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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 1

Summary: The first thought that comes to mind as he looks at the scene in front of him is: wow, she’s cute. The second thought is: holy shit, did she just flip a six foot, two hundred fifty pound man into the ground without blinking an eye?

Thank goodness there’s time for second… and third.. And fourth impressions?

Seriously, how many creepy people and criminals does this girl deal with on a daily basis?

1(you are here) | 2 | 3 | ao3

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Damian Wayne is sure that if his elder siblings were watching him right now, they would be screeching at him to go help the girl. But-- well. His siblings and his father aren’t watching, and he isn’t sure whether or not the girl needs his help. The weirdly hooded man who is rapidly closing in on her might just live in the same direction. Surely, this time, his instincts are wrong. He’s only following them for peace of mind. Nothing is going to happen.

Otherwise known as: Damian isn’t particularly feeling up to saving another girl outside of his Robin costume and then being come on to. Why girls always have to have a Thing for people who saved them, Damian will never understand. He can’t imagine attempting a relationship with somebody who saved him, though admittedly the pool of candidates of people who are superior to him in capability is small, and far too annoying or old for him to ever consider dating them. And even thinking about having a relationship with somebody who couldn’t take care of themselves gives him the chills.

This leads to a very contemplative two minutes of walking the same path that the girl and the hooded person were taking-- he is not following them--until the girl who is being stalked darts into an alleyway. Of course, the hooded person follows her.

Is she trying to get herself killed? Damian can’t believe the sheer idiocy of the girl. At least the last girl he saved hadn’t done anything as stupid; her attacker cornered her near her home. Gotham girls know better than to duck into random alleyways. There is too much crime in Gotham for anybody with self respect to be so dumb.

With a sigh, and a wish that his brothers and father hadn’t beat a moral conscious into him, he lopes over to the alleyway, expecting to have to break up whatever futile struggle the girl put up with her stalker, or maybe even knock out the guy because by now, she must either be unconscious or on her way to other unpleasant circumstances.

Except.

By the time he gets over to the alleyway, the girl walks out unscathed, phone pressed to her cheek.

“Yes, you should check 12th arrondissement, two streets down from the Opera Bastille. He’s 6 foot, blonde haired and brown eyed. Wearing a grey hoodie and adidas.” The girl brushes past him, blinked at his appearance, then continued on the phone. “No problem, officer.”

Damian looks into the alleyway and there the man is, head lolled to one side. Unconscious, probably. His hands are tied up with a pink plastic zip tie. He looks out of the alleyway, eyes trailing after the girl who just left. She barely reaches his shoulder. Maybe, Damian thinks drily, Parisian girls are different.

At least Damian won’t get another adoring fangirl today.

Damian is sitting at a coffee shop across from the Louvre. It’s overpriced, and the coffee tastes awful, but it’s still coffee, and he’s tired. He’s here to check out the akuma that the Paris media keep reporting about, even though the Justice league of America shouldn’t have to deal with Europe’s problems, and also largely believed that it was a publicity stunt on Mayor Bourgeois' behalf.

Now, the Justice League of America isn’t really sure what is happening, but surely it can’t be that bad if the city has no damage, right?

What a joke. Damian has been here three days (count them-- three) and he is almost sure that he has been transported into some alternate dimension where some little kid’s imagination went wild and plopped the ever loving conundrum of Paris, France into Damian’s hands.

On the first day he arrived, there was a pigeon akuma-- apparently, one of the more frequent ones that popped up. Ladybug-- one of two consistent Parisian Heroes-- made quick work of him once she arrived on the scene, but it took her a while to arrive. Almost a whole half hour. Which meant that the streets of Paris were filled with bird poop and flooded with more pigeons than Damian knew existed, and he lived in Gotham. The other hero, Chat Noir, arrived after Ladybug, but handled the situation more warily. He later found out that this was due to the superhero being allergic to feathers, as witnessed by a video on this site called the Ladyblog.

Due to some freak magic power called the Miraculous Cure that Ladybug called after her battles, the streets had been blessedly cleaned, and the pigeons flew back to their mostly hidden existence. The world was right, once more. Then, on the second day, he tried and failed to save that weird girl who knocked out a man who had a good hundred pounds on her. He’s not sure that tried and failed is applicable to the situation, as the girl seemed competent enough to take care of an issue like that on her own.

Today, another akuma appeared. His name is Deliverer, a postman who had one too many customers complain about a package not being delivered in a timely manner.

Damian isn’t really sure how he felt about having people turning into villains over such trivial things. He is also no longer sure whether he is the best choice for this mission. His emotions tend to run hot, and there is the chance that he might become compromised. Because if there are people out there turning into villains over not being able to feed some pigeons, there is no way that Damian’s own annoyance with his family and the random people on the streets won’t be taken advantage of. However, out of his family, it’s not like there’s any better choice. Dick, maybe, but he’s busy with Kor’i and his daughter, and they won’t want to move to France. And he doubts that the superheroes of Paris want a metahuman trying to solve the case in Paris after seeing how much damage a normal citizen can do when akumatized.

It only takes ten minutes for Ladybug and Chat Noir to arrive on the scene this time. Whether it is because it is a new akuma, or whether it is because they were closer to the scene of the crime, Damian can only guess. He thinks it to be a combination of the two; Mr. Pigeon is a very common akuma and the people deal with his issues quite often, thus he is probably lower on the priority list. The heroes have their own lives to deal with, Damian is sure.

In any case, Damian rushes to the akuma when he gets an alert from the Ladyblog and is able to catch the tail end of a battle where Ladybug doesn’t even have to use her Lucky Charm. She just takes the clipboard after some bizarre yoyo moves and snaps the clipboard over her knee. When the butterfly flies out of the clipboard, she purifies it. Easy breezy, and no involvement from Chat Noir, yet again. The cat looks tired and Ladybug says something to him, her posture reminiscent of a mother scolding her child, after which he flees the scene.

Then, Damian gets caught up in a wave of exhaustion. Forgoing sleep for the past two days trying to catch himself up on the situation in Paris before making any major reports back to the league will do that. He needs coffee, badly, which is why he finds himself in this tourist trap coffee shop with some of the worst coffee-- wait. That girl seems familiar.

