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transpoettryinghisbest · 2 years

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I was going to do a headcannons post about Diego's backstory and why he became a lawyer, but I thought I'd be fun to write all my headcannons into a fic instead. Trigger warnings are in the tags.

I glanced across the sheets at Diego. He was lying on his back with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, eventually.

“You can ask me anything you want, Kitten,” he replied, without opening his eyes.

“Why did you become a lawyer?”

“It's in the family. I was pretty smart and observant, even as a kid, so I guess it was inevitable.”

“That makes sense.”

“My parents are both prosecutors. I was going to be one too, actually.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm. They're the ones that wear all the fancy outfits and make all the money, after all.”

“Don't I know it.”

He chuckled at that.

“So…what made you change your mind?” I asked.

He rolled over onto his side. “Well I watched all these prosecutors in court, studying their ways, and…they were just so antagonistic. They have to see the worst in the defendant all the time. I just couldn't imagine myself doing that.”

“Were your parents upset when you told them?”

“Nah. I'm kind of a black sheep of the family, but that's fine. A true lawyer learns to respect those on the other side of the courtroom. Prosecution is a fine occupation, it just didn't sit right with me.”

“I don't think I'd be able to prosecute either. I don't know, the thought never really crossed my mind.”

“Were you born into a family of defence attorneys or something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. My father was an accountant. But he passed away.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I was only a child, so I don't remember him much.”

“What about your mom?”

“Well…She's actually from a long line of spirit mediums.”

“Spirit mediums?”

“I don't…know if you know what that is.”

“I don't know much. Something about being in tune with dead people or something?”

“Mm.”

“And it's a family business?”

“It should've been. But I had…other things in mind. So my little sister took over the clan, she'll be the next head after our mother.”

“I didn't know you had a sister.”

“I guess I don't talk about myself very much. Her name's Maya.”

“And she's into all this…spirit stuff?”

I nodded, slightly nervous of his reaction.

“You'll have to teach me more about it sometime.” He rubbed his eyes, tiredly.

“Maybe. I know it's…not exactly favoured in the legal world.”

“I can imagine. Doesn't sound like something you'd lose your badge over, though. Unless you tried to use it in a case.”

I said nothing.

“I won't tell anyone, if that's what you mean.”

“Thank you. It’s just that…when I’ve told people in the past, not all of them have reacted like you did.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lana completely brushed it off, she doesn’t believe in it.”

I tried not to let that fact upset me. In all honesty, there were a lot of nay-sayers out there. It just felt different when it was someone I was that close to.

“She doesn’t believe anything she doesn’t see with her own eyes,” Diego said.

“You’re right. I suppose that’s what makes her such a good prosecutor.”

“So you had all this spirit stuff laid out for you, but chose a different path?”

“Basically.”

“Was there any reason? Or did you just not want to talk to ghosts your whole life?”

“I, uh…it’s a long story.” I rolled over so I was facing away from him.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to tell me?”

“It’s my way of saying…I don’t know if I want to tell you or not.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to bear your soul to me, Kitten.”

“I appreciate that.”

He scooped me up in a spoon position and drifted off to sleep, holding me close.

That was almost two years ago now. We don't sleep in that bed anymore, curled up close to each other. He's stuck on his back, in a clean, strange, hospital bed, while I sit here and watch him, begging him to move or make a noise. He no longer looks or smells like himself, but I know he's still in there.

I wish I'd told him about my mother. Even if he couldn't help, he would've understood. He would've understood me a little better.

I hope I get to tell him one day. I'll wait.

#ace attorney #ace attorney godot #ace attorney fanfiction #mia fey #diego armando #aa godot #fanfiction #fanfic #tw coma #tw hospital #tw mother mention #tw death mention #aa3 spoilers #miego

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yanaequa · 2 years

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In what ways do you relate to Woo Youngwoo and the drama? And do you think it's good autistic representation? Thanks for answering!

Hello anon, Thanks for asking! Time to talk about myself, woohoo!

First, the background.

I am 24 year old autistic woman, who got a job in my profession about a year ago. although I am not lawyer as Youngwoo, My job absolutely utilizes what I majored & learned in university, so I am using my knowledge at my full potential for my work, as Youngwoo does in her profession!

To talk about my job further, it is something close to debugging; I find out what the problem is, then test out what would be the reason of it, then figure out how to fix it. It's all about keen observation, deduction, and creativity (also organization. I suck at this so I really wish I could be like Youngwoo when I need it!); It feels like I'm solving whale quiz every time!

Next, the behavior.

I ABSOLUTELY love babbling out what I am interested as Youngwoo does (it's not fixed to one topic unlike Younwoo's fixation to whales, but I would say I am just interested in many things!), and my facial expression changes absolute joy (with tee-hee smile, according to my friend's observation) when I speak about such, I have hell of a reaction when I am surprised (I shout or flinch, or both), I hate loud noises (I can tolerate better than Youngwoo does, tho, so I don't have noise-canceling headphone, but I prefer quiet places like library or bookstore), I like running around all over places when I am excited or nervous; I speak in very considerate when I am focusing, but I slip out rude words when I am off-guard; I do "ah" when someone points out what I did not notice; I am cute and lovely as she does (joke intended, but I actually think I am!)

Also, it's bit embarrassing to say it myself, but I am really smart. in Wechler Intelligence Scale, I got 140(sd 15) in perceptual reasoning. That means, at least in that field, I am above 99.6 percentile. other section is above average, too. (I am aware that IQ is not comprehensive way to judge one's overall intelligence, but at least it means I am really good at something, I hope) I don't own a photographic memory like Youngwoo, but I am good at finding connection between things, and overall structures of how things are made up by just skimming through it, and deducing what people actually meant based on their behavior and words. It helped me so much on masking and making up lack of social intuition.

Well my friends say "man, Young-woo's behavior absolutely reminded you", so behavior-wise, I believe that we have lot of thing in common.

Now about surroundings.

I have a friend who has known me for about a decade; I met her in secondary school, she tried becoming friend as protecting & looking after me, then I helped her a lot when she had hard time. We are real besties right now, and she is super social and outgoing.

My boss has trouble figuring out how to handle me but also thinks that I'm good at my job and gives professional advice when needed. He does scold me when I am not acting professional, but also likes showing cats and accepts me as great coworker. I also have a mentor who gives an advice what action would been more appropriate for what I intended, and keep encourages me that I'm doing well. Also he warned me for loud noises before he started using air gun. I became openly autistic after EAW aired, then it became SO much easier to explain about myself & how I feel and think, and they understand my struggle & be kind to me.

I also had love interests, and recently started seeing someone; I knew him way before EAW launched, but as EAW launched, I could tell him that I am autistic, then we got close to each other as we discussed about the show. We are now seeing each other; he is like Junho to me :D EAW cleared some of the doubts I had in mind & gave the guideline to how to see a person & learn them, so I am thanking the drama a lot!

Oh and my mom is narcissistic. I love her & she loves me too. It took a long time to understand her, but I think I am getting her. I'm not sure if she understands me though, but I don't mind that much.

Hope this answers your question!

#extraordinary attorney woo #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #kdrama

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 1 year

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The Beginning Chapter 3

Summary: Those with a uterus have it hard in modern society, pre or post quirk. It’s even harder in a post-quirk society, however. Especially when the person in question has the ability to have a child who’s quirk is just like or stronger than the other parent’s. For a girl like Izumi? It only takes one nurse to diverge her path from what destiny wrote. Now, forced to make the borderline unethical work to protect her, the choices she makes will mean everything.

Warning Tags: Sexism, Quirkless discrimination, HPSC is SHADY as hell, Quirk marriages, arranged marraiges

ON AO3

Part 1 of Diverging Paths (AKA: Betrothal Verse Remix)

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For as long as she could remember, Izumi had always wanted to be a hero. She dreamed of it frequently and looked up to heroes like All Might so much that anyone who wanted to talk to her just needed to mention their names, and she would go off. As a squeaky child, she made plans to work at Kacchan’s agency; he always said he’d have one day. They would be the best heroes! He told her it was true: they’d be best friends and work together forever like his mom and dad. With her best friend by her side, she couldn’t think of anything cooler to be than a hero when she’d been four. Then came the diagnosis.

At first, things seemed okay. People acted weird when she said she wanted to be a hero, but it was okay. But it didn’t last after Kacchan fell into the river. She got worried because her mama told her she was a bad thing when you hit your head and if she and Kacchan hit their heads, tell an adult.

“Stupid Deku!” Kacchan slapped her hand away, sneering at her. Izumi could only stare in confusion. Things got worse after that. Kacchan told her, over and over again, that she couldn’t be a hero, that she should give up. Izumi didn’t understand and often cried to her mother, which didn’t help. ‘Tattle-tale Deku’ and ‘Crybaby Deku’ became the taunts that followed her. She didn’t tell her mom. She couldn’t, not when her mom got hurt after the other parents ignored her. Instead, she tried to tell the teachers. They would tell the kids to ‘not roughhouse with Izumi, she’s Quirkless,’ but they didn’t do anything. In their eyes, it wasn’t worth it. Izumi hated it. She sobbed her eyes out every day, clutching at the friendship bracelet she made with Kacchan, wishing he was there. Izumi hoped he’d be her friend again every day but never did. She cried and cried.

But no matter what came at her, she still held onto her dream. She would be a hero, no matter what, even if she had to alter it slightly.

“Mom?” Izumi said after her research binge. “When do we start looking through the offers?” The two were eating supper when Izumi asked, the girl pushing around her food in her bowl

“When you’re eleven unless you want to maybe take a look now….” Inko looked at her daughter in confusion. “Honey, what brought this on?”

