother, didn’t care much to think about it but when his little sister was put in his arms for the first time; the boy just melted and vowed to protect her at all costs. The two were thick as thieves, not attached to the hips but they didn’t go their separate ways whenever coming across each other outside their home. He was there to help take care of her and help her grow as a person. In a way, he grew too because of her. Because of her, he learned to be respectful to women (not to say he wasn’t before then) and people and their decisions.

✏ The stereotypical gentleman. He focused on school and graduated with honors all while dating sparingly. He grew up to be a romantic after watching movies courtesy of spending time with his mother and sister (who ironically enough didn’t care much for the impracticality behind romance). The first thing he buys a girl are flowers, texts them to make sure they get home okay and that he had a good time even when he didn’t.

✏ He moved to Los Angeles for college and decided to stay put. He got a steady job as a bookkeeper and enjoyed the continuity. Eventually, Emlyn had moved out there and that gave him less of a reason to leave. 

✏ He was 27 when he met Linnette Antonelli at a bar. Somehow the two had hit it off and became the best of friends, contacting each other often and grabbing a bite to eat. Suddenly, Linnette had became the one girl that he cared for besides his mother and Emlyn. Eventually he had found out that she was a daughter of an infamous mafia family in Italy but at that point, the two were already close and she had been out of the business for a while.

✏ When he quit his job in order for his co-worker to get a promotion that he didn’t even want, Linnette swooped in and asked him to become her business partner. He didn’t have an interest in planning weddings but he did like the idea in helping in some aspect. So he agreed. She would plan the weddings while he would handle the finances and promoting the business. They ended up actually working pretty well with one another and eventually it became successful beyond belief.

✏When Emlyn became an escort, he didn’t see the appeal but it was his sister’s choice so he never convinced her not to. Instead, Caelean demanded that they move in together so that he would know that she got home safe every night. He knew something was wrong when Emlyn came home with bruises though she insisted it was just some guy’s kink. He immediately dropped the subject, not needing to talk about his sister’s sex life. When she kept coming home with more and more bruises, he found out that the same guy kept coming back to her. The day she didn’t come home ruined him. He’s always been a worrier but after the concerning facts about this man, he gave zero fucks at this point. He hacked into the club’s security cameras to find the guy and tracked him down. Inside the man’s apartment lied the bruised and bloody body of his little sister. And she wasn’t breathing. 

✏ He flew into a rage and stabbed the man repeatedly until he was left begging for the mercy that he neither deserved or was granted. After an hour of crying over Emlyn’s body, he realized what he had done and had called Linnette asking for her help. She immediately came and helped him cover his tracks. Emlyn’s funeral was hard enough on the fact that she had died young but now his parents wouldn’t look at him after learning about what he had done. Once the funeral ended, his parents packed up their things and left. Though he could easily find out where they are, he hasn’t bothered.

✏ You think that would deter him but ever since then, he goes around clubs and observes his surroundings. If he ever thinks that someone is getting too handsy with someone, he steps in and puts a stop to it. However he needs to. 

✏ After losing Emlyn, he moved back to Brooklyn unable to cope. He took over his mother’s shop and has been keeping it in hopes that she’ll come back one day.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

✏ Kind ✏ Caring ✏ Supportive ✏ Friendly ✏ Empathetic ✏ Romantic ✏ Devoted ✏ Guarded ✏ Unkept ✏ Worrisome ✏ Practical ✏ Frivolous ✏ Obsessive ✏ Protective F A M I L Y

Mother: Brynna Maddox (52, status unknown)

Father: Owen Maddox (52, status unknown)

Sibling(s): Emlyn (23, deceased)

Extended family: Linnette Antonelli (honorary sister)

Pet(s): Allura (Bengal cat)

H E A D C A N O N S

✏ Caelean is a wine and dine type of guy. He doesn’t date anyone at all unless he sees the potential of them being together forever. 

✏ That being said, while he doesn’t like fucking without feelings behind it, he has done so when he’s messed up things for an escort that he’s tried to protect so they don’t lose their job because of him.

✏ Speaks Welsh

✏ Has an amazing voice but you’ll only catch him humming and singing on karaoke nights

✏ Is not a big drinker. He drinks socially but after a while gets tired of the taste that he’ll just pretend to drink it and discard it.

✏ Smokes when stressed

✏ Considers himself a cleanfreak but really it’s just an organized mess. The neatest thing about him is his closet.

✏ He knows how to cook but doesn’t do it often.

✏ Speaking of which, he hasn’t cooked for many people. Only the people he knows is going to be in his life forever.

✏ Despite barely having any friends, has a huge online presence. You can catch him on social media often.

✏ Doesn’t have a favorite color. It changes to the color of his current love’s eyes each time.

✏ He’s a morning person and a night owl. You can catch him being awake at 4am with a smile on his face and staying up until 11 just because he got caught up doing something.