He spends a few seconds trying to place her. Short, pig-tails, part asian, blue hair and blue eyes. The girl he saw coming out of the alleyway yesterday. Of course. She is on her phone walking slowly and frowning, purse hanging at her side. Damian traces her movements. She is naturally graceful, but closes in on herself. He looks a little closer. Her eyes look red. Perhaps she is dealing with the aftermath of yesterday’s situation.

From the side, a guy darts out at her, reaching for her purse. The girl drops her phone to the floor in shock, clutches her purse, and then side-swipes the guy. A hand to his neck, a foot to his knees, and then her arms pulling his behind his back. She pulls a zip tie from her purse and ties his hands up, then picks up her phone almost exasperatedly and before calling someone.

Vaguely curious, Damian picks up his coffee and approaches the girl and criminal. Several others have done the same, only to be waved off with a blindingly bright smile and a yes, she’s fine, thank you very much.

“Need help?” More of a courtesy than anything else.

“No thanks, Monsieur.” The girl looks down at the time on her phone, then scrunches her face up. Freckles dot her pale skin. A text message alert from her phone causes her to scowl, and she looks down at her phone, then back up at Damian.

“Actually, could you do me a favor? I’ve really got to get back with my class, and I don’t really want to leave this guy in the middle of the street like this. I just called the police, and they should be here any minute. Stay with him?”

It’s not like his research on Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t wait a few minutes.

“Sure.”

Then, the girl runs off without another glance backwards. True to her word, the police do arrive a few minutes later.

“Where’s the girl that called?” The policeman asked with a furrowed brow.

“She had to leave.” Damian eyes the man, who has barely looked at him. The policeman is assessing the scene, taking in the handiwork of the pigtailed girl.

“Half-asian, blue eyes, freckles?”

“Yes.”

The policeman handcuffs the criminal. “That poor girl. She always seems to attract these street thugs. It’s really a blessing that she can take care of herself.”

This piques Damian’s interest. “This happens often?”

“She’s almost like an urban legend, at this point. Whenever we find a criminal tied up with a neon pink zip tie, we know it’s her. A real shame, too. She’s such a nice girl.”

He’s not sure if nice was the word to use. She looked slightly stressed and harried. Polite enough, but she certainly has no trouble putting guys twice her size down.

“Well, thank you for your help.” The policeman tips his cap and makes his way to the patrol car.

Damian goes back to drinking his coffee and scrolling through the Ladyblog on his phone.

“I’ve heard you do this quite often.” Damian appears at the girl’s side like a ghost, but she doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even flinch. Just takes a step back to reposition herself and gives him a side eye. Tactically, a good decision if he is another potential attacker. She created just enough distance that it would make it harder to attack her, but had moved in a smooth fashion that said she wasn’t going to run and was prepared to stand her ground. Her body half faces him, like she is ready to put up her guard at any moment.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Her victim this time is unconscious. Damian isn’t exactly sure what happened, but the quivering girl only a few feet away from them made him think that the girl in front of him has a bit of vigilante in her, because it is clear that this time she hadn’t acted in self defense.

In an act of goodwill, Damian takes his hands out of his pockets slowly, showing that he doesn’t have anything to hide. In response, the girl-- who Damian mentally decides to call Pigtails, since she’s had the same ridiculously childish hairstyle for their past three encounters-- relaxes, just a little, and turns her attention to the crying girl instead.

“Do you want me to call the police?”

Pigtails eyes flicker towards the man on the ground, who is what Damian approximates to be six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds, and then towards the crying girl looks to be in her mid twenties.

Pigtails hasn’t tied this one up, yet, but she has flipped him onto his stomach. Judging by the lingering look that she gives the man’s unbound hands, and the ziptie that she pulls out of her small purse, she’s ready and willing to tie him up at the slightest movement, or at the other girl’s command.

“I’m going to tie him up, okay?”

The other girl manages a yes, please. And so, Pigtails brandishes her ziptie, directs Damian to call the police; tell them they’re on Barbes Boulevard.

Damian assesses the situation before the operator comes on. The would-be victim is somewhere around twenty four, is slender and full of what his brother, Dick, would call French girl charm before getting hit by Cass or Barbara. She has brown hair that’s a mess on the left side of her hair, probably from the man grabbing her on that side, and is lightly tanned. There are bruises on her wrist and on her cheek that are quite visible and continuing to darken.

Now that Pigtails has tied him up, Damian nudges the man’s face with his foot to see what he looks like. Average looking at best, and he reeks of alcohol. Damian crinkles his nose. Midday drinking is not a good look on anyone. His clothes are also cheap. Fast fashion, but bad.

Then, there’s Pigtails herself. Evidently she trusted him enough to look after the brute, because after giving him a once over and nodding, she goes over to the other girl to comfort her. Damian is sure that Pigtails can’t be much older than himself, but he's not sure. She has a sort of timelessness about her, between the lightness in her step and the sharp, intelligent look in her eyes. Her sense of fashion is simple but chic, and whatever she is wearing looks pretty high end. Designer, even.

After relaying the information that he has gathered to the operator, he is told to please wait there with the victim and the attacker, and if he could have the other party involved stay there as well, that would be fantastic.

Pigtails is surprisingly good at calming people down. The other girl seemed seconds away from a complete breakdown and was rocking back and forth, muttering to herself before Pigtails started talking to her. Already, the other girl’s crying turns to hiccups, and then stops. She is then embraced by Pigtails, circles rubbed soothingly on her back, and a gentle smile that makes Damian purse his lips. He doesn’t see that kind of smile often in Gotham. Everybody is harder there, less willing to help. If they see somebody in danger, most times citizens hurry on their way because they don’t want to get involved. When citizens do get involved, their aftercare is fairly rough, if there is any aftercare at all. Even as a vigilante, Robin didn’t often comfort victims afterwards. He helped them to police stations or the hospital occasionally, but never stopped to talk with them.

By the time the police get there, Pigtails has the girl standing with a watery smile on her face. What a feat. Damian wonders, briefly, if having Pigtails’ social capabilities would help victims back in Gotham.

