There is a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasnt because I thought I would be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love? And then you don’t have it. What if you like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it? And then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This? It could go on forever …
—  Grey’s Anatomy
Unaccompanied Minor
Season 7/Episode 22

This is Sister Norma Pimentel, the Executive Director for Catholic Charities in the Rio Grande Valley. She’s standing in the Parish Hall of the Sacred Heart Church in McAllen, which she converted to a makeshift supply center for migrant families in 2014. At that time the surge of unaccompanied minors from Central America had overloaded Border Patrol facilities, and they were releasing families where the parents were present in order to make room for the unaccompanied kids. 

Sister Norma opened this center so those families would have somewhere to come for clothing, food, water, and showers, before continuing their journey. 

“We welcome them the moment they walk through those doors of Sacred Heart Parish Hall. We have our volunteers clap and say ‘welcome, bienvenidos.’ And just that moment starts a transformation of the family where they feel for the very first time they matter, that their lives are important to others…And they feel overwhelmed with gratefulness because of the fact that for the very first time in their journeys, of what they’ve been through, they finally arrive to a place that’s caring and compassionate. And the volunteers are wonderful in making sure they get everything they need so that they can truly restore their dignity after the great journey and hardships that they went through.”

– Ravenna 

(Photo: Samantha Balaban/NPR)

there’s a reason i said i’d be happy alone.
it wasn’t ‘cause i’d be happy alone.
it was because i thought that if i loved someone and then it fell apart i might not make it.
it’s easier to be alone.
because what if you learn that you need love and then you don’t have it?
what if you like it and lean on it?
what if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart?
can you even survive that kind of pain?
losing love is like organ damage.
it’s like dying.
the only difference is death ends.
it could go on forever.
—  Grey’s Anatomy, Season 7: Episode 22 Unaccompanied Minor

anonymous asked:

Jason: "Why couldn't Wonder Woman have adopted me instead?"


Cor Et Cerebrum universe bc why not and also I don’t have to do a ton of legwork to get Bruce and Jason to talk.

Some language

Jason Todd has been moping around the manor for five weeks when Bruce has finally, finally had enough. He likes having him there, he really does, and most of the time it works out just fine.

Except Jason has picked up the awful, grating habit of muttering, “Why couldn’t Wonder Woman have adopted me instead?” every single time he’s even mildly annoyed. In his defense, Bruce visibly flinched the first time Jason said it, half-joking, and he’s been throwing it around since then probably in hopes of getting a similar reaction which Bruce will not give him the satisfaction of seeing.

Jason is pretty fond of his new catchphrase and the week that Bruce reaches his limit is the same week Jason makes sure he overhears it while Jason is talking to Alfred, Damian, Tim, Dev, and Dick, in that order. The final straw is when he’s sitting on the floor in the study while Bruce works at the desk, and Jason puts his book down to ruffle Titus’ ears and without provocation says it to the dog.

“You’re a good boy,” he says to the drooling face, the dog’s whole body shaking in excitement. “I never had a dog. Why couldn’t Wonder Woman have adopted me instead? She’d let me have a dog.”

Bruce slams the folder in front of him shut and Jason waits for the shout or the tense reassurance that Jason could, in fact, procure a dog if he so desired.

But instead Bruce picks up his cell phone.

“Diana,” he says after a moment. “I have a problem.”

Jason stops petting Titus to listen and Bruce stands and leaves the room.

“Get a bag,” Bruce says stiffly when he returns, Jason still sitting and too shell-shocked to move. “Now.”

And if Bruce is going to take it to the next level, Jason is going to match him step for effing step. He throws stuff in a duffel upstairs and stomps back down toward the front, where he finds Bruce waiting.

“Hurry up,” Bruce says. “She’ll be here soon.”

Jason follows him to the end of the lane where Bruce takes the duffel bag and motions for him to sit down on it. Bewildered, amused, angry, and still silent, Jason complies.

Bruce pulls something out of his pocket and then crouches and safety pins a piece of paper to Jason’s shirt.

“Ow,” Jason mutters, even though the pin didn’t actually prick him.

“Sorry,” Bruce says, and Jason feels a touch of guilt but doesn’t fess up. “We’ll miss you. Have fun.”

And then Bruce leaves.

A few minutes later, a car turns into the drive and stops. The window rolls down and Dev looks at him. Tim is in the passenger seat on the far side, with wide eyes, sipping something orange through a plastic straw.