✏ Hates PDA. The most he’s ever done in public is squeeze someone’s shoulder in greeting.

✏ Knows enough to hack into systems but doesn’t care to do it

✏ Moves super slowly. He’s a sweet guy but the reason he’s single is because he he takes a long time to put out.

✏ Likes to jog and box but he has no reflexes at all

✏ Writes letters to Emlyn detailing important events about his life

✏ When he’s upset, has the tendency to say things that can’t be taken back.

✏ His first sexual experience was with an escort and really she taught him that everything he knows. It was the one time that he had ever been with an escort more than once.

W A N T E D  C O N N E C T I O N S

✏ Escorts that he saved?

✏ Childhood friends

✏ Friends

✏ Anyone really

[grump-the-deer]

stuff about HDM ep 8 + overall season thoughts

in other words.....

FINALE TIME BITCHES

this episode was INCREDIBLE. A+++, perfection.

this is what I expected from the get-go, and what I got a lot of the time.

we got some great exposition + bonding double time with Asriel, some excellent portrayal of Asriel and Marisa’s relationship, plenty of dæmons being cool and adorable respectively (Pan and Salcilia running around playing anyone???), some STUNNING visuals, an epic little fight scene with the fire-hurlers and the zeppelins, some great culmination for Iorek and Lyra’s relationship, good ol’ Thorold development, some more Lyra & Roger development (ESPECIALLY the tent and end scenes - Roger’s death KILLED ME OH MY GOD) - just the perfect fuckin meal.

this was exceptional. round of applause for HDM.

(except the Will being 15 thing. what? why is he so old? he could pass for a tall 13- or 14-year-old. that makes it a little weird. I hope Lyra is supposed to be like 13 now then, idk. that’s still a pretty big difference at that age.)

I really have to wonder though - if they show they can do the above stuff perfectly, why didn’t they do it before???

the Bolvangar episode still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. this episode proves that they can make intercision horrific and emotional, and make it mean something with the dæmons interacting. Salcilia and Roger had good reactions - hell, Lyra reacting to remembering almost being separated from Pan was more emotional than the actual scene itself!! Roger’s death was HEARTBREAKING, thanks to his and his dæmon’s reactions!

they put the dæmons in enough, especially in speaking roles, that even when they weren’t around you didn’t really forget about them. I could always do with more background dæmons, but I can absolutely understand budget restraints - so long as you put them in enough. we need to feel they have an emotional impact on the characters. we need to feel like they ARE characters. not accessories.

Pan was a character in this episode. the things he says and do make an impact on the story. he was not a character in the Bolvangar episode, despite the fact that that was the MOST IMPORTANT episode for him to be around and active in.

they can do it right, but they didn’t. this series would be wonderful if they cut out that episode and reshot it and replaced it with a better take. hell, even just the intercision scene. it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would work.

so, overall:

HDM season 1 was a spectacular ride. the dæmons and bears look fantastic (when they’re actually in the shots), the voices are spot-on, the actors do a phenomenal job, and the writers actually added some interesting extra material and development.

some highlights for me are:

- Iorek and Lyra’s relationship. they got it absolutely perfect, if not better than the original. Iorek is perfectly stoic and bearlike and resolute, but Lyra earns his respect and even adoration, as best a bear can. it feels organic and has plenty of development scenes. just heartwarming.

- Lord Asriel all around. really awesome take on him, James MacAvoy loves him to pieces I can tell. he’s way better than the original, and that’s saying something. he’s got a lot more heart and I feel more connected to him despite him being a complete mad genius.

- Mrs. Coulter, for the most part. she’s got a bit of shaky characterization with Lyra towards the end - I’m not really certain of her motivations at the end - but generally she’s fascinating to watch on screen and absolutely horrible. I love her and I love Ruth Wilson as her. she’s positively uhinged. they did some really bold stuff with her character and her relationship with Lyra and I enjoyed every minute of it.

- Farder Coram ended up being great. he and Lyra are always a pleasure to watch interact. he really grew on me as soon as he started getting characterization, particularly with Serafina and the story of his son.

- the cinematography, lighting, set design, and graphics. I couldn’t ask for anything more. they went above and beyond and the framing and this world and its creatures look AMAZING. 10/10. hats off to the animation team in particular, of course.

- the acting. the acting is absolutely brilliant. particular standouts include Dafne Keen as Lyra, of course, James MacAvoy as Lord Asriel, Ruth Wilson as Mrs. Coulter, the voice of Iofur Raknison, and Farder Coram. honorable mention for Will, because he gets the character down so incredibly well.

- the respect for the source material. we’ve seen it blow up once with the Golden Compass movie, but this production obviously has every ounce of loyalty to the original. well, almost every ounce. the stuff they added ended up working very well and feeling organic to the original, and the stuff they kept, especially the verbatim lines, was delivered exceptionally. it’s clear they really care about the story they’re giving us.