“Ah, Marinette,” the police officer smiles warmly. “We meet again.”

“Officer Raincomprix,” Pigtails inclines her head.

The officer is of stocky build, red headed and green-eyed. He cuffs the man, lugs him to the back seat of his cruiser, locks the door, and then comes back out. “I’d like to take your statements, now.”

Damian learns that the attacker, Fraser Barbot, was in several of Nicolette Deanne’s master classes this year. Both were studying business with an emphasis on fashion, which resulted in a lot of time spent together. Fraser thought that a relationship was the inevitable next step. She refused, because besides their master’s emphasis, they didn’t really have much in common. She also just wasn’t interested in him. He became slightly more hostile to her after her rejection. Then, as the months went by, they started vying for a lot of the same job opportunities. Nicolette had gotten the most prestigious one, and had many other companies attempting to persuade her into joining their business instead. Fraser had gotten very few, and was convinced that Nicolette had stolen those job opportunities away from him, had seduced her potential employers, and asked her why she wouldn’t do him if she was so willing to put out.

That was when Marinette had come in. She was walking to a fabric store when she heard the commotion and saw Fraser hitting Nicolette. By the time she got over to them, Nicolette had already acquired several bruises on her arms, shoulder, and face. After arriving, she promptly knocked him out.

By the time the three of them finish their statements, nearly ten minutes have passed, and Officer Raincomprix bids them farewell.

“If you ever feel like you’re in danger again, Miss Deanne, feel free to call. Since you want to press charges, we’ll be in contact with you soon. Call us if more than three days go by without hearing from us. A taxi has been called for you, so you can get wherever you were going in peace.”

Officer Raincomprix turns to Marinette and Damian with a slightly sunnier disposition. “And thank you two for helping. Especially you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you ever change your mind about wanting to go into law enforcement, just give me a call. I should really have Sabrina do whatever training you’re doing, because it’s clearly effective!”

Marinette laughs. “The bakery is magic. Between lifting bags of flour, running around the city for deliveries, and Maman’s cooking, anybody could do what I do. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the studio down the street from our school, though, so you could have her look into that.”

This, Damian thinks, is such a bald-faced lie he almost chokes on his own spit. There is no sort of magic food that imbues a person with the ability to fight like Pigtails does and lifting flour bags in a bakery doesn’t suddenly allow people to take down people with ease. She has to have had some professional training, though if he is being honest, her movements feel like they have more of an origin in street fighting than they do in any martial arts.

She’s remarkably good at lying, mixing jokes with statements that had the possibility of truth. Maybe Damian is just being paranoid. Maybe she trained at some studio that she didn’t want to mention and the studio taught amazing self defense. Maybe she is just an excellent study. Somehow, Damian doubts that was the truth of the matter, but there isn’t much of a reason for Damian to spend his precious time determining the reason why this girl lies to policemen. It’s her business. It doesn’t concern him.

Then, Officer Raincomprix heads back to the police cruiser and Nicolette gets into the taxi she ordered for herself, looking worlds better. Marinette turns to him with a smile. The smile is so blindingly bright and pure that he suspects it lets the girl get away with a lot of things. “Thanks for the save. It was a lot easier to calm Nicolette down since you handled the call. I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.”

Damian nods in return to her wave and smile. “No problem. I guess this answers my earlier question. You do get caught up with criminals quite often.”

She flushes, and it makes the freckles on her pale skin show even more. “What do you mean by that?”

“You seemed to be on very good terms with that police officer.”

“Oh, that. He’s a classmate’s dad. I’ve seen him around plenty of times.” She waves him off.

A very good liar, indeed. Pigtails keeps to half truths and vague statements. Damian gets the feeling that she definitely saw him more often in the capacity of a police officer than he did as a friend’s father. Understandable to lie to him, though. He is just a stranger, and he certainly doesn’t go around telling every person on the street his life story. Maybe Pigtails values privacy, just like he does.

The movement of the police cruiser catches his eye. Fraser has woken up, and he is not happy about being handcuffed in a police cruiser; they can hear him screaming at Officer Raincomprix from the street. Marinette’s eyes jump to the cruiser as well, eyes narrowing as she sees a butterfly approach the cruiser.

“Oh, for--” Marinette glances at Damian, at the butterfly, and then at Fraser. She makes a split decision. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This is not going to be pretty.”

“What do you--” Pigtails is pulling his arm with more strength than he thought possible. If this is just her pulling him, it’s no small wonder that she fares so easily against all her opponents. She definitely has strength behind her small frame.

“Fraser is probably going to get akumatized and we have to get you to the nearest shelter. Then, you’re going to wait there until the all-clear alert is given, got it?” She pushes him into a building, says by way of explanation to the bewildered looking employees, “Akuma,” and then rushes off, saying, “I’m going to go home, because clearly I’m not going to be able to go shopping for fabric today.”

Damian doesn’t stay in the shelter that Pigtails has so kindly guided him to, and there are a few people who look at him in confusion; people should be entering the building if there’s an akuma attack, not leaving. But Damian has a job to do and watching the battles up close is much better than watching the footage on the Ladyblog, which, in recent years, has turned into little more than poor speculations and attempts to stoke relationships between heroes that haven’t been used in years. When he looks at the information the website had up years ago, Damian finds a bunch of interviews that clearly haven’t been fact checked done with a girl named Lila, who is in the class he’s going to be transferring into, and despite the fact that they’ve been taken down since then, he doesn’t trust most of the Ladyblog’s information without video evidence. Not the most reliable news source about akuma, however, most other blogs he found didn’t have any videos taken up close. The older footage of past battles on the Ladyblog were pretty good quality, but they had gotten worse and worse, which meant that Damian and the Justice League didn’t have a clear picture about the heroes’ or villain’s capabilities.

By the time Damian arrives, back on the scene, Ladybug is already there in her red and black spotted glory. She has pulled Officer Raincomprix to safety.