“Mate,” Dev says, leaning out the window to look around a bit.

“Yep,” Jason says.


Jason isn’t a minor but he’ll let this detail slide for now.

“I’m calling his bluff,” Jason says, and Tim snorts.

“Bloody hell,” Dev grumbles and rolls up the window and drives toward the manor.

Another few minutes go by, slow in the early fall afternoon, and then there’s a soft whoosh and Wonder Woman lands on her booted feet in front of him. For all his bravado, he hasn’t actually spent all that much time in front of her, and if he’s honest, she still intimidates him far more than Clark ever does. He forces himself to give her what he hopes is a cheeky grin.

“Hiya,” he says. “Guess you’re the new mom.”

“Your father conveyed such wishes,” she replies solemnly.

She looks up and Jason turns at the sound of footsteps approaching across the fine gravel. It’s Bruce again, this time with a mug in his hand. He raises it to Diana slightly in greeting.

“He is certain?” Diana asks and Jason is starting to feel a little nervous. She sounds so serious.

“Ask him,” Bruce says, with a shrug. He stops and puts one hand in his pocket while he sips the coffee. “He’s been talking about it for months.”

“Are you certain?” Diana asks Jason and Jason is still unwilling to back down. At some point, one of them has to break and either admit it’s a huge farce or beg him to change his mind.

“Yep,” Jason says. “So, whaddaya say we get the frick outta here?”

“I have always wanted a son,” she says, now beaming. “I always thought it unlikely to find one that agreed to the terms of Themyscira.”

“You’ve found him,” Jason says, giving Bruce a slightly alarmed look. He was not made aware of terms.

“Do not trouble yourself,” Diana says, seeing his expression. “Castration is a brave but noble undertaking to dwell among my women. And we are not barbarians. You will be permitted to be sedated for the procedure if you desire it. There is no shame.”

Jason feels the blood rush to his cheeks and then immediately drain from his head.

“The–” is all he gets out. The world around him has gone fuzzy, wrapped in gauze and protected from sound.

He does not hear or see Bruce sputter into his coffee.

But he does turn to look at Bruce after and mistakes the attempt at Bruce’s self-recovery for a dark scowl.

So, Jason figures he brought this on himself.

“Shall we go?” Diana asks.

“I…” Jason looks dumbly down at the note on his chest and tears it off with a frown. “I think I’ll stay,” he says faintly.

“That is unfortunate but understandable. I have reason to believe your current family holds great affection for you,” Diana says kindly.

“Sorry to waste your time,” Bruce says, as Jason climbs to his feet and says a hasty goodbye. The boy goes up into the manor and disappears inside.

“How did I do?” Diana asks, smiling at Bruce.

“Fine,” he says, scant on praise as usual. “The castration bit was a little over the top, don’t you think?”

“It was very effective,” Diana retorts. And Bruce can’t argue with that.

“Thanks again,” Bruce says. “I’m going to go do damage control.”

“It was my pleasure,” Diana says before flying away. Bruce watches her go and then turns back to the house. When he goes inside, Jason is sitting on the steps in the foyer with a defiant glare.

“I wish the Kents had adopted me,” he snaps before Bruce can speak. “They’d never do something like this.”

Bruce opens his mouth and for a long moment, is frozen, but then he laughs and holds out an arm. Jason is still sulking, pretty convincingly for someone wearing combat boots and almost as tall as Bruce.

He steps right into the hug with his arms stiff at his sides and his chin dipped down. Bruce squeezes him, an arm firm around Jason’s shoulders.

“You didn’t really think I’d let her take you, did you?” he asks.

Jason grumbles something indistinct and shakes his head.

“You know she was joking, right?”

“Fuck me,” Jason mutters in disgust and relief at once. “I’m never gonna be able to even look at her again.”

“Give it a few months,” Bruce says. “You’ll survive. And maybe stop throwing your dad out with the bathwater every time I turn around.”

“Are you calling yourself a baby?” Jason asks without looking up, but Bruce can hear the grin in Jason’s voice.

“Maybe. Maybe I’m sensitive.”

Jason barks a laugh against Bruce’s shoulder and steps back.

“Deal,” he says.

“Crap,” Tim says from the top of the stairs. They both look up to where Tim and Damian both have armfuls of books and action figures from Jason’s room.