“… I was in the library, and the librarians were talking about me. While listening it… clicked. I don’t get a choice. The statistics to be a hero are against me.” Izumi put her chopsticks down to wrap her arms around herself. “I walked home and then found this older couple talking about heroes and what they used to mean. It led me into a spiral researching charities. I… I want to be a hero. I want to help people.” Izumi looked up at her mom. “And I can do it that way. Even if they don’t know I did it; I’ll know I made a difference. That’s all I want.” Inko studied her daughter for a moment before she smiled.

“I’m proud of you. I’ll call our lawyer and the agency. We might be able to start the process early. I assume this is for monetary reasons?” Inko asked.

“If they’re rich or support charities already….” Izumi frowned. “It’s not selfish, right? They only want me for strong babies, after all.”

“It’s not, honey, trust me,” Inko assured her daughter. “Though the agency might demand an early decision in exchange for the release of the files.”

“Well…” Izumi hummed. “I could go through the files and narrow it down to maybe like five or six? And then I could email them and get to know them for a while?”

“Sounds good, honey,” Inko told Izumi, a giant smile on her face. “It’s about ten months until your birthday… let’s take two months for the file sorting, have an omiai of sorts after that and then wait a year for your decision?”

“Okay,” Izumi nodded, looking at her mom in relief that the woman understood Izumi’s plan. That there wasn’t any judgement for it.

She would need that help, she believed, especially as time went on.

-0-

The agency did, in fact, agree to the change to the file release and the quicker choice. Inko argued against Ito being around for any meetings, which was decided upon- a different agent instead offering to sit in on the discussions. While the agency went through the files to narrow them down, Izumi wrote down the various things she wanted from whoever she became engaged to. She even jotted down thoughts during school too.

This drew the other kids' attention, especially after Kacchan grabbed her notebook.

“What’s this, Deku?” he sneered at her, holding the notebook between two fingers as if he were handling some filthy rag.

“I’m writing down stuff for when I go through the files the agency is sending me,” Izumi said, reaching for her notebook. The blonde pulled it back, smirking as Izumi frowned at him. “Kacchan, please give it back.”

“Why bother? We all know who you’re going to pick- not like you got that many offers.” Kacchan scoffed. Giggles around them made Izumi look around, the looks on the other kids' faces making her gut churn. “You’re just a Quirkless weakling.” Kacchan sneered.

“They actually have to downsize to three hundred,” Izumi said loudly. That stopped the laughter. Kacchan looked shocked enough that Izumi could snatch her notebook out of his hand and leave. He didn’t chase after her, so Izumi felt safe enough to head to the library to do some homework. They’d been discussing the Wild Islands and other parts of the world in class, making Izumi remember the old couple's conversation.

The Wild Islands were parts of the world where absolute chaos struck out when Quirk happened. But, of course, they weren’t all together either, with a few being in the North American area, some in South America, a couple around the European countries, some around Africa and others in Asia’s area. Some weren’t even islands or didn’t start as them. For instance, the former province of Quebec in Canada was made into an island by a handful of super-powerful Quirk users who moved the landlocked province to the ocean. Florida in America had a similar instance, with someone collapsing part of it.

Izumi felt fascinated by it. Her dad told her in one of their phone conversations in a service area that some of the islands had settled down but were still titled Wild Islands only because they had a higher-than-average crime rate. His girlfriend Emily was from the former Quebec one and had plenty of stories about it. Sometimes Izumi felt that her dad was only with Emily because of the stories or because she saw marriage as a business rather than anything else, making it easy for her to date Hisashi when he was married.

Izumi wondered how Japan and a few other countries held on rather than break apart when Quirks first came. The wars destroyed France and Sweden, the nations only just slowly picking up a few hundred years later. Thanks to Hisashi's books, Izumi knew that the United States fared no better. Many states, such as Florida, Texas and New York, fell into disarray during the wars. Many people fled to previously uninhabitable parts of the world if they could. The pictures her dad took for her of him at the North Pole, the Sahara, and even the underwater city named after the mythological Atlantis always made her gasp in awe seeing them. People who had Quirks that could help them survive, to build a new life in any condition. Her dad only could go because of the things the people constructed there. Even people from Japan fled to these new places to live, yet Japan suffered no schism in their country.

Izumi entered the library of her school, eager to try and find out why. Yet a voice shouted from behind her, making her shoulders slump. “Dammnit,” she said. She cast an apologetic look to the librarian, who simply wrinkled her nose in answer, jerking her head back out. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault, kid, but the policy is policy,” the librarian said. Rules stated she would have to kick out both sides of a conflict even if one was clearly at fault. She couldn’t bar anyone either, so Kacchan would be allowed in no matter what. So Izumi might as well cut out the middleman.

Izumi reentered the hall, crossing her arms as Kacchan stomped up to her. She frowned at the boy, who scowled at her angrily, his friends trailing behind her.

“Why are you looking at three hundred files?!” Kacchan demanded.

“Cause I have to,” Izumi said bluntly. “As part of the agreement, I have to look at three hundred files sent in. Would have been more, but mom refused and said there was an age limit of ten years.”

“Really?” Tsubasa, a boy with dark hair and a wing Quirk, asked, sounding shocked. “People sent in like offers older than ten years?”

“Yeah. I asked mom, and she had to admit that a few were like my dad’s age now, even if they sent it in back then.” Izumi wrinkled her nose. “Super gross.”

“Ewww.” The other boy, Tanaka, could grow his fingers super long, “that’s gnarly, Midoriya. And you still have a bunch of offers from people older now?”

“Yes, I do,” Izumi admitted. Both of Kacchan’s friends traded looks.

“I’m out,” decided Tanaka. “I ain’t bullying her right now when this shit’s on her head.”

“Yeah.” Tsubasa said, highly disturbed. “I mean, we all knew ‘cause our parents said, but like we never knew, people that old wanted to marry you. Gross.”

“Yeah,” Tanaka shook his head. “Later, Bakugou.” he turned and left, Tsubasa following. Bakugou looked after them in shock, letting Izumi quickly scurry off. She heard Bakugou shouting at his friends, sounding furious as he screamed insults at them, unamused at their leaving.

Izumi realized there could be a small bright side to having people be aware of what was going on with her after all.

-0-

The day the files came, Izumi had a list of criteria she would put them through. Admittedly most of it was about money; a small part of Izumi felt terrible that she considered money necessary but figured it made sense with her plans. Plus, they just wanted her for babies, so they could suck it up that she wanted them for money.

The agency brought over actual files after Izumi asked for them, though only one sheet basic summaries of the people who applied. Izumi liked paper more than she liked tablets or the such, finding it easier to sort through things. Plus, she could write notes on the documents.

Izumi sat down early one Friday night with the papers, a pen, and her notebook of criteria in front of her. She read through it quickly first.

Must be above a certain wealth point

Must donate a certain amount each year already

Preferably already does charity work

Any mention of my Quirkless status is a no instantly if done in a demeaning way.

Preferably, my future spouse already has plans to make a lot of money in a certain job.

Any weird comments about babies are a no.

There were more bits and pieces, mainly regarding charities and the people. Izumi nodded her head before looking at the three hundred pieces of paper. Her mom set down a cup of tea, knowing Izumi would want to do this herself.

Inko wanted her baby to have a choice. Izumi didn’t know everything about her parents or their marriage, but she knew enough to see the bitterness in her mother’s eyes, the way her father never called her. The way that her mother at times spoke of arranged marriages, how she wished they could go back to the days where sure, you could introduce people, but you couldn’t force them.

Izumi knew enough to know her mother wanted her to choose for herself. So Izumi would.

The first ten were discarded as soon as she read each family's small ‘letter’. “Amount to something worthy as a Quirkless.” “Quirkless won’t get another choice.” Phrases dotted the pages, and she got rid of them. The next ten were discarded for weird comments about babies. The next ten were rejected for not being rich enough.

The thirty-first she paused at. Bakugou Katsuki. She glanced at the letter and felt her lungs tighten.

“This is more of a formality than anything. We know Inko will pick Katsuki for Izumi, while Izumi will pick him. They’ve known each other for years; seeing them together will be adorable. Poor girl’s Quirkless but Katsuki wants to have his own agency as a hero. She can be useful.”

The papers went into the rejected pile. Even if she didn’t have to run from Bakugou because she worried he’d hurt her. Even if she didn’t fear him and didn’t cry out for her once friend…

Those words hurt even worse.

-0-

By the time a week passed, Izumi had narrowed down the applicants to six. Or sort of. Through the papers, she’d discovered that sometimes agencies would send in applicants for people like Detrant (which she’d rejected after reading one sentence) and something called Shie Hassaikai (rejected because the Chisaki guy included a letter on it and two sentences in she went nope cause that was a bizarre anti version of Quirkless discrimination). One of which was the Hero Commission, speaking of a promising young hero who they would be supporting financially. The Commission helped fund several charities that Izumi knew of, and from the sounds of the letter, written by Tamaki Keigo, the guy seemed alright.

So she put it in the yes pile. The next one came from Todoroki Enji for Todoroki Shouto. As in, Endeavour made her an offer on behalf of his son. Izumi could not help her fangirl glee about that, the entire thing only increasing when she decided to put the proposal from the Iida family, as in the family of speed Quirk pro heroes, into the pile. Not only were both hero families, but they also were known for charity work and donations. Endeavour’s contributions to domestic violence victim organizations, plus the grants to hero students who didn’t have a lot of money, were well known. The Iida family also donated to hero students while funding several charities for mutation-based Quirks.

The following three options were from the Shinsou family, which Izumi heard about from her mom, who heard from Bakugou Mitsuki. They owned a fashion company and were loud supporters of all Quirks. They funded charities against bullying, Quirk Discrimination and donated a lot of money. They were put into the pile, followed by the Monoma family. A wealthy family that, while the letter screamed ‘pompous’ to Izumi, supported all Quirks while also helping fund anti-Quirkless discrimination charities. The last file in the yes pile came from the Tokoyami family, who owned a successful film company while supporting mutation Quirks and anti-bullying charities.