“I am Shackled! Burdened by unfair double standards that allow incompetent tramps to get jobs before other, clearly more superior candidates do and by the corrupt justice system that wants me to go to jail, I desire what I should have been given to begin with! The affections of ladies clearly below me, and jobs that were made for me.” Convenient. If every villain explains their modus operandi to the heroes, it is probably easier to take them down. “Give me your Miraculous, Ladybug!”

The hero scoffs, avoids the chains that Shackled controls, and crouches atop a car a fairly good distance away.

Chat Noir lands, quick to make a pun. “If you feel so tied down by society, why don’t you just bug off? No woman wants to deal with somebody who has such a su-paw-riority complex.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes, but allows the pun. “Chat Noir’s right. You need to get taught a lesson on ethics and morality. If a woman got a job and you didn’t, that just means she’s better than you. Your interviewers probably saw that you had an awful attitude and work ethic. Nobody wants such a toxic person in their work environment.”

“Don’t you mean clawful, m’lady?”

“Chat,” Ladybug reprimands. She tosses her yoyo in the air. “Let’s get this over with. Dealing with misogynistic akumas is annoying. Just talking to them uses up all of my common sense.”

She throws her yoyo in the air, and calls, “Lucky Charm!”

A pack of zipties falls from the sky. Ladybug groans. “You have got to be kidding me. Zip ties? Really? You couldn’t have given me anything else? This is going to take forever. Chat, grab some of his chains and zip tie them together.”

“You’ve got to be yanking my chain, m’lady. We can just take him out without using the Lucky Charm.”

“No, the akuma is in the chain that’s between his handcuffs. And we can’t get there unless we immobilize all of these.” She gestures around wildly, then begins the process of grabbing chains and zip tying them together. As she continues to tie more and more together, it begins to get harder and harder for Shackled to move them as he wants, and a butterfly mask flashes over the akuma’s face.

After almost thirty minutes of tying and avoiding the few free flying chains that there are left, Chat Noir and Ladybug finally get all of the chains in one messy bundle that is too heavy for Shackled to control. At one point in the battle, Ladybug darts towards Chat Noir, a concerned look on her face, but he brushes her off and they continue working. Chat Noir cataclysms the chain between Shackled’s hands, and sure enough, a butterfly flies out. Damian watches as Ladybug shoves the butterfly into her yoyo and feels his eye twitch as the black-purple butterfly comes out white. He hates magic. It makes things so much more complicated than they should be.

“Bien Joue,” the two superheroes say to each other before heading off in opposite directions.

Damian sticks to his first thought. Whatever is going on in Paris is definitely the equivalent of some kid having a series of very weird dreams.

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All the way up to ch 4 is already posted on ao3! I’ll be posting this fic daily up until i catch up :) also how do you decide where to put the keep reading for all you experienced tumblr users? idk where a good place to break is

#miraculous ladybug #daminette #dc #mlb x dc #sbgs #ch 1 #maribat #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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keywestlou · 3 years

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TRUMP NOMINATED FOR NOBEL PEACE PRIZE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW

There is still a humor in things Donald Trump.

He has been nominated for the second consecutive year for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Wonder of wonders!

I am not concerned about his winning. It would be both a surprise and shock.

Son in law Jared Kushner was nominated last week for the Award also.

Neither will win.

The nomination is no big deal. Each year 300-400 persons are nominated. Only 1 or 2 will win. Anyone of stature may do the nominating. A college professor or officer, a political leader, are examples.

This year Trump was nominated by an Estonian member of the European Parliament Jaak Madison. His reasons for the nomination were two fold. First, Trump is the first American President in 30 years who did not start a war. Second, Trump signed several peace agreements in the Middle East which helped provide stability in the region and peace.

I am 85 years old. Still waiting for my coronavirus vaccine shot. Different County locales have been opened for the purpose of providing the shots. The problem is there has never been enough shots.

It has been announced the College of Florida Keys will be providing vaccine shots beginning sunday. The College is going to work off the Health Department’s application list in determining in what order the shots will be given.

Sunday’s shots will be provided those 65 and older. I should qualify. I qualified when the age was 75 and could not get it.

Four hundred vaccines are available for sunday. It is expected that by the weekend, 300 additional shots will be received.

Each a pittance. Better than none, however.

Let’s hope all goes as planed. Let’s hope that all such as myself 20 years over the minimal age limit finally get the shot.

The Democratic Party concerns me. They have for years. Especially since Obama took office.

Democrats are good guys. They do not know how to fight dirty.

Republicans fight dirty. Democrats not. They continue to be legislative gentlemen in the tradition of old.

No way to fight.

It is tit for tat and a bit more. The Democrats have to learn to be like Republicans when it comes to fighting dirty. The Republicans need to be taught a lesson. Hit them first. If not, hit them harder when they hit first.

Otherwise, nothing is ever going to get done.

Trump’s impeachment trial before the Senate begins tuesday. The Trump defense is two fold. One is he is no longer President and therefore cannot be tried for impeachment. The other, and a new one, is that Trump continues to believe he is still President and has done nothing wrong. Therefore, he cannot be impeached.

Two inconsistencies meeting. A Catch-22 situation. The trial will be an interesting one.

The CDC announced friday all persons using public transportation in the U.S. must wear masks. The masks must be 2 layers which I assume means 2 layers of material. Additionally, the masks must be secured to the head.

Violation will result in arrest.

Oregon is a first in the nation. Oregon has decriminalized all illegal drugs. Such includes cocaine, heroin,and meth. Persons caught using drugs can be apprehended. However they can opt for rehabilitation rather than jail.

Today Santorini! A marvel! One of the most beautiful places in the world, if not the most. Hope you enjoy.

Day 8…..Greece the First Time

Posted on June 4, 2012 by Key WestLou

When I saw Key West for the first time twenty five years ago, I knew almost immediately it was a place I wanted to be. So too with Santorini.

You just know.

My day yesterday started with an early morning flight from Athens to Santorini. Olympic Airlines. A one half hour flight. On a big jet. Packed.

The plane took off. The pilot said we are heading to an elevation of 17,000 feet. Once we reached that point, the plane started its descent. You got it! The plane ride was an ascent to 17,000 feet and then an immediate descent into the Santorini airport.