“Put those back,” Jason orders sharply, already hurrying toward the stairs. “Now, you miscreants.”

“Why did you permit a return policy, Father?” Damian asks, stepping back and tightening his grip. Tim has already fled and abandoned him there. Damian wastes no more time in following and Jason’s heavy boots sound out as he storms down the hall. There are outraged shouts and a scream a moment later.

“Change of heart, sir?” Alfred asks calmly, walking by with a tray of tea things.

“Something like that,” Bruce says, still looking up the stairs and trying to decide if it’s worth intervening. There’s another yell and he decides they’ll come for help if they need it.



There’s a loud crash.

He shakes his head and goes upstairs.

“I knew she wasn’t serious,” he mutters to himself when there’s another crash. “Why didn’t I go with her?”

Abandoned and abused: the forgotten Syrian refugee children on a Greek detention island
By Mark Townsend

Rasha went missing late afternoon last Saturday. Her peers describe hanging out as normal with the 20-year-old Syrian in the Greek refugee detention camp. Then she vanished. Last Tuesday her friend Amira, 15, received a flurry of images on her phone. Rasha was lying naked in bed with a man. Superimposed upon his head were grotesque cartoon faces and an accompanying message from the anonymous caller: “I promise I will kidnap you also.”

This was far from being the first threat that the teenage refugee from the Syrian city of Qamishli has received since arriving on the Aegean island of Chios six months ago. Existence in the razor-wire-fenced detention centre, a former factory known as Vial, deep within the island’s mountainous interior, is fraught for a child hoping for a fresh start in Europe, preferably the UK.

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Fellow refugees intimidate her routinely. “Men say they will attack me, they try and trap us by saying don’t go to Souda [another refugee camp on the island] or go into the town. They say: ‘If I see you there, I will attack you. I will kidnap you and kill you.’”

Amira is among scores of unaccompanied minors on Chios who are eligible to claim asylum in the UK under the so-called Dubs amendment. A year ago the UK government announced it would urgently offer sanctuary to a sizeable proportion of Europe’s vulnerable child refugees, a figure widely understood to be about 3,000 minors until, in February, the Home Office unexpectedly stopped the scheme after helping just 480, one child for every 130,000 UK residents. Not a single unaccompanied minor has been transferred from Greece to the UK under the Dubs scheme.

There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t ‘cause I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone, and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love? And then you don’t have it? What if you like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it? And then… it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is… death ends. This? It could go on forever.
—  Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo)
Grey’s Anatomy 7x22 “Unaccompanied Minor”

 They come from Sudan, Somalia and Ethiopia. They are young adults and unaccompanied minors, pregnant women and entire families. They gather here in Ventimiglia, Italy, a small town on the Mediterranean coast, major transit point for refugees, and final frontier of the dangerous journey to Europe.

As many migrate north to nations like France and Germany, they pass through Ventimiglia, but recent increased policing along the borders here has prevented people from crossing successfully. As a result, the population of refugees and migrants is growing. With camps full, people look to the urban landscape for shelter, sleeping under bridges and overpasses. Some even sleep along the banks of the Roia river.

Citizens engaged: citizens on both sides of the border have stepped up to help the growing population. In Ventimiglia, Sant Antonio church has transformed into a temporary shelter and food kitchen; local bars offer refugees meal discounts and free electricity to charge their phones, since makeshift shelters lack power. MSF began collaborating with these local efforts in fall of last year to provide care for migrants in transit, especially for expectant mothers and to address the effects of mental trauma. Often, the trauma from the migration route leaves individuals with feelings of depression, abandonment and anxiety.

While people wait for the next step in Ventimiglia, not every asylum claim is approved by the government. When these applications are denied, the options are limited, though a last effort remains: to walk the five miles from Ventimiglia into France, a journey along the highway known as the “Pass of Death.” Since September, 10 have died on this route attempting to cross the border, and some, avoiding the highway altogether, travel along the equally dangerous railroad or mountain path instead. It is along this route that Roya Citoyenne, a local community group across the French border, has created a temporary shelter where, if only for a moment, refugees can safely rest as they seek their final destination.


Grey’s Anatomy: Unaccompanied Minor
There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t ‘cause I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love and then you don’t have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever.

Writers Creed Interviews: @bumbleblossoms

It has been so much fun getting to know the wonderful Miriam( @bumbleblossoms) Please do take a moment to read this interview and find out about her writing experiences, what happens when an 11-year old ends up on the wrong plane, a glimpse of how a first grade novel looks like, and more! Thank you for sharing with us glimpses of your life!