With all those files picked, Izumi just needed to arrange to meet them and slowly get to know them over the next year.

It shouldn’t be too hard. Or so she thought until her mom dragged her to a nice shop where the For the Future Agency agent waited for them. A woman named Haruno Haruhi. The agent wasted little time explaining the process they would go through as the shop's tailor measured Izumi.

“This isn’t a proper omiai,” Haruno explained. “But I do operate with the role of nakōdo as a basis. I’m here to conduct the introductions, arrange the meetings and where they are, and monitor the entire situation.”

“Is there anything we should know?” Inko asked.

“You’ll be expected to provide information on your family and probably will be asked about how you think the match will go, while Izumi will be grilled on her habits, hobbies, talents and so on.” Haruno explained. “They get the same speech, plus I tell them you can ask the same questions. Though Endeavour already knows this, given I helped arrange his marriage.“

“Oh! So you know them already?” Inko asked. Haruno shrugged.

“Of a sort. Todoroki Enji was a young man desperate to make a mark, and Himura Rei was a pretty girl whose family encouraged the relationship.” Haruno shook her head. “Not maliciously or anything. It’s simply the girl wanted to be a wife and mother, seeing the agency as the best option for it. People forget the Todoroki family was old, old, old money from before the Quirk Wars, back in the pre-Quirk era even. So a good-looking, rich, talented and smart man? Yeah, they pushed.”

“But you remember them?” Inko asked. Haruno chuckled.

“I remember arranging a celebrity’s marriage, yeah.” She paused. “I also remember rumours pointing to a mental breakdown from Himura, so I’m not sure if she’ll show up, so you’re aware.”

“Ah,” Inko frowned, wondering if that could be genetic (while feeling bad about doing so) as Izumi looked through the shop's clothing catalogue. She didn’t want anything too fancy, but she did want something more than a skirt and blouse. After some talk, she picked a lovely dark red dress with a wide scoop collar, the sleeves hitting her elbows. It would be ready in time for the meetings, which would be held at a tea shop nearby.

“I’m going to drink so much tea,” Izumi told her mom, who laughed at her.

“Yes, you will,” Inko told her in amusement. Izumi pouted at her mother, unhappy the other woman didn’t understand. That much tea meant so many bathroom trips.

So many.

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Notes:

-More OOMPH to the story in my opinion.

-I wanted world building, plus I thought it would be interesting to have Hisashi in a relationship. Are they important? No- Hisashi is almost always in a non-service area due to his job where he gets to visit various areas of the world to study Quirks. He mostly ends up in areas where complete destruction happened due to Quirks.

-I don’t know if it’ll come up, but the reason Japan didn’t have a huge event happen that ripped apart their country was because of AFO not wanting it to happen. The guy went: nah, I want to rule my country in one piece and it would be harder to do so if there was too much infighting. So he sabotaged any efforts to cause giant issues that had led to instances like Quebec or Florida.

-Also yes, Atlantis is real. A bunch of people who could breathe/withstand the pressure of the ocean moved to a relatively safe place, and built a city. There are places for people to live without needing to breathe underwater which is where Hisashi stayed. Sadly it’s completely cut off service wise but they’re working on it.

-Real life abusers often donate to charity and help out. The idea that Endeavour would do that same isn’t that much of a stretch, plus it fits with the image he attempts to give.

-Because I’m bored: Monoma’s family is all old money. His parents invest it, and cultivate it and are very much ‘rich people’ ala Ouran High School Host Club. Tokoyami’s family is similar in the sense that his family has run the same company for a few generations and has made a lot of cash. Shinsou’s family only got rich thanks to his grandmother, but are still really well off. The Todoroki family is just RICH as hell. Iida and his family are old money to along with being heroes. The Commission is the Commission.

-The addition of Monoma solely came from a love of the character, plus some fun ideas I have for the plot line in his route.

-Yes. In this AU, the marriage was arranged between Endeavour and Rei came through the same agency. Here, he was already looking for strong quirked individuals and then ended up finding the agency which led him to Rei, who wanted to be a housewife.

#bnha #bnha au #betrothal au: take 2 #the beginning (diverging paths)#female izuku #female midoriya izuku

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septembersghost · 2 years

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sorry if someone mentioned this before but the "You make me happy" line reminds me of when they both got married, and saul was like "are you sure? i know this isnt what you imagined when you were 12" and. i think when it comes to love he is incapsulated in that innocence, bc no doubt when he said that he was referring to himself as well. this isnt what he imagined, if he ever had the pleasure, marrying kim would be like (man was probably imagining songbirds with ribbons over an arbor tbh) the whole lets get married, lets have a house and host movie nights and work together. its a similar innocence between him and chuck, that big-eyed admiration for his big brother. Him crying the hardest at his parents funeral. I feel like he is just so full of love that is,,, untainted and its his most redeeming quality and yet it is so out of his grasp

anon...i am clutching my heart at this message. this is such good analysis and you're so right, and i am SAD.

i didn't even think of that line of jimmy's when they got married, but there is definitely a parallel there, and jimmy has this sappy romantic (affectionate) aspect to him - those previous two dissolutions, i imagine, were not from relationships that were particularly long lasting or meaningful for him, and we certainly know the second one, uh, did not end well. i don't think he ever loved anyone the way he felt about kim, and that he wished they could've had the fancy wedding with the flowers and the cake and the dance floor. "man was probably imagining songbirds with ribbons over an arbor tbh" CRYING this is accurate. in jimmy's perfect world, i think he would've gotten down on one knee and given her a ring and then swept her off to their ranch house. this man doodled their initials together like a girl with a crush and a glitter pen. he wanted to work in the same office with her because he valued her and never tired of spending time with her. he dreamed of them having a house together, sharing a warm space and a life. seeing her was the highlight of his day, every day. it's why he can't fathom the concept of her being bad for him - i wouldn't even say he unfairly put her on a pedestal per se, because it's not like other women who've gotten that treatment in stories, who maybe aren't seen as whole people, he never undermined her agency. he admired her and felt such happiness with her that it could only be his fault if it went wrong. the one fight where he gets unfairly angry and accuses her of rolling around in the mud with him when she gets bored is total self-loathing projection and grief/guilt-laden chuck issues much less than it is a reflection of how he feels about her. (the saddest part is, that argument, in jimmy's fractured perspective, probably just became true.) the way he looks at her when they get married says everything. it doesn't matter where they are, it doesn't matter that maybe it isn't the fantasy, having her at all is the dream. there is an innocence and earnestness in that. there's a hopefulness in his desire for an office and a home. he yearns for that, for that one safe place.

and he was like that with chuck too! he respected chuck, he craved his acceptance. he wanted to work with him. "big-eyed admiration" totally. :( it showed in how he took care of chuck too, making sure he had everything he needed, defending him to doctors and colleagues alike. (howard making himself the heavy at chuck's behest and getting involved in the middle is part of why this all played out as horrifically as it did.) jimmy has a certain caregiving instinct. chuck rejecting jimmy is damaging in such an acute way that jimmy never even fully processes it. anything from, "you're not a real lawyer!" ... "i thought you were proud of me," to those horrible last words, they scar him indelibly.

wanting to snap his fingers and fix things with his mom in the hospital, crying the hardest at his dad's funeral, all of that is genuine, despite his many faults and mistakes. he may have that inclination to scam and to slip, but his emotions are very real, and the love in him is maybe the realest thing about him. the purest thing. and when there was nowhere else for it to go, he gave it all to kim.

"I feel like he is just so full of love that is,,, untainted and its his most redeeming quality and yet it is so out of his grasp" 100% agree and you phrased this beautifully and it makes for such captivating, empathetic tragedy. what's more human than wanting to be seen for all you are and accepted anyway, to love and be loved? what's more aching than constantly losing it, and losing more of yourself each time it slips away?

#jimmy mcgill #this hurt me but i thank you for sending it #better call saul #bcs spoilers #anonymous #letterbox

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itsthemysterykids · 2 years

Note

The Mystery Kids switch cliques!

Coraline- Geek

Locker full of comics

Prefers to go by Cora

Tells people she’s a water bender

Always going to ComicCon

Cosplays whenever she can

“I’m not a nerd, I’m a geek! Learn the difference!”

Marvel and DC shirts

On good terms with Mabel, Neil, and Raz, seeing as they’re the ‘Loner Squad’

HATES BeBe ever since he trashed her fingerless gloves on a school morning announcement segment

Stan Lee and Chadwick Boseman shrine in her bedroom. Mourns them every Saturday morning

Dyed Mabel’s hair and paints Raz’s nails whenever he asks

Wybie- Prep

Goes by BeBe. No one knows his real name

Sarcastic

Mean, but he has a heart… It’s somewhere

Head anchor on the school’s morning announcements and has a segment where he roasts students’ fashion choices

Selfie. King.