- the opening credits are the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. a beautiful tribute to the magic of this series’ themes and world.

and some notably bad stuff, a couple that almost come close to ruining it for me:

- Lee Scoresby. an absolute mess. one moment he’s true to the original character and being sarcastic and selfish, and the next he’s stealing pocketwatches for funsies, yelling out his dangerous motivations in the middle of a town infested with armed Magisterium soldiers, and cooing over Lyra like she’s his flesh and blood and he got injected with Mother Hen Juice. he’s genuinely stupid. his characterization is all over the place. his “development” with Lyra is either nonexistent or rushed, and the only thing he actually does for the plot is fly the damn balloon for about 5 minutes tops. Hester is his only saving grace, and even she can’t do it all. I’m sorry Lin, I really love your work in Hamilton, but this was really disappointing. and I have to blame the writing mainly. they wouldn’t let Lin act a character, they had to shape the character around him. and the whole thing suffered for it.

- the intercision, and dæmon relationships. the Bolvangar episode wasn’t terrible overall, but it did not build up well to the intercision scene, and the episodes around it didn’t help either - especially the previous one. Billy’s death was not sad for me, because the middle of the show did not utilize dæmon relationships with their humans and dæmons as actual characters. we didn’t see them interacting enough with their people to matter consistently to us. the first couple of episodes did this bonding beautifully, even with budget restraints to how many dæmons could be in a shot, and how frequently they could come up. they showed us just enough for us to care about them and what they mean to their humans, particularly Pan and Lyra, and conveniently kept them out of frame when they weren’t necessary to the dialogue between humans.

they can do it properly, but they chose to let it fall by the wayside towards the middle, and it really shot the show in the foot. almost irreparably, I’d wager. Bolvangar, for all its masterful horror trope usage and suspense, was not nearly horrific enough nor emotional at all, thanks to the lack of buildup. we did not care about dæmons and their humans beyond knowing the humans are basically dead without them. there was no feeling behind the threat of Lyra and Pan getting split apart, other than Lyra becoming a shell. the focus was on Lyra and Mrs. Coulter’s relationship, which I don’t have a problem with - but not at the cost of Lyra and her dæmon. you know, the very FIRST line of the books? the main theme of the entire book? arguably the whole SERIES? dæmons as souls, as a person’s sense of free will and consciousness? kind of important to develop an emotional attachment to, don’t you think?

- the Gyptian leads (sans Farder Coram). Ma Costa was passable. she did a lot of crying and a lot of being desperate and pining for her son, and not a lot of kicking ass, proportionally. she didn’t come off as a strong boat mother at the center of her family with sway in her community. she came off as a wiry and lost soul who is somewhat capable but more interested in being depressed and worried. she did get to shine when she killed the Bolvangar doctor, but that wasn’t enough for me.

John Faa was boring. he was a hardass and only every so often came across as the original jovial, caring, but no-nonsense King of the Gyptians. most of the time he was just telling someone not to do something or insisting someone do something. no real personality other than being serious.

Billy Costa had no real character. a waste, considering we’re supposed to care about his death.

Tony Costa was alright. he was kind of a loser, which I guess is okay. I liked capable Tony and his gobbler-fightin’ gang from the books better though. he had a couple good moments with Lyra, and Benjamin was a good addition.

- the themes of belonging. I don’t like how they changed the message about Lyra belonging in different groups. the point isn’t that she can “be anyone she wants to be” - that’s not how real life works, or should work. she can live with the gyptians and like them, but Ma Costa in the books asserts that she can’t be a gyptian, because she’s not part of their ethnic group. a similar message was overlooked with the bears - Iorek gave her the name Silvertongue because of his deep respect for her and what she had done for him, not because she was “one of us bears” now. she isn’t a bear, she’s a human.

the point is that she doesn’t have to be something to find an emotional home with the people themselves. it’s about what she builds, surpassing what she is - which is a product of two twisted, misguided people - taking what’s given to her and making it into something beautiful of her own volition. it’s a very nuanced theme and it’s basically thrown aside in this adaptation in favor of pseudo-colorblindness theory that origins don’t matter and you can stuff yourself anywhere you please. it’s not a deal-breaking point and most people probably won’t pay attention to it, but it’s worth mentioning anyway.

-

so overall, the show was really really spectacular. a ton of fun, beautifully crafted, with a few hiccups and one major major issue. the dæmon thing gouged out a good chunk of the enjoyment for me, and the integrity of the actual story too. a huge huge blunder on Jack Thorne’s part. I’d like to say they recovered from it, because they did do a pretty great job wrapping things up, but it still lingers in the back of my mind as a big blemish on an otherwise incredible work.

I have high hopes for the future seasons though, when dæmons aren’t around as frequently and less characters are on screen, so there will be more time and budget available to be devoted to them, particularly Pan as a character. they’ve shown they can handle this material skillfully, and I have a good amount of faith in them. I can’t wait to see what else they do with the concepts I’ve come to adore so much.