Writers Creed: So tell us about you username and how would you like us to call you?

Miriam: My username was partially just an in the moment decision where it popped into my head and I loved it. The other part of it was that I wanted to express the way I feel about writing, and often times, things feel so accidental, like I’m just bumbling along with no idea what I’m doing. The rest of my poetry is passion and love combined with that bumbling, and I felt that flowers really showed it. But once again, it was nearly accidental where it popped into my head and I loved it. You can call me Miriam, I don’t mind going by that or by my username.

WC: Aha that’s a good enough reason for a username. Alright Miriam sounds good :)

So tell us how you got into writing. What made you start?

M: My mother is a writer, she loves poetry and novel writing, and I grew up listening to her stories every night. When I was in first grade, I decided I wanted to write a novel just like my mom. Obviously, because I was in first grade, it was an amusingly awful novel. I still have my old journals saved and go back to look at it every now and then. Somehow, I managed to spell the word ‘beautiful’ about 20 different ways and never stuck to the same one. The book was based off the Jewish story of Purim with many creative embellishments. After that, I kept on trying to write novels and ended up writing 3 during middle school and 1 during high school. It wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I started writing poetry, and the thing that had always held me back in the past was that because of my experience with writing novels, I tried to structure the poems too much and never let myself free with my thoughts and imagination. During this past year, I fell in love with poetry as a form of freedom. I’ve used it as a sanctuary to express myself and work through struggles, and I’m really glad I started.

WC: Aw, like mother like daughter. Sweet. Wow what a great story, I mean I think we would all love to see a fun glimpse of your first grade writing 😂

M: Ah well, I may actually be able to follow up with that. I’ll see if I can dig up some fantastic quotes

WC: Now that would be amazing! :) Now that you have discovered poetry, could you pick between the two if I asked you which you like more?

M: Honestly I could not pick because it’s all what stage of my life I am in and what I need at the moment. Novel writing was kind of my ultimate goal in life for a long time, but I think at the moment I am at my peak of growth and emotional flexibility, and I have really needed something that had this flexibility and freedom. I do expect to shift in and out of which one I like more over the years.

WC: Do you have anything published? Would you like to?

M: [I] have never published anything, and although I would love to be published, I also know that I might not be ready yet. I am comfortable letting myself grow and learn and improve until I am in a better place to publish my work.

WC: That is a great idea. We should always be striving to improve ourselves.

M: Here is a wonderful glimpse into the first chapter of my first grade novel:

“My name is Ester. I live in pershaw. in the palace the Queen Vashti is having A party so is the king. the king desides to show his ghests bateful vashi. he tels his servants to go tell vashti to come and dance but when they ascked her she refewsd. the king banashed her but after that he became lonly. he desied to throw a sleep away for all the girls of persha. When i got the letter I began to cry. I know I was the most buteful of all the girls and he woud pick me for Queen but I had to go. my uncle put my best gown on and butiful slipers for the wack.”

The spelling is 100% accurate, as one might be able to guess.

Oh wait, I have to include my favorite line

“Finnilly we reached the palace. It looked like it was just silver and gold no really thats all.”

Really can’t be complete without that one.

WC: That was just amazing. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Adorable

M:Thank you, thank you. I am glad I could share it. My first grade self is quite proud right now

WC: And we are too (of both)😁. What would you say inspires you to write? What do you usually write about?

M: Often I just get filled with this feeling that I have something to write about, even if I’m not sure what it is. When I don’t have an idea, but I know I want to write, I go to my best friend and ask him for a writing prompt. He has always loved to read my poetry so I love getting prompts from him because he gets to see his words turn into art. Sometimes though, I am just struck with a word or idea, and I start writing and the poem just takes me somewhere. I write about many different things, I think two of the most common themes I have noticed are the most negatives aspects of my experiences such as abuse, and the things which I am most in awe of. I adore writing about my friends, even if the poem just begins with the thought of them and somehow ends up having nothing to do with them, which is quite common for me. I often feel like the poem writes itself because I allow the process to simply take me somewhere and it can be very unexpected.

WC: That is great. It is so amazing to be able to have someone so close to you that can encourage you and support you. Those are the kind of people you want to keep in your life. And that is a great balance. Seems like you are taking both the good and the bad from your life and turning it into art which people can just resonate with. “the poem writes itself”- that is amazing. I feel like many writers can agree with this.