Best friends with Lili

2 cool 4 u

Slaying in heels

Fashion icon

Desperately wants to give Mabel a makeover

Only knows Cora because her parents are renting one of his grandma’s apartments

Norman- Jock

Norman Babcock, captain of three teams. His mom is LOADED. She’s a divorce lawyer

Captain of the football, basketball, and baseball team

LOUD

Himbo

Willing to take on any dare

Count on him to bring the whole school to a party when you only invited like a few dozen

Carries Lili and BeBe on his shoulders during game days to build up his strength

Makes sure to give BeBe his letterman jacket during football games since he gets cold the easiest

Doesn’t seem like it, but he’s the mom friend of the popular kids

Neil- Nerd

Always gets Straight A’s

Hates tutoring since he lacks the patience

Has had his lunch try smacked away by Norman countless times

On good terms with Mabel since they’re always paired up for writing assignments

May or may not be coming up with revenge plots to use against the popular kids

Will give you the answers to a test… Only to snitch on you later

Has all his school textbooks on his tablet

Not sure how he got swept up in his friend group, but isn’t complaining

Carries a thermos full of coffee

Dipper- Skater

Goes by D-Fresh

90s kid at heart

One of the Popular Kids

Pretty good at rapping

Has a YouTube channel where he just posts his best moment on the halfpipe

Skates through the school halls

No one knows Mabel is his sister and he doesn’t bother bringing it up

One of the very few people allowed to take a selfie with BeBe and Lili

Always creating new slang everyone starts using

Mabel- Emo

Prefers to hang back while her brother soaks up the attention

Always seen in black or dark red

Reluctantly hangs out with Coraline because of Raz, but grows to like her when she walked into school wearing a Corpse Bride shirt

Liberated the live frogs that were going to be dissected

Feels a pang in her heart whenever Dipper ignores her at school

Neil is her life preserver in this hell hole they call school

Secretly wants to set Lili and BeBe on fire

Loves Monster x Human romance novels and wishes one would wisk her away

Secretly wishes she had Carrie’s powers

Raz- Goth

“I’m not a damn Emo! Mabel is!”

Became friends with Coraline when she helped fix his nail polish and sort of brought her into his group

Pretty good friends with Mabel despite their rival cliques

Owns a few spell books

Anarchist

Had a crush on Lili… What was he thinking?

Likes to crash the popular kids parties and play a bunch of death metal over the speakers

Helped Coraline throw an ‘Uncool Party’ for the social rejects at school

May or not be staging a revolution against the popular kids

Secret love for theater

Reads Stephen King novels with Mabel

Lili- Cheerleader

Captain of the squad

BSFFs (Best Shopping Friends Forever) with BeBe

Girl definitely owns a pony

Has that ‘Perfect Princess’ vibe going on

Runs the yearbook

Has over 10K followers

Everyone would kill for her to sign their yearbooks

Has every guy pining after her

Has spots in the yearbook reserved for her friends

Makes sure to tussle Norman’s hair for good luck before every game

“As your school president, I vow to get rid of exams, cafeteria food, nerds in ugly clothing.”

#coraline #mystery kids #paranorman #gravity falls #psychonauts #the mystery kids #ask stuff #answered ask

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erijonarexhepis-blog · 1 year

Text

AUTHOR’S NOTE

"CAUGHT IN A LANDSLIDE,

NO ESCAPE FROM REALITY"

☆ﾐ SEASON ONE

"Those men didn't have protection"

"I will"

"Oh, hon. No, you won't"

"I was surprised to see you. I always thought you would become a lawyer like your mom"

"It's the cliché story. My parents were murdered, and so I became a cop"

"What would you do without me?"

"I don't think I want to find out"

"You and Amy"

"Nothing is going on between me and Amy"

"But you wish something was going on"

"Thanks for having my back"

"That's what partners are for"

Main cast

Chloe Bennet as Amy Hughes | G. I. JANE | "I have a mean right hook, just so you know"

Jesse Lee Soffer as Jay Halstead | DETECTIVE CHUCKLES | "If you're gonna lie, put some effort into it for me"

Marina Squerciati as Kim Burgess | GOLDEN GIRL | "Besides, I have, like, the best detective watching my back. It's going to be fine"

Sophia Bush as Erin Lindsay | VOIGHT'S GIRL | "Kiss my ass"

Jason Beghe as Hank Voight | THE SERGEANT | "I've been given the go-ahead to run Intelligence the way I want to run it. No interference. This is our unit now"

Elias Koteas as Alvin Olinsky | THE FATHER FIGURE | "You're her partner, and you can be her friend, but if you do anything to hurt her... well, then you'll be nothing"

Other cast

Jon Seda as Antonio Dawson

Patrick John Flueger as Adam Ruzek

LaRoyce Hawkins as Kevin Atwater

Archie Kao as Sheldon Jin

Melissa Sagemiller as Julie Willhite

Amy Morton as Trudy Platt

Stella Maeve as Nadia Decotis

WARNINGS:

— Spoilers

— Mention/description of blood/injury/death

— Mention/description of sexual assault/harassment/rape

— Mature/sexual content

— Mention/description of suicide

— Mention of drug use/substance abuse

— Spelling/grammar errors

— Shitty writing

NOTE:

— I don't mind if anyone points out spelling mistakes, there might be a few.

— Amy is Pansexual

— Jay served longer in the ranger in the story than in the show, so it fits the story and them serving together.

— Amy is investigating her parents' murders, but it's more of a behind the scenes thing. It doesn't really get mentioned. But she is looking into the case and working on it.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

Enjoy :)

#chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead #jay halstead x oc #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #kim burgess #sean roman #trudy platt #erin lindsay #hank voight #alvin olinsky #antonio dawson

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jaywritesrps · 9 days

Note

This whole thing with Sophia seems like deja vu. She keeps going on and on about how happy she is and how she's finally found her person, just like she did with Grant. From what she said in the Glamour article, it seems like she was pretending before. I hope for her sake that it's true this time, but do truly happy people really keep harping on about how happy they are? Also her saying that Ashlyn is a great mum as if she didn't remove mum from her bio as soon as their relationship became public... Do we also think that she's with Ashlyn because she already has kids? It seems like with her fertility issues and her desire to be a mum, it's maybe easier to be with someone who has kids.

Honestly, I agree with you about Grant and this behavior she has when she ends relationships it's what will happen if she and Ash dont work it out and people that hates Ashlyn will throw that in her face, as one big and fat "I told you so".

Also since the article broke, I can't help to think on two things my sources said a while ago: 1) that it was very easy to believe on AH's narrative when she tells her story, without knowing or ignoring what was going on AK's side and how the whole woso players acted since then and 2) that if you are a public person and you are happy, you don't need keep telling everyone that you happy in every chance you got, cause it makes you looks like Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch to prove his love for Katie Holmes. And right now, Sophia is this close 🤏 to looks like Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Besides, this also contradicts her own words when she says "I have nothing to prove cause haters will choose what they want to believe". That might be true, however if you have nothing to prove then why are you working so hard to clean the mess your gf's made? If you want privacy so much, so why do keep bringing your private life to internet and to a magazine? Like I get that she wants to help Ashlyn to clean herself and I applaud her for it and for her loyalty, but she is only making things worse for Ashlyn (also part of me thinks it's a little disrespectful with Ashlyn's wish of keeping private) and proving haters might have a point when they say she is pretending to be happy.

"Do we also think she's with Ashlyn for the kids?"

I still don't have an answer on this, cause, although it seems Sophia is part of Ashlyn's kids' lives and that Ali is okay with that, we don't have much informations about it, which is good cause I am not a fan of exposing kids on SM, especially on times like these with AI (ironic for someone who laughs watching how Charlie is becoming just like her mom Alex lol), but I don't think Sophia is the type of person that will get too comfortable raising other's persons kids, especially when those kids already have two very active moms, and one of those moms is very protective over them, to a point her lawyers want to put a clause in their divorce agreement to make sure the other mom is in the same town as her kids. I think eventually she will want to have her own kids, but i don't think Ashlyn is ready for more, you know. Only time will tell this for us.

#jay rants #krashinbush debacle

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casspurrjoybell-24 · 23 days

Text

My Mate - Chapter 3 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"Did you have fun last night?" Mom asked, pulling me away from the book I was reading.

"Yeah," I lied with a smile, something I've gotten good at.

"I wish I had gotten another funnel cake though."

Which was true, I love those things and they're only good when you get one from the fair.

"Good," Mom said happily.

"You should get out of the house more, it's not healthy just sitting around here."

I went back to my book or at least tried to.

Her question had reminded me about how I'd sat on the side of the street for hours until Calvin and Robert finally arrived with two females.

I had to go back to the fair and get a ride home with Dad, who kept glancing my way and frowning the whole twenty minute ride.

I get it, I'm a disappointment.

He must of told Mom and that's why she's questioning me.

"You know Mrs. Tilly is hiring down at the bakery," Mom said, spraying something that smelt like lemons and chemicals before wiping it up with an old rag.

"It wouldn't hurt to get a part time job. You can start saving while you figure out what you want to do after high school."

I hated this conversation more than any other.

The thought of adult responsibilities scared me.

The older I got the more real they became and the more I feared them.

It was even worse because I still had no idea what I was supposed to do.

Everyone around me had goals and plans and all I could think about was just getting out of that brainwashing camp.

Also know as school.

It's weird, when I was a pup there was so many things I wanted to become.

For the longest time I was set on being a princess.

Back then everyone thought it was cute or judged my parents parenting, allowing their son to walk around in a pink princess dress.

My parents always told me I could be anything I wanted to be.

After my princess dress disappeared... I'm pretty sure mom threw it away after finally getting it off me... I wanted to be a lawyer.

No matter that I couldn't look anyone in the eyes without becoming flustered and blushing.

Or the fact that I couldn't have an argument or debate without crying.

They're angry tears, I promise.

Still my parents told me I could be anything.

After all those years... after being told I could be anything... it's become annoyingly clear that I had not a clue as to what I wanted to be.

My grades weren't good enough to become a lawyer or a doctor.

Being a princess was out of the window when I learned I'd actually be a prince.

I didn't really have a solid interest.

It also didn't help that after I hit thirteen everyone started telling me the things I couldn't do.

"You know what, I'm going to go ahead and call her. That job will be perfect for you," Mom said, determination shining in her dark green eyes.

"Mom," I whined, getting up to follow her into the kitchen.

"No, I know you like baking, admit it," She said, pointing her finger at me.

My face warmed but I didn't say anything.

"See," Mom grabbed the house phone and started looking over the numbers sloppily written on the pad hanging on the fridge.