Again young stewardesses. That is the word. Stewardesses. Thin. No more than size 4s. Hair swept back and up. For the little hats they perched on their heads when we landed.

Nikos met me at the airport. I never had met nor known Nikos before. Nikos and his wife Maria own some cave houses which they rent out. I was booked into one of those cave houses.

Nikos about 5′ 6″. Thin. Muscle bound. I would estimate around 60. Skin tough and weather beaten by the sun.

He embraced me like a long lost friend. A mutual acquaintance had arranged for me to stay at Nikos’ place. Nikos pointed out on the drive to his caves that he never picks anyone up at the airport. He was only doing so because a mutual friend had told him to take good care of me. I was grateful

The formal name of the caves is Filotera Cave Houses. I do not know what filotera means. I googled it and could only come up with a list of motels, hotels and other cave accommodations on Santorini. Everything is filotera here.

The ride from the airport was an experience. Uncomfortable.

Nikos’ place was an hour drive from the airport. Straight up a hill. Mountain may be a better description. A very narrow two lane road with a drop off on the upward side thousands of feet into the sea. I was up up and away.

Drivers speed here. They come at each other at horrendous speeds. The road was very curvy. At every turn I saw an accident in the making. Especially when a bus came at us!

The views were spectacular. The heights dramatic. I have never been closer to God. In more ways than one.

Maria met us. Her appearance as her husband’s, except Maria was shorter and on the heavy side. It was hugs and kisses all around. I met the whole family. Daughter and grandchildren.

It was Maria’s birthday. She sent a piece of her birthday cake to my cave.

These caves are another world.

Santorini was once one large island. About 1,500 years before Christ (everything is before Christ in this part of the world), there was a huge volcanic explosion. Reportedly the largest ever known to man before and since. Broke Santorini into several islands. Santorini the largest.

The very first volcano was a long time back. Six hundred fifty thousand years. ago. The most recent in 1950.

Natural tragedy appears common to the area. There was a violent earthquake in 1956 which destroyed many old structures on the island. Earthquakes and I are becoming common place on this trip.

One side of Santorini ended up being a very high and steep cliff running from the heavens thousands of feet into the ocean. Caves developed. Home for me is one of those caves. Fear not, the accommodations are wonderful. Do not let the term caves scare you. All modern amenities. Only negative, no windows. Not for the claustrophobic. I have my own small white terrace hewed out of the cliff in front. A place where one can sit and contemplate his navel.

I can see the four islands made by the volcanic eruption. The eruption actually split a big island down the middle into two islands as well as several small ones. Smoke and sulfur can still be seen coming from the volcano itself.

Tradition has many tales. It is claimed that Santorini is the place where Moses and his people made their exodus from Egypt. The plagues which afflicted the Pharaoh and Egyptians are the same as were experienced on Santorini at the time of the volcanic eruption. Also, the breaking up of the island is said to reflect the parting of the waters by Moses. Another historical claim is that the Atlantis of old was a part of Santorini and now lies somewhere below the sea in the area.

The waters are extremely deep around Santorini. Especially in the area of the volcano. So the tale may have some truth.

Sunset is big here. As in Key West. I rarely go to a sunset anymore in Key West. Seen one, seen them all. Too many people.

I went to the sunset last night. When in Rome, etc. Never again.

The sunset was around a corner of the island. I had about a one mile walk to it. Uphill all the way. Sometimes at a 45 degree angle. Steps everywhere. No consistency between the distance or height of each. The paved area marble. Slippery.

I was exhausted when I arrived at the anointed place. Pleased I had not fallen. Crushed into and with a mass of people just as in Mallory Square.

My sunset hours the rest of this trip will be spent on my little terrace with a drink in hand.

Many outdoor cafes along the top of the cliff. I stopped at one and enjoyed a delicious dish of moussaka. Prices dramatically cheap.

Then back to my cave and sleep. The weather cool. I slept like a baby all night. The first time I have done so this trip.

This morning there was a knock on the cave door. Yes, there are doors. It was a boy with coffee and bread. Nikos had sent them to me for breakfast. The bread was hot. Just out of the oven. I broke off a chunk and enjoyed.

More tomorrow. Do not miss any of it. This is one exciting place!

Enjoy your day!

TRUMP NOMINATED FOR NOBEL PEACE PRIZE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW was originally published on Key West Lou

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nightrainlily · 6 years

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DAY THREE: THE SWEDISH MILE

the town of Nyhamnsläge is situated on the southern tip of Sweden, just inside the border with Denmark. to get here, you pass through Höganäs and Helsingborg, larger cities where everyone works and goes to school. even further north is the village of Lerhamn, about a mile up the coast, and then Mölle, a tourist town where only a few thousand people live year-round, but whose population swells in the summer months. it’s situated around the mountain region of Kullaberg, where we hiked yesterday. on the hill the trees grow sideways due to constant duress from the sea wind.

when I was here last, I stayed up and woke up late, but because we’re here for such a short period and still jetlagged, we’re waking up around five while the family sleeps until around eight. this morning, I felt refreshed and motivated to follow through on my promise to myself to run to Mölle, so I suited up, laced my shoes, and set out. the weather was perfect, as it usually is here in summer (winters are absolutely brutal, I’m told), and the path from Nyhamnsläge to Mölle is perfectly straight. if my vision was better, I might be able to see all the way to my destination from the start of the road.

long story short, it was much further than I remembered. the distance to and from Mölle is ten kilometers, six miles, or one Swedish mile. I think I was running more consistently last time I was here; my logs from those runs have “great” ratings and my blog makes no mention of their difficulty. once I reached Mölle and realized that I still had to go all the way back, I was even more glad for the beautiful scenery. I saw a huge black stallion on one property, and ran through a flock of birds that all took flight when I approached. it was cool in the shade and warm in the sun and pleasant all the time. the running conditions were ideal, but forty minutes in my knees were aching and my lungs were burning. after I got back to the house, I felt both incredibly accomplished and incredibly tired. and it was only seven in the morning.