"But Mom... that's only when no ones around," I murmured, twiddling my fingers.

"And this job will help you get out of that shell of yours," she said with that matter-of-fact tone.

I slumped on a bar stool and watched her as she talked on the phone.

She'd just hung up when the front door opened and Calvin walked in wearing the same rumpled clothes he had on yesterday.

"Calvin Carter Frey," Mom yelled, stopping him from going upstairs.

Oh, full name, he's in trouble.

I watched intently, it was a guilty pleasure watching my older brother get in trouble.

"What did I tell you about acting like one of those human man whores?"

Mom stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes hard and narrowed.

The scent on Calvin hit me a little later, my nose weaker than mom's.

Yeah, there was nothing hiding what he'd been up to.

Why didn't he shower before coming home?

Did he have no decency?

Respect for his elders?

Who raised him?

When Calvin didn't respond, Mom looked like she was ready to get dad's leather belt.

The one that hangs on the back of their bedroom door, ready to discipline us no matter how old we got.

"What are you going to do when you find your Mate?"

"I'm an adult having consensual sex with other adults, my Mate is probably out doing the same thing."

Calvin shrugged.

That was one of the things Wolves picked up after mingling with humans for so long.

It use to be seen as one of the biggest sins against the moon Goddess to be with anyone but your Mate.

It was acceptable and almost expected for a wolf to be rejected by their Mate if they shared relations with another.

Some Werewolves were still rejected because of it but it wasn't a common thing anymore.

Mom's old school though and so she always reminds Calvin that what he's doing is wrong.

Mom said a quick prayer to the Moon Goddess, apologizing for her stupid son before sending Calvin to shower.

"Coming into my home smelling like that. Like I didn't raise him," Mom huffed, talking to herself.

"Oh, Sweetie, you got the job," Mom said, kissing my cheek before leaving the kitchen.

I gaped a little.

"You start tomorrow."

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julykings-blog · 2 months

Text

It's been awhile since i created a blog, this video was located at Sinagtala farm and resort in Orani Bataan Philippines, I'm with my grandma and sister here we planned to hangout for a moment to unwind and relax, that was a cup of coffee with cocoa it really taste good and you know what? it doesn't have any sugar at all but it taste so good, it makes me warm and energized, plus the relaxing sensation of the trees and serenity of the place, the ambiance will make this hangout very comfortable and relaxing, it was a perfect place to think and contemplate.

I highly recommend this place you can also rent a room and swim at their swimming pool and the view was breath taking.

Well talking about my life right now i still don't have a job what I'm doing right now is preparing myself for interviews if in case i applied, and I'm reading some history cause i love history and the book i bought in sm which is world's greatest speeches i hope i will remember the unfamiliar words cause I'm checking the dictionary whenever i read some unfamiliar words.

Well though I'm reading a lot of english history and books and watching movies I still don't have enough confidence I feel like I'm still lack of knowledge when it comes to English Language i still can't say that I'm fluent.

But I'm still not giving up, most of the time i feel like i want to study again and i want a course of psychology and lawyer.

I know this is too late for my age but i want to do things that could improve and be a better version before I get very old and died.

Living in my mom's house right now i feel guilty most of the time though my mom is not thinking about getting a job urgently but I feel pity and useless for myself.

I want to find a job but i remember my condition is not that good i feel strong as of now but i know that if i drive myself again on working hard my health will become detrimental again, but i need to find a job and word for my future though it's really late but for me what i really felt is I'm not that ready to dive into that decision right now, to go to work again, but soon maybe if Gods will, because I can't stay here all my life without doing nothing, I'm just afraid to leave my mom again she's really old and my grandma but I don't have any choice, I don't have a choice but to fight again to continue my journey my goals,

I pray to God to give me wisdom to be successful in any decisions i do or any job that i will choose and specially my health i wish and pray he will give me strength to fight again to endure until i became successful me and my family.

#family over everything

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anavatazes · 6 months

Text

Today is not a good day.

As some of you know, back in May, I lost my mother. She was 87. And the last five years of her life were not the easiest. Her health had taken several turns for the worst, and I wish I had known what I know now. But, I can't turn the clock back, and though I can hold a grudge like nobody's business, there is no point here, and it would upset Mom. So, not doing it.

Today would have been her 88th Birthday. She was predeceased by her husband of 51 years, my father, on their wedding anniversary. They had 7 kids, 13 grands, and 12 great-grands.

I am spending today helping my brother with her estate to make sure he gets what he needs. It's brother #3, the one who came just before me. We're the babies of the bunch. The GenXers. He is not using a lawyer because of bad experiences in the past with family and lawyer, so, between him, me, and sister #2, we're making sure everything gets done on the up and up, and with as few headaches and drama as possible. With as much of a headache as NYS can be at times, with its court systems, it's actually simplified a lot of stuff, and made it easier for Joe Blow off the street to get shit done. It also helps that Mom's estate is small, so it's just formalities at this point.

Big sis is helping more on the legal side, and I am helping on the tax side. And he is using us both as sounding boards. As with any family, you have your drama queens. We have one major one that likes to make herself out to be the victim, and then alienate herself from everyone, but then says she takes the higher ground because her shit don't stank. 🤷‍♀️ All I know is I am following my conscience and Mom's wishes. Before she became really sick and her mind started going, she and I had a talk. Originally, she had things set up with one of my daughters being her heir. Long story there, that I am not getting into. Anyway, by this time, my brother had already stepped up and was taking care of Mom, moved her in his place, making sure she was being taken care of, etc. She began a sentence with, I was thinking changing the life insurance...

I cut her off and said, if you are changing it to brother #3, that's a wonderful idea, and you should do it! She was afraid that I would be upset with her, and I reassured her that I saw what my brother was doing, and it was what I wanted to, but was unable to at the time. He deserved it all, seeing as he was giving up his life, and in the last 5 years of her life, he really gave up his life for her.

I never looked back and decided to change my mind. Even with having an idea of how much money is left. I told my brother I didn't want to know. It was between him and Mom. And that if he didn't use some of that money to live a little, I would kick his ass.

He and I may have fought like no tomorrow when we were kids, driving that poor woman up the fucking wall, but he's my brother, and with all the shit he's been through, and done, he deserves all the live and respect I can muster for him. Especially knowing the things I know now.

Mom had a form of dementia called Sun Downers. Look it up, I'm not gonna explain it. To difficult to right now. But, Mom could remember her life up to 1955 clear as day. Anything after 1955 came in bits and bobs. She didn't even remember brother #3 at all. She confused him with brother #1 or with Dad often. On his last birthday with her, she looked at him and told him that she knows she's supposed to know him, knows she's his mother, and wishes she could remember. And that she was sorry.

He couldn't bring himself to me what was really happening, and I was upset at him for it, but we made our peace. He was hurting and was trying to protect himself. I can't blame him for that. Gods know I've pulled shit like that. Trust me, we've made our peace. If we didn't, I wouldn't even be telling anyone this stuff right now. And recall what I said about grudges. I am a Cancer.

So, I will pour a drink for her and one for the ancestors today. And call my brother. Already talked to my mother's sister. That wasn't easy. She wasn't able to go to the funeral due to health. Told her I will be carting her ass up to NY soon so she can visit the family cemetery.

#family #family angst #greif #family drama #not feeling it today #miss my mom #wanted to call her today

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declaredmissing · 1 year

Text

to the sea

I discovered that enchanted territory for the first time during my first year in college. February, the heart of winter. Eighteen and wide eyed, and still swept up in the romanticized glamour of New York. I once watched a film where Coney Island was underwater, and that was what I imagined the first time I went there. Past the abandoned parking lots and the desolation of an amusement park in the off-season, and my imagination was swept up in the Coney Island of Spielberg’s film Artificial Intelligence.

The protagonist of the film is a robot boy who longs to become human, like Pinocchio. On his quest, he sets off on a journey to make his appeal to the blue fairy of Coney Island. When he arrives, she is only a statue submerged. The myth dissipates for the audience, but not for the robot. That’s what I always imagined when I’d think of Coney Island; the spokes of the Ferris wheel, rusting and eerie in the shifting light of the water. The wooden statue of the blue fairy rooted in the mud, paint chipping, frozen smile splintering. Everything silenced.

My very first impression of Coney Island–a boarded up and shuttered and desolate amusement park–quickly made it synonymous with the failed American dream and collapsed utopian aspirations, but also the place where you could journey to have your wishes granted, to finally become human.

Over the years, Coney Island became many things to me, but a stubborn, tender love that remained that was born from this first impression.

Taking the Q train to Coney Island for what feels like an eternal hour becomes, for me, a mythic journey to become human again. A journey to a place where I’ll find the answers. It would become the park I'd flee to, to find solitude and freedom. That I'd run to when I was lonely, where I would take the trains to the end of the line when I needed the ocean. It was the final destination, every time, when I needed to get out of Manhattan. Where I would ride my bike on the boardwalk, teeth rattling in my jaws from the uneven slats. Where I would dress up, tuck roses in my hair, buy cotton candy and sit on the benches and look at the sky.

There is a poem titled“diaspora blues” by Ijeoma Umebinyuo, which captures the unanchored feeling of belonging nowhere.

“So, here you are too foreign for home too foreign for here.”

The immigration narrative is the same repeated story, shared experience, of how our parents sacrificed so much for us. Caught between the desire to be true to ourselves, and the guilt of feeling obligated to make our parents proud, to make their sacrifice worth it. What do we owe our parents? For the longest time, I thought I had the best compromise in college; to become a human rights lawyer. I would make them proud by taking on a respectable profession, and I would also be following a “dream career”. Idealistic, starry-eyed, younger me.

My friend tells me his mom just packed her bags and left. She got fired from her job, told them she was leaving, and left. That simply. But you don’t do things like that without the desire building in you for a long time. Maybe my mom wanted to be the girl who moved to a different city, changed her name, never looked back.

Once, my mother asked me to write her a story where she’s not in this life. "Write me a story where I run away and I start somewhere new," she asks me. "A life where I escape and I'm on my own, far away from everything here." No one in my family was buried in this land. This is not a country our history or stories are in.

Growing up, I resented sharing my writing or my secret dreams or accomplishments with my mom. Somehow, I felt that she wanted my life, and so I wanted to keep it away from her. My therapist at the time wondered – does she aspire, or is she just proud of me? I couldn’t tell the difference. How can I tell the difference when my mom tells me that she wishes she could trade lives withe me, just for a day, wishing that she could be going to college in new york city with her whole future ahead of her. I was oblivious to the fact that my mother contained an entire internal world of her own. As a teenager, it started dawning on me that she was out of place in Kansas. But only recently did I start trying to comprehend what it might really feel like to leave behind a world you know, that is familiar to you, with people that speak your native language, to an unfriendly and lonely place called the midwest.

No one in my family was buried in this land. This is not a country our history or stories are in. Sometimes I go to Coney Island because the city gets to be too much. I don't know if I invented this ritual so I can run from this city, or because I'm trying to run towards something else, or because I need some kind of anchor in such an unfriendly city. I've inherited my mother's longing for a home to ground her feet in. My mother and I long for a homeland, but this is our land now.

At night, I can see the glittering skyline of Manhattan from far away. It always pulls me in, orienting me, even though it no longer makes me feel the way it did three years ago when I first move to the city. I long for a homeland, but this is all I have.

I've inherited my mother's longing for a home to ground her feet in. This is a story about a girl who runs away.

I frequently have these dreams of walls closing in on me, how there’s no safe place for me to retreat to. When I walk through the city, I always notice the severed wings, the crumpled feathers and smashed claws of pigeons, carcasses crushed against sidewalk grates. The buildings, tall and dark and glittering, threaten to cave in and close in on me. The skyscrapers are why the city burns in the summer. The concrete aids and abets. In this city, there's so much noise and chaos competing that it crowds me out of my own mind, relentless, unforgiving. In the city, all I can think of is what I have lost.

Once, my sister, my mother and I, lying on a mattress on the floor because we couldn't afford a bedframe yet. It's a hot summer day, and my sister and I are supposed to be napping but we're bored and restless. My mom tells me and my sister that we can't roll off the mattress. "We're on a ship in the clouds," she explains. "If your limbs hang off the ship, the sky pirates will shoot at us!" Storytelling was her way of making things bearable for us; her way of shining an ordinary world.

When I was a child, I would imagine people living in the sky, and I called them the cloud people. I imagined that when they looked down below, they were filled with wonder at what they saw.

My mom doesn't tell us stories anymore. When she comes home from work, she only has energy for watching the television. Years ago when I was in highschool, we would fight all the time. I would often come home from school, missing her joy, missing who she used to be, and feeling like I'd lost her even though she was there right in front of me. I didn't know how to say this. My words came out as accusations.

Years later when my mother visits me in New York City, her face is filled with child-like wonder as I introduce her to my apartment and tell her about the classes I'm taking. As she's unpacking her suitcase later that night, she says softly, "I wish I were in college like you, spending my days studying and exploring the city."

Later that night at the dining table, she becomes animated as she's telling stories about me to my roommate. Then the conversation shifts. "She's always scolding me for watching the television. Her and her dad, they won't give me peace. But they don't understand. I come home, I'm tired....the beautiful world is in the shows." I sit there next to her silently, wondering why she never told me this before. If this is her way of telling me because otherwise, she feels that I don't hear her.

No cure for a generation of grim forecasts and daily disasters. Kerala flooding until it’s the same old song, another boat overturned and lives lost at sea. Coral reefs dying, songbirds tangled in nets. Within a few generations, the Philippines will be underwater, and there'll be no home to return to. Many of the CO2 emissions causing ice glaciers to melt and make the sea rise are from 'superpowers' like the United States, and yet its those on the periphery that will take the fall.

In Manhattan, there are projects to build sea walls instead of recovering the oyster beds. The ocean will be redirected to overflow in coastal neighborhoods–Brighton Beach, Sheepshead Bay, Broad Channel. These will be the first to be swallowed by the sea. JFK Airport was built on Jamaica Bay, marshlands that are our only buffer to the rising waters. These marshlands were built upon landfills, landfills that have been leaking detritus that wash up onto the shores of Coney Island.

Not far from this beach is the former State Island Warehouse in Port Richmond, formerly used to store high-grade Belgian Congo uranium ore destined for the Manhattan Project. Uranium had spilled there once, and dangerous contamination confirmed in 2008. During the Cold War, the Manhattan Project was an American led effort to gain the nuclear advantage as a global power. These warehouses, leaking radiation, are the aftermath of the pursuit of atomic superiority. Radio contamination, poisoning our streams, and yet seagulls still bathe in the toxic pools. Beached birds are found with plastics with cadmium, lead, mercury, chromium, silver, lining their stomachs. Albatrosses feed plastic to their chicks, mistaking them for fish eggs, the larger pieces rupturing or blocking their internal organs.

My mother sometimes tells me about what it’s like in the Philippines, and then she apologizes, says she has no one else to talk to.

After I read the UN Report released by the ICPP, I lay half awake at night seeing islands sink into the sea. I’m nestled in the safety of an apartment far enough from sinking shorelines, but my lungs are feeling like they’ve flipped upside down, my body is confused how to respond to these rising statistics. There’s no medicine for a body’s reaction to calamity reports. I wake up in the dark of the morning in a disoriented fumbling panic, squeeze my eyes shut, wait for the world to stop, but it doesn’t. I don’t know how to stop the ache in my stomach, the resounding roar in my head. The confusion of my body being torn between the violence there and here.

Who are we diasporic children living for? We feel obligations to our parents for the sacrifices they made for us, but what is the best way to continue their legacy? I wonder what I might flower into if I felt there was space for my own dreams too. If I could discard the guilt that I am betraying my parents by running away into my own future.

That same day, I go to my anthropology class. It’s the morning after the news of drone strikes in Syria and my professor asks the room, “How do you cope with it?” “You don’t,” says one kid. “We’re all screwed.” Another student yells out, “cardio.”

The next morning, I stumble out of bed, lace up my sneakers, sprint into the sharp cold air. Running to forget rising sea levels, to deafen the acrid chorus of the news, we have failed. To lean into the steady timeline of my heartbeat. Focus on the oxygen bleeding out of my lungs, the knife slicing through the numbness and my feet slamming on the pavement so I don’t think about the saltwater sparrows drowning from the rising tides. People tell me I feel too much but I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into if I don’t and so I keep running.

It's said that the story of Plato's Atlantis was intended to be a warning–that the moral of the story was that the colonial empire met its fall from hubris and greed. A friend once told me, with the certainty of a doomsday prophet, that the crest of a wave is a harbinger of catastrophe. Someone else told me there used to be fireflies where he lived in New Jersey but there was a summer they disappeared and they don't come back anymore. Like sea turtles crawling towards the lights of the highways, peregrines smashing into the windows of skyscrapers, we diaspora children are blinded wild things hurtling to the edge of the cliff. They say slaughterhouses desensitize their workers to violence, but I want to know what the opposite of that could be.

I feel entangled with the desires of my mother, unsure how to separate them her desires from my own. It’s too painful to think of how closely and attentively she follows my life, and so instead, I sever all thought of it. I don’t look back. I keep running. I keep leaving. I don’t know how to return. I don’t know how to see.

Once in this city, a baby pigeon in the middle of the sidewalk, fallen out of her nest, screaming helplessly. I didn't know what to do. I walked away and left her there. Sometimes I go to Coney Island so I can escape this city. Or maybe because I'm trying to run towards something else, or maybe because it's supposed to be the happiest place in the world.

Dystopia in the lonely lights of a theme park’s after hours, an event horizon ribboning the black ridge of the ocean. An edge like a jagged rip in space, marking the sinking shorelines that this place would someday be condemned to. the boardwalk plays sentinel, marks the border between city and sea, commands the mark where the shorelines ought to cease sinking. Faded beacon of a golden age, or a shell, about to split into something we cannot know.

During a thunderstorm, my roommate reminds me that Manhattan and Brooklyn are part of an island archipelago; everything is connected. When I sit on airplanes now, I look at the tops of clouds and I wonder what the cloud people see.

The part of me that sees with western eyes imagines a New York City submerged by the ocean in a thousand years. The other part of me, carrying the inventive storyteller of my mother and the immediate violence of submerged islands, is trying to build a raft to take us elsewhere, somewhere real for us to land.

There is a Tagalog myth of how the Philippine islands were created. It begins with a bird, flying and searching for a place to land. There was nothing beneath her, only ocean. With her, she carried the world.

I don’t credit my mother for leaving a world she knew, for the strength and courage it takes to stand up for herself in a foreign land.

On an impulse in August, I take the A train to Jamaica Bay's wildlife refuge. As I’m walking there from the station, someone stops me and asks if I’m looking for the falcons. I don’t know what he means, so I shake my head. But later, when I’m standing alone in the middle of the refuge, in the echoing expanse of marsh and silver water, I realize it’s the season for falcon watching. I like that idea, of a pilgrimage to a marsh bordering the edges of a city, to search for raptors blading across the sky.

I start looking for this feeling when I go to Coney Island. By the sea, the city walls fall away. I have room to exist. I forget sometimes that the air can smell clear like this, salt and sand and breeze. When I look up, sea birds circle the air. From below, they look like airplanes, and I think of how the shape of planes were inspired by the anatomy of birds. I think of how the turbines catch birds and shred their wings and pilots see the damage only after the flight.