later on, Amalia, Joelle, my mother, and I went down to the beach to swim. I’m a chronically cold person with an unreasonable inability to regulate my body temperature, and the water was absolutely freezing, but I was heinously peer pressured into swimming out to the anchored raft. even though I was uncomfortable the whole time, and complained loudly about it too, I’m sure that the swim will be one of the more memorable aspects of my time in Sweden, and this entire trip. I can’t say that I felt peaceful at any point, but knowing that I swam in the Swedish ocean with my family and friends was worth the discomfort. to appropriate a phrase Joelle uses, it be like that sometimes.

soon after that, we walked to Krapperups castle, which I had run past (now four times). we took a route along the coast, through the rocky terrain that splits the ocean and the field. that was the area that I visited my first afternoon in Sweden two years ago, and I’m glad I saw it again on this trip. the number of unique environmental features—pebbles, sand, grass, trees, marsh, hills—makes for a slightly overwhelming but beautiful walk. when we got to the castle and read about its history, I was struck by a familiar feeling from my first visit to Europe: some monuments here are hundreds of years older than my whole country. it’s amazing to see things which still endure, though people and nations and eras come and go. during our swim, I asked amalia if there were ever storms and why the houses, hers included, stand so close to the sea. she told me that there were indeed waves, in the winter months, that splash the dining room windows. the city is trying to come up with a solution for the erosion, but in the meantime the homes, and the families in them, wait and hope to stand another year.

today was Amalia’s homecoming party to celebrate her return from her yearlong exchange in Australia. Cecila and Bo worked in the kitchen all day making pasta salad and chocolate cake for the guests, and us kids blew yellow and blue balloons to hang around the garden. when people started to arrive, Joelle and I stood back, listening to them greet each other in Swedish. to our surprise, each person approached us, even the kids. not all Americans have poor manners, but it is unlikely that every person at a party back home would be so courteous as to introduce themselves to the foreigners, in their own language, and even ask us questions about our time in Sweden and how we were enjoying our visit.

Amalia’s friends from her grundskola remembered me from the day I attended their graduation two years ago, and I them. I follow some of them through social media, and have kept up on their lives, despite our short in-person acquaintance. sometimes I struggle to make friends in new environments and I’m nervous about the social aspect of college this fall. I’m not sure if the Swedes are simply more friendly, or if Amalia’s friends are just good people, but that they remember me from my last visit made me smile.

we met a woman, a family friend, whose daughter is leaving for an Australian exchange in just a few days. she is a pediatrician, and a neurologist on the side somehow (Swedish employment and education is slightly different; you study and do residency while working to obtain certificates, rather than “going back to school” as some Americans do). we talked a lot about medical history and medical advances, like the four humors and vaccines, respectively. she was incredibly insightful (in perfect english) in her analysis of differences between the Swedish and American healthcare systems, which we’ve discussed at length with Cecilia and Bo. I’ll try to sum my findings below:

each visit to the doctor in the Swedish system costs the equivalent of twenty dollars, and there is a maximum amount you can pay per year, so if you exceed that number subsequent visits within that pay period are free. drugs also have a ceiling on cost to their consumer, which is I believe one hundred fifty dollars. there is no in-network and out-of-network, and insurance is not provided through your employer, but rather by the welfare state.

Erik said that when he learned about the states’ healthcare during his exchange, he became far more grateful for his upbringing in the Swedish system. and healthcare is only one aspect of welfare that protects its citizens from destitution. we talked during the party about his options for masters programs; he could go for free to a Swedish school with a good reputation, go for a low cost to another European institution with a great reputation, or go for an extravagant cost to an American program with a stellar reputation. he is a top student and is considering the best of the best, like Harvard or University of Pennsylvania. although he wants to invest in his future by attending a prestigious school, he is well aware of the problems in the inflated american university system. he still has two years left until he would make that decision, and I’ll be interested to see what he ultimately chooses; while our schools are known for their worldwide prestige, the lure of an absolutely free education in Sweden would tempt even the most ambitious students.

we also talked about grundskola and how it affects the trajectory of a child’s schooling. earlier in our visit, Erik asserted that if someone who wanted to get an education, up through a doctorate, in Sweden could do so for free. as someone who has grown up with the assumption that I would pay through the nose for my education, I found that hard to believe. I gave him a theoretical example: a poor student born into poor family in a poor neighborhood in the states is zoned for a public school with low ratings. they don’t have the resources to attend a private or charter school, and so they come up in the school and do worse on the standardized tests that will determine where, or if, they get to go to college. before this judgement comes the systematic disadvantage: students from under-performing schools aren’t encouraged to go to university and have to overcome huge barriers to even prepare themselves for college. if they don’t get scores good enough for huge academic scholarships, even if they get in, they can’t take their earned place. they face prejudice and obstacles at every turn.

what would a student in a similar economic position do in Sweden? Erik said that all Swedish schools have curriculum regulated and enforced by the government, and their performance is measured by nationwide tests. students moving from grundskola to gymnasium, the Swedish equivalent to high school, apply to programs with the scores of those standardized tests. these programs are specialized in “streams” like hard science, arts, music, social science, etc., so students begin to specialize as early as tenth grade. each gymnasium offers one or more streams, and they each have different scores required to gain admission, meaning that gymnasiums are ranked and recognized for their strengths the way universities are in the states. students rank their choices and are admitted to a gymnasium. if you attend a gymnasium that is far from your house and don’t have transportation, the school pays for a bus card or taxi to bring you and drop you off every day. to return to the theoretical example, the poor student in Sweden has gotten an equal education as their peers in a wealthier neighborhood, and faces little to no barriers to go to the best school possible for their chosen program. throughout gymnasium, students know that the next step, whether it be vocational school or university, will be free. their admission to those schools is based on scores on standardized tests, rather than the holistic application used almost ubiquitously in the states. they work hard at school, and again rank their choices of universities, again knowing that they will get into at least one. additionally, they are not expected to work during high school to pay for their college education, the way so many American students must. upon entrance to university, they study with the knowledge that they can pursue any further education for free.

factors outside a student’s control, like race, socioeconomic class, or location, are a handicap to their education from day one in the United States. unfortunate kids born into unfortunate circumstances will begin at a disadvantage, and will continue to fall further behind as their education progresses. the insane cost of education in the states is of course forefront in my mind at this point in my life, but I think I would feel as outraged about the injustice of our public education system at any time. as Erik said, at the close of our conversation: the state has nothing to lose by facilitating a better-educated population.