I don't know when it starts to become a ritual, but every Sunday, I take the train to Coney Island and bring flowers with me. I give them to the water, as a way of thanking the people who came before me, my mother's mother and her mother and for the ancestors I don't know. I nod to the seagulls, I pay my respect to the ferris wheel and hot dog stands and the crumpled litter, I feel affinity with the oblivious beachgoers. I used to always imagine Coney Island underwater. I imagined that’s what it would be, a thousand years in the future, when New York City is drowned by the ocean and there’ll be nothing left of us to prove we were here but the skeletal bones of skyscrapers.

Moving to this city has been an education in learning how capable the world is of both cruelty and kindness. I've been thinking about refusal; how much I said no, as I formed myself in resistance to the world. but now I want to start saying yes. I refuse apocalyptic scenarios of sinking islands. I want to say yes to stories where the islands live and go on. As I sit on the bench at Coney Island, facing the sea, I think of how I saw fireflies in the park this summer. How I reached out my hand and coaxed one onto my finger, how she glowed before she lifted her wings and took flight. I think of how the news once reported that when the locals cleaned up Versova beach, hundreds of thousands of sea turtles hatched for the first time in decades. Maybe the wave is an infinitely small part of an infinite number of lines, infinite moments radiating out simultaneously and out of sequence.

In this heartbeat, the laughter of happy families warms the boardwalk. On another coast, fireflies still illuminate fields. In the deep blue, whales call to their calves. In this city, pigeons shuffling in the church altars of abandoned churches, and raptors blading in a blue sky. Someone in Brooklyn told me she became an anthropologist of animal relations because of a story her friend told her in passing, of a killer whale that carried her dead calf on her back for three weeks along the coast. I want to tell my mom, our bloodline runs from the cloud people. An airplane born us from an archipelago to a landlocked state to another archipelago. From the sky we came from, to the sea we'll return.

I wonder if the best way to fight for my parents is to just – be the person I’m supposed to be. To not run away. To not leave them behind. To fight for the future we were supposed to have, that was stolen from us.

I want to tell my mom, our bloodline runs from the cloud people. An airplane born us from an archipelago to a landlocked state to another archipelago. From the sky we came from, to the sea we'll return.

There are things I've lost that I'm hoping the ocean will wash up and return to me. But maybe it'll bring me other things I didn't ask for. Everything is possible. Driftwood, or plastic bags, or glass bottles, or maybe another world. I imagine this world would be small, fragile, softly breathing. Maybe she'll come unannounced in the shape of a sea bird.

The albatross was once a bird without legs, that had no other purpose than to fly and fly. But now, the albatross is a bird that can touch down. She is a bird that conceded to gravity. When the albatross wings in the sky, I wonder if she looks down and sees the shimmering gold veins of cities sprawling across patchwork of forest and river, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Does she think, this earth, I love? When she wings even higher, can she see the tops of clouds? When she lands, I wonder if she also has love for Coney Island, the smell of funnel cake and men’s cologne and barbecue and the rocky, salty brine of the ocean. Love for a beach of broken bits of shell and shards of glass and cigarette stubs and kelp. Maybe the albatross is the secret of making a heaven on earth.

Mom, I'll write us into a story where the islands were birthed from a bird rising. I'll write you a world for us to live in, maybe not a forever place, but one where something else begins. We'll take a train to the ocean. We'll trade our hands for wings. We'll look at the tops of clouds, we'll come back and we won't be the same again.

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bitcofun · 1 year

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This is a viewpoint editorial by Scott Worden, an engineer, a lawyer and the creator of BTC Trusts." I've been dealing with a brand-new electronic money system that's totally peer-to-peer, without any relied on 3rd party."-- Satoshi Nakamoto It's one of those ideal fall days in Colorado, and I'm sitting beyond a club in the late afternoon. I'm meeting a fellow bitcoiner, a guy I fulfilled in Austin at the end of this summertime. As the sun fell back the mountains, the sky turned orange, setting the ideal background for vibrant bitcoin discussion. As we ticked down the normal list of whatever we settled on-- censorship is bad, red meat is excellent, and so on,-- I made an offhand remark about wanting more organizations would accept bitcoin as payment. "Well I do not, why would you wish to part with your sats?" was the reply he tossed back. The ramification, naturally, is that a real Bitcoiner worths satoshis more than anything else on the planet. Why would you trade them for groceries, tee shirts or beer? "Haven't you became aware of Laslo Hanyecz? That fool traded 10,000 bitcoin for a number of pizzas. I'm not duplicating that error. Speak to me when bitcoin strikes $200 k, then perhaps it would make good sense." My brand-new good friend isn't alone with this line of thinking. It's a belief that's proffered by folks like Michael Saylor and others in the HODL neighborhood. They'll embrace, " The scarcest possession on the planet is Bitcoin. It's digital gold," " Buying bitcoin resembles acquiring residential or commercial property in Manhattan 100 years back", and "Don't offer your bitcoin!" At the exact same time, there is an instinctive acknowledgment that if bitcoin can't ever be traded for a great or service, it in impact has no worth, no matter what rate is flashing on the BLOCKCLOCK in the workplace. I call this the HODLer's problem. But is this actually a predicament? Are these mantras, as respected as they are, constant with the spirit of Satoshi's development? Does the expansion of the Lightning Network and non-custodial mobile wallets that our moms and dads (or kids) can intuitively run need us to develop our understanding of Bitcoin's worth proposal? Personally, I think the time is now to stop considering bitcoin as just a shop of worth and start to conceive it mainly as a circulating medium ... that likewise takes place to save worth much better than any property in the world. In case you weren't currently taking note, here's a couple of reasons. Privacy " Bitcoin would be practical for individuals who do not have a charge card or do not wish to utilize the cards they have."-- Satoshi Nakamoto The time to begin leaving the system is right now. The signal has actually never ever been more powerful. Today we reside in a world where the fiat system can: Close your savings account for politically inaccurate perspectives Report your weapon purchases to police Implement fines for speech they do not like Confiscate your cash if you contribute to a cause they do not like All of this is taking place today, and it is most likely simply the suggestion of the iceberg In a retail system where money deals are ending up being significantly limited and troublesome, most of huge banks, credit companies and payment systems have actually given in to the needs of a federal government that appears to have an existential stake in managing our habits Naturally, bitcoin isn't a remedy to censorship-- a minimum of how it's most frequently bought and exchanged today. The Canadian Trucker Protest revealed us that a federal government dedicated to reducing the voice of their people will go to nearly any length to do so, and at the same time taught us that certified exchanges and chain analysis strategies can be extremely reliable in blacklisting addresses and even determining donors. These vulnerabilities will require to be gotten rid of in order to supply a more censorship-free currency-of-exchange. By negotiating in bitcoin with

peers and merchants for daily products and services as frequently as possible, we incentivize others to both accept and negotiate in bitcoin. Through numbers alone we can render the bitcoin economy more robust, decentralized and challenging to censor. A neighborhood that values personal privacy will naturally select to embrace non-custodial wallets, take part in collective deals and prevent KYC exchanges. Growing and informing this neighborhood has actually never ever been more crucial. Convenience And Autonomy" With e-currency based upon cryptographic evidence, without the requirement to rely on a third-party intermediary, cash can be protected and deals uncomplicated"-- Satoshi Nakamoto A typical counter-argument to negotiating in bitcoin is that it's either too complex or too sluggish compared to swiping a charge card. This is just no longer real. Today, any beginner-level Bitcoiner can download Muun Wallet and within minutes send out Lightning billings to customers for payment through QR Code. Coinkite has an NFC gadget that enables users to sign for deals with a tap of their card. There are more examples, and much more to come. The appeal of these services is that they are totally non-custodial, i.e., there is no main 3rd party that manages your coins. The software application is simply allowing deals to be transmitted to the network. Lightning deals clear instantly, with charges an order of magnitude lower than Visa or Mastercard's conventional 2-- 3%. (For example, it just recently cost me about $.60 in charges to send out the equivalent of $700 USD to Wrich Ranches recently for beef. That exact same deal would have cost the merchant around $20 had I utilized Visa.) In addition, these deals promote autonomy on both sides. Lightning deals, like whatever else backed by Bitcoin's proof-of-work, happen without counterparty threat. Eliminated from the formula is the danger that a customer will not pay his costs, disagreement a charge, not have sufficient cash in his account or declare personal bankruptcy down the roadway. All of this threat manifests as transactional ineffectiveness, and its expenses are straight or indirectly taken in by merchants and customers. A trustless system like bitcoin is hence more effective, minimizing threat for merchants, and eventually rendering products and services more economical for accountable customers." I'm sure that in 20 years there will either be huge deal volume or no volume."-- Satoshi Nakamoto We would succeed to think about all of our deals in regards to bitcoin. When cash is genuinely a shop of worth, we take a determined technique to costs and represent the prospective boost in worth that cash might have in the future. This is rational, and uses whether you're investing sats or dollars. The site bitcoinorshit.com drives this point house rather candidly. There's likewise the story of Laszlo Hanyecz, who in 2010, notoriously bought 2 pizzas for 10,000 BTC. In result, Laszlo paid a number of billion U.S. dollars for pizza, if we consider BTC's market price over a years later on. It surprises me though, when Bitcoiners get on Laszlo for being financially ignorant, and utilize this example to support their position that bitcoin must never ever be invested. The basic fact is that everybody who purchased pizza in 2010 successfully invested countless bitcoin on it The only method to prevent this would be to consume something less costly or go starving. The truth is, every fiat deal we make is a direct trade off for possibly increasing our stack. As soon as we comprehend this, the general public debate over costs bitcoin on services or products is essentially dead. The frustrating bulk people require to trade financial energy for products and services to endure in today's society. The only debate that stays is which service or products take precedence over the chance to obtain more sats. It's a choice that is individual and special for each people. The response needs to be thought