Joelle is looking at me like my typing is aggressive, probably because it is.

crying over my pricey education,

amaya

1. I Turn My Camera On - Spoon

2. Laura - Billy Joel

3. The Body Is a Blade - Japanese Breakfast

4. Guess Who I Saw Today - Nancy Wilson

#europe2018

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remnant-chronicles · 7 years

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Dust Stars

Stella Smoothie was as busy as ever during the summer months, the line would wrap around the shop and down the street. Alabasians enjoyed a fresh and cold smoothie when the air was as hot and sticky as it was that day. Sitting underneath the orange decorative umbrella was a woman in her mid twenties; sipping on a apple-blueberry-banana concoction. Her dark-red hair clashed with her blood-red eyes, something she hated growing up. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail so it would avoid sticking to her sweaty neck as she swiped her scroll vigorously upward. Her name was Faith Vermelho, leader of team FRST – an advanced guard to King Tris, the leader of Alabasia. Occasionally she would look up with her eyes squinting in the bright sunlight as people walked by, she was waiting for someone. She graciously picked up her cup, her pinky finger raised, and sipped her smoothie. She then patted her mouth with a pink napkin and placed it gingerly next to the cup. “You know,” came a voice from behind Faith that made her jump slightly, “I can't tell if you're always like that, or if it's just an act.” Faith turned around frowning at the person who commented and saw her teammate Serina Lapir. She was wearing her usual getup: a dark-blue, medium length battle skirt with silver and black greaves, chest plate, a pair of gauntlets on her arms and a single pauldron on her left shoulder. Her dark, blue hair was held in a ponytail and her dark, pumpkin colored eyes were cold and calculating as she watched Faith take another sip. “You should know that it's from being part of the King's audience during his dinners and get-togethers and that we have to maintain manners even when we're out in public.” explained Faith as she took another sip, she continued, “Forget about me. It's like an oven out here and you're dressed like there's a war going to start at any moment.” “It's better than looking like you've been held back a dozen times at Mantis.” said Serina coldly as she pointed out Faith's outfit which was similar to the the type of uniform that was worn at their primary combat school, just different colors: white high top sneakers, blue knee socks, a dark-red plaid skirt, black arm socks, and a black sweater vest with red trim. “What? I like this style!” defended Faith as she rolled up her sleeves a bit. “Still,” continued Serina as her armor tinkered and clanked as she shrugged her shoulders. “Come and sit down for a bit,” said Faith, cutting Serina off, “The others still aren't here yet.” Serina sat down and crossed her arms and stared at the people inside the cafe. She would eye them as they walked out carrying their cups, and some carrying pastries. “Why don't you get something for yourself?” asked Faith, following Serina's gaze. “No.” she said simply. “I know you want something.” insisted Faith as she smirked, “Go on.” “I said no already. Leave it.” said Serina harshly. “You're looking a bit peckish, if you ask me.” said Faith as she pulled out her wallet. “Well I didn't ask you.” said Serina as her face started to redden a bit. “I have to look out for my team,” said Faith as she pulled out some money, “Here just take it. Don't worry about owing me later. Go on” Serina begrudgingly took the money after a moment and stomped her way toward the inside of the cafe; her armor clanging loudly with each step. Faith sat back and pulled out her scroll again and began scrolling with her thumb absentmindedly when she heard her name being called out. “Hey, Faith!” called out a female voice. She turned around and smiled as her teammates Rin Grau and Tessa Braun. Rin was Faith's friend that she knew the longest. They had met while at Andromeda Academy (their secondary combat school ) and had been nearly inseparable since; they always had each others backs no matter the situation. Rin was wearing her usual outfit, which was ninja-like in appearance with black shin guards and forearm guards with silver lining, a grey chest plate, and thin pauldrons. Underneath the armor was grey tight pants and a tight cross over jacket adorned with a black hood. Her silver hair shined brightly in the light as she kept her cerulean eyes squinted to see in front of her. Next to Rin was their final teammate, Tessa "Tess" Braun. Being nearly two years in FRST, Tess was still the newest member in the group. She was quickly drafted into the team after Rin witnessed Tess stopping a robbery at a bank – taking down six men all by herself in mere seconds. Her smile reached her canary-yellow eyes as she saw Faith standing up and waving; her dark brown hair being jostled in the breeze as she waved back. In her short time on the team, Tess highly considered her like family, even if Serina scoffed at that idea. She was wearing her typical daily attire of a sleek business suit fitted with a dark brown tie. They sat down next to Faith and began talking while Serina plopped down a few seconds later with a bright green drink in her hands. “You know,” said Rin as she pulled out her scroll, “I heard a rumor that the king might venture outside the walls soon.” “Really? Where'd you hear that?” asked Tess as she looked up from fixing her tie. “Overheard a meeting when I was making my way to the west garden."said Rin. "How long has it been?” asked Tess. “Since the King ventured outside the walls? It's been a while. The prince was still a child.” said Serina as she fished a cherry from the bottom of the cup. “That long?” asked Tess, remembering that the Prince just celebrated his nineteenth birthday. “Yeah. I remember those days like it was yesterday.” said Faith reminiscently. “Those were dark times indeed.” said Rin nodding her head. She continued after seeing Tess' confused face, “We technically don't talk about it, more like 'not really allowed' because of King Tris' wife.” “That makes sense,” agreed Tess, “Didn't they say it was an assassination attempt meant for him?” “I wouldn't trust anything said. Once information becomes a rumor and starts spreading around, it becomes so diluted and muddled that the original story becomes lost in a perilous void.” said Serina gloomily. “I bet you're a real riot at parties, Serina.” teased Rin while Faith and Tess laughed. “Jokes aside,” said Faith, “This one sounds serious. Expect a summons soon. The tournament is coming up fast and preparations for transport have to start. This is a damn big deal.” “How far is Vytal from here?” asked Rin. “Considering that Tris wants to travel via motorcade, it's actually not that far from here. Maybe three or four days with limited stops for rest.” said Serina. They