about separately and regardless of whether that financial energy is invested in sats, dollars or yen-- it's just the financial energy conserved-- that which is left over-- that matters when it pertains to the HODLer's problem. We are all most likely to conserve more BTC if we start negotiating more in BTC. For something, when we handle a sound cash that is a tested store-of-value, we're more apt to be critical in our purchases. Sure, we actually desire the brand-new iPhone, however is it worth 5 million sats if you anticipate a sat to be worth a cent at some point? We may choose to wait another year prior to we update and maintain those sats for the future. On the other hand all of us require food, shelter and clothes. If I have an option in between purchasing my meat from Costco with my Visa card, or purchasing direct from a rancher who accepts bitcoin, why would not I pick the latter? Today, the variety of merchants that accept bitcoin is fairly little, though growing progressively. As bitcoiners start to comprehend that their "invest dollars, conserve sats," theory m ight be detrimental, higher numbers will start to look for products from merchants that accept bitcoin for payment. This spike in need will drive merchant adoption, possibly moving the timeline for a bitcoin economy substantially to the. More Exchange Equals More Value" As the variety of users grows, the worth per coin boosts. It has the capacity for a favorable feedback loop; as users increase, the worth increases, which might bring in more users to make the most of the increasing worth."-- Satoshi Nakamoto This is where we sit today. There's a growing variety of speculators and bitcoin lovers who have actually purchased into the concept that Bitcoin is an authentic shop of worth. This neighborhood even more thinks that the possession's shortage will undoubtedly provide to a supply capture that will trigger the rate to rocket upwards. Sure, it's possible that this might occur through the simple act of HODLing, however as Satoshi Nakamoto explains, the worth increases when the varieties of users increase. Does purchasing and holding a possession certify as usage? If the radiance behind bitcoin is allowing peer-to-peer deals without a third-party intermediary, are we truly leveraging that ability by specifically stacking and not costs? I think that bitcoin requires to end up being a real cash in order for it to completely understand its possible as a shop of worth. Because worth is not stemmed from deficiency alone-- need is essential to bitcoin's cost. If bitcoin's energy ends up being the driving force for its need, it is at this minute that its real capacity as a shop of worth will be recognized. Today's financial and political background may simply be the inspiration all of us require. Up until bitcoin ends up being a vital part of our everyday financial activity, it is apt to be valued along with other speculative properties, and subject to the impulses of the very same fiat system it was implied to supplant. This is a visitor post by Scott Worden Viewpoints revealed are totally their own and do not always show those of BTC Inc or Bitcoin Magazine. Read More

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astranomic · 2 years

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✰ it’s time to wake up, NANCY DREW, you’ve been in cryosleep for too long and the people of HER INTERACTIVE: NANCY DREW miss you. when you went into slumber you were TWENTY FIVE years old, your pronouns are SHE/HER, and you VOLUNTEERED for the cambria program. now that you’ve awoken, your position as a PILOT is waiting for you. remember, the cambria one thanks you ! — stats . headcanons . mus.

THE BASICS:

NAME: nancy susannah austin drew

ALIAS(ES): nance, nan, kestrel

AGE: twenty five

PRONOUNS & GENDER: she/her, cis female

BIRTHDAY & ZODIAC: december 17th, sagittarius

FACECLAIM: kennedy mcmann

AESTHETICS: the amusement of someone that knows something you don’t, a flash of red hair turning a corner, journals filled to the brim in neat handwriting, article headlines about a world famous girl detective

A DEEPER LOOK:

BACKGROUND: nancy is mainly based on the her interactive: nancy drew games with some life details filled in from the nancy drew files books! despite the fc, she is not show based, but i would be happy to poke at in show dynamics! the gist is that she’s a detective and started her career when she was about 15 or 16, since then she’s gone on to become internationally known for her sleuthing prowess. i follow everything pretty compliantly up until the latest game, midnight in salem! post that nancy was working on moving out of river heights into the city when she came onto the cambria instead.

WEAPONS: n/a

POWERS/ABILITIES/SKILLS: martial arts and self defense training, otherwise n/a aside from her brain

GREATEST STRENGTH: confidence. nancy trusts herself and her skills and her intuition and she doesn’t hesitate when she thinks she’s on the right course.

GREATEST WEAKNESS/FLAW: she can be very impulsive!

ONE FEAR: not being quick enough and someone getting hurt because of it.

ONE HOPE: that she can continue to do good through her real true passion!

HEADCANON(S): as i add them i’ll put them onto a page here. for now, some silly little canon info (a.) nancy has actually been a licensed pilot since she was 16. as she got older she got licensed to fly private and commercial as those things became available, but she’s piloted a lot of planes. (b.) nancy’s mom was a spy working against a big organization named revenant before her death when nancy was ten. the organization kate drew worked for was named cathedral, and nancy didn’t find out she was a spy until she was about 21 and also had to go against revenant though she didn’t entirely shut it down. her dad is a lawyer that’s also pretty sought after nationally. (c.) back home nancy collected knick knacks from all her travels, which she misses. she also had journals upon journals filled with logs and notes and just general diary type writing. i feel she’s probably cataloguing her experience here with a similar intensity.

THE QUESTIONNAIRE:

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT BEING DROPPED INTO THE CAMBRIA PROGRAM? ARE THEY EXCITED? SUSPICIOUS? CONFUSED?: of course she’s suspicious! but overwhelmingly, she’s fascinated. i wish i could say nancy is at all distracted by not having her friends and family around, but honestly she’s viewing this as an opportunity and is mostly very curious and looking forward to whatever opportunity presents itself to be nosy and learn more.

WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER HOPE TO SEE THE MOST DURING THE CAMBRIA ONE’S JOURNEY?: honestly everything. anything. she loves learning.

IF YOUR CHARACTER COULD BRING ONE THING OR PERSON FROM HOME, WHAT WOULD IT BE?: this is a hard one! either bess marvin or george fayne, ideally both.

#i. you have that help people gene: intro.#cambria:intro #AND DONE

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adventuresinqueue · 2 years

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☄ — Some people say that Ezra Rillin Greenberg could be Ronen Rubinstein ’s doppelgänger, but is really a 28 year old Firefighter + Paramedic . They mainly identified as a Bi-Sexual Cis-Male , and described to be charming, intelligent, overachiever, & ambivert .

TAGS ➾

Wanted Plots || Photographs || Conversations || Musing/Aesthetics || Relationship Page

■ . B A C K G R O U N D . ■

TW: Mentions of Child Abandonment

Ezra and his three years younger brother grew up without their father in their lives. His mom raised them on her own, and as Ezra grew older, he saw the more she struggled with the two boys. When he was 13, he started to help out around the house more, even helping his baby brother with his homework, walking with him to and from school, and helping with making dinner. No, he was no gourmet chef, but he knew how to make a mean Mac n’ Cheese, Grilled Cheese, and heat soup their mom would buy. Whatever way Ezra could help his mother, he would do the very best he could because now he is the man of the house, and that is his actual duty.

When he was 16, Ezra finally got his driver’s license and got a job/volunteer job at the hospital with his mom. Well, in the hospital kitchen, but it was something to get him out of the house. Plus more ways he could help his mom. He did break loose and go to high school parties and hangouts with his friends every so often, but he was more of a homebody. Thus, he would only stay for a few hours before heading back home, in time to pick up lunch for his mom’s overnight shifts, and home to relieve his next-door neighbor from babysitting his sleeping brother.

Eventually, when he turned 17 and graduated high school, Ezra knew precisely what he wanted to do - follow in his mother’s footsteps, well, sort of - he wanted to help people. However, he wasn’t sure he could do what nurses and doctors do on a daily, exhausting basis.

Setting his sights on Salem, Massachusetts - Ezra went through a cardiopulmonary resuscitation program to get his certification and apply to the Paramedic position at Salem Fire Department. Which he didn’t realize would be slightly more complicated than he realized, but also fun and thrilling. However, Ezra couldn’t lie about the most challenging part of being away from his mom and 15-year-old brother. Don’t get him wrong, he realizes that it’s better for his mom that now she only has one son to focus on instead of two, but he still worries over her and his baby brother. So, every night when he got home from his shifts, he would call them and check up on them, wishing that they could follow him out to Salem, but he knew better than to push a big move on his mom.

Now being 27, he decided to pick up dual responsibilities within his career - he chose to be a paramedic and a firefighter. Still even having small thoughts about moving his small family in Myrtle Beach to a town he’s grown to adore.

■ . I M P O R T A N T . C O N N E C T I O N S. ■

♢ Little Brother — The Greenberg boys are the only sons of Elizabeth Greenberg & when they were both young, their father left them with no word nor warning. Thus, growing up, Ezra became a father figure and an older brother to his younger brother. The two are three years apart, and they are considerably close - more times than not, they seem as if they are best friends rather than brothers. There isn’t a day that goes by where Ezra doesn’t wish his mom and his brother would move to Salem with him. ♢ Ride -or- Die — Being a part of the Fire & Rescue team, there is an unspeakable bond. It’s a kind of bond with others that you didn’t have to say anything for the other person to know precisely what you are thinking. Well, Ezra had a bond like this with one person that was stronger over the others. The two are inseparable, and just about nothing could break them apart. ♢ Enemy to Frenemy — Like cats & dogs, detectives & lawyer - Ezra and the other despised one another. For a reason, at least he couldn’t remember; they just never typically got along since the moment he arrived in Salem. However, one day (through some “venue” or something), the two became friends. Not close nor necessarily good friends. Just friends - frenemies, more or less

#.ezras post.#.ezra.#.ezra photo.#.ezra convo.#.ezra musing aesthetic.#.ezra wanted.

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