sat in silence for a few moments before Faith pulled out her scroll and started swiping on the screen before all of theirs started ringing simultaneously; catching Serina by surprise and making her spill her drink. “It says that we're needed back at the castle.” said Tess looking up from her scroll. “Well then,” said Fatith as she stood up and stretched, “Let's go.” “Wait,” said Rin as she stood up as well, “What happened to you Serina?” “Ugh...Nothing.” she said as she tried to wipe her spilled drink off of her front. “It looks like 'nothing' is all over you.” teased Tess. “Oh shut up!” Serina snapped back to a laughing Rin, “Just go ahead, I'll meet you there.” Faith, Rin and Tess walked together toward the castle that was located at the back of the city atop of a rather large hill. The castle itself was the tallest point in Alabasia standing hundreds of feet over all other buildings. It was a stark contrast compared to the surrounding buildings in the city, which were varied in colors from blue to yellow and everything in between. The castle itself was a bony-white in color lined with blue incandescent edges that flashed slowly. Ships could be see arriving and departing from time to time carrying important people and secretive shipments. FRST worked directly and lived in the castle alongside King Tris as his personal guard. They escorted him anywhere in the kingdom he needed to go, and protected him inside the castle walls. BOOM! An explosion rocked the street Faith, Rin and Tess were walking on that sent shards of glass, pieces of rubble, and people flying. Running out of the smoldering store that had just exploded were four masked individuals carrying large black duffle bags. They were all wearing the same outfit which consisted of dark-gray long-sleeved shirts, black armored vests and baggy black cargo pants and military style boots. They were shooting behind their backs blindly at anyone who was making an attempt at following them. People were ducking for cover as dust fueled bullets were whizzing past their bodies as the the thieves ran down a narrow alley with Faith, Rin and Tess quickly taking pursuit. “Go left!” ordered Faith as she saw two of the burglars turn left at the end of the alley. Rin and Tess banked left as Faith ran straight towards the other burglar. All of a sudden, Rin stopped dead in her tracks. Tess looked back in confusion. “What're you doing? They're getting away!” she shouted. Rin shook her head as she arched her back and her eyes grew wide. In an instant, she disappeared from behind Tess and reappeared in front of the two burglars causing them to stop in their tracks and raise their guns; their barrels glowing ominously. “How the-” said one of the burglars in surprise, but was cut off when Rin bashed him across the face with her bow. Tess dove out of the way as the body flew past her and slid on the ground in a crumbled heap and looked at Rin who motioned at something behind her. She looked around and ducked just in time at the burglar that she was dealing with swiped at her with a rather long, red blade that had transformed from his gun. “Oh! You're crafty one, aren't you?” giggled Tess as she raised her hand. A peculiar blue glow emanated from her palm and the burglar's knife zipped from his hand to Tess'. Her palm glowed again and the knife started to hover over it. She then angled her arm behind her head and smiled as she sent the knife whizzing straight into the burglars foot; pinning him on the spot. He yelled in pain as he tried to move but couldn't as his foot was firmly staying in place. Tess walked forward and raised her arm again and let out an electric pulse that made him fall backwards in an unconscious pile. “You're a sadistic one, you know that?” said Rin as she walked up to Tess. “No, that's Faith.” laughed Tess, “Speaking of, let's find her. She might need us” Rin nodded her head and followed Tess as she pulled out her scroll to find Faith's ping on a tracker app that she downloaded. Meanwhile, while Rin and Tess took care of their problem, Faith was in pursuit of the three remaining burglars that were trying to escape. She dodged bullets as they whizzed past her, deflecting a few of them with her halberd. “Oh no you don't!” she grunted as she took a leap forward to try and trip one of them. One of the burglars merely skipped over the curve of her halberd and twisted in midair and pointed his gun at a defenseless Faith's head. Her eyes grew wide as she saw a flash of light from the muzzle. She closed her eyes and prepare for what was coming, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes and, to her surprise, saw a lancer wiggling in the ground with the burglar's sleeve impaled in the ground. Serina aimed a well timed kick at the trapped burglar's head and knocked him out. Faith slid belly down on the ground past the body and twisted herself around to see Serina sprinting toward her; her eyes glowing. “Found you.” said a huffing and puffing Serina at Faith. “Took you long enough.” said Faith as she took Serina's extended arm and helped herself up and picked up her halberd. “One of them is getting away!” said Serina, pointing at the last burglar that hopping onto a motorcycle to get away. “I.” grunted Faith as her palms flash a bright shade of lime green, “Don't. Think. SO!” She threw her arms over her head and brought down her weapon with a mighty yell. The energy in her palms transferred to the blade and shot out in a beam of light toward the burglar. In an instant, the bike exploded so violently that a shockwave formed and broke all the windows of storefronts, restaurants, and apartments all down the street. The burglar was launched in the air and landed in a tree; his clothes smoking. “Shoot a damn gun at me,” said Faith quietly as her aura flashed on her body as it weakened slightly, “You're lucky I missed.” Rin and Tess caught up a minute later, Tess uttered a low whistle as she looked at the damage. “Wow, Faith,” said Rin as she eyed down the street, “All the way down...The windows.” “Yeah, that's gonna be expensive.” said Tess. “Whatever,” said Serina as she wiped sweat from her brow, “It's over now.” “Yeah, and the police are arriving.” said Rin pointing behind Serina. The Alabasian authorities pulled up in their cars and vans and stepped out. They wore white uniforms to symbolically show that they were pure of heart, and only sought out justice for the good of the people. Their belts only had a gun and a baton to aide them in certain situations. “We'll take care of it from here, ladies. Thank you.” said the lead officer as he walked over to them. “Don't worry, love,” said Faith as she walked up the officer and brushed his cheek with her thumb, “We already have.” Serina picked up her weapon, and held it at her side as FRST began to walk towards the castle once again. There was no doubt that news of this attack will spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom.

#rwby

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