This may be something you’ve answered already, but why do you like writing? What makes you come back to it?

M: I’ve always filled my life with art, I was a visual arts major in high school and studied ballet for 10 years. I think that art in and of itself is as close to magic as we can get, and I want my life filled with it. Writing specifically has always been my favorite art form though. For me personally, I find writing to come most naturally to me, and my heart really fills words well. Words by themselves are tossed around so carelessly, as so to use them to create art is a powerful and beautiful feeling. I also find the writing gives me a big feeling of accomplishment, and it’s really rewarding to be able to look back on my own work and smile at my accomplishments. 

WC: Earth without art is eh. Cheesy I know haha. But that is so true, art is quite magical. That is wonderful! It is always great to see how we have changed and how much we grew as humans and writers

M: I definitely agree

WC: So did anything interesting, odd, bizarre, happen because you write?

M: This isn’t really odd, but I think the most interesting advantage of being a writer is that I can pull right out of my head all the plot lines I have planned for novels, and tell them to young children as stories. Its wildly fun to entertain children by telling them an adventure that keeps them captivated, and it always makes me so happy to see them hanging off of every word and begging for another story at the end. It’s possibly most rewarding than even writing the stories themselves, children are the best audiences.

WC: Aw, that is so sweet and special. Must be a great experience. Where do you get to do that?

M: I’m a nanny so I take care of kids as my job I guess. But I also have 4 younger siblings, and spend a lot of time with my younger cousins as well. It’s really nice to spend time with them especially now that I’m an adult in their eyes (although I care to disagree) because they really look up to me. It’s a nice feeling.

WC: Aw haha that is great. And if you can take care of kids, you are an adult even if you weren’t legally in my opinion 😁

So for our final question, can you tell us a fun fact about you? Anything :)

M: I think the most random thing about me is that I was on Fox news once because when I was 11, I was flying as an unaccompanied minor, and the flight crew accidentally put me on the wrong plane. Instead of going to Ohio, I went to New Jersey, but I had no idea because I read comic books for the whole flight when they announced our destination repeatedly. I waited in the airport for about 3 hours before a staff member asked me if I knew I was in New Jersey, and I responded that I had no idea I was not in Ohio.

WC: Oh wow haha that sounds like quite the story that would make it on the news. I hope you got to your destination!

M: I did eventually. Took a few extra hours and was worth the adventure

WC:  Haha sounds like a great adventure! Well that is all, I am really happy you took the time to answer my questions.

M: I loved answering them, thank you!

Unaccompanied Minor pt2 l Shawn Mendes Imagine

(a/n): heyyy! thank you so much for the response for the first part and for requesting the second part! i hope you enjoy it <3 here’s part one <3

Originally posted by ljaureguis

What the hell had just happened?

That was the first thing on your mind after you settled down on your hotel room. It wasn’t normal to  leave a flight with a man’s number, let alone a pop star, but somehow that had happened to you after a six-hour flight. 

After staring at yourself in the mirror for almost ten minutes, you started taking off your uniform, carefully placing it on the closet, putting on your pajamas and removing your make-up before calling room service since you were starving, and your beloved airline was very generous, unlike others, and paid for whatever you consumed during your stay, so you didn’t feel bad after ordering a big meal. You turned on your laptop and opened Netflix so you could keep watching Scandal until someone knocked the door, announcing your food was here, and at the same time, your phone started ringing. You thanked the man who had brought the food before answering the FaceTime call from an unknown number. You were about to hang up the call since it could be anyone calling you until you saw Shawn’s face on the screen. You shook your head with a smile as you took in his appearance; his hair was wet and was wearing a grey hoodie from what you could see, and he had his killing smile decorating his face. 

“I thought you were going to text me,” you joked, earning a laugh from him.

“Just wanted to check you didn’t give me the wrong number or something” he said and you arched an eyebrow.  

“Why would I do that?” You asked him laughing, and he shrugged. 

“i don’t know a lot about flight attendants who are in charge of little girls who are scared of flying,” he answered and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Well, you know as much about them as I know about pop sensations from Canada” you said, making him laugh so hard he threw his head back.

“That was good…” he said shaking his head before collecting himself. “So… I need the name of the hotel you’re staying at” he said and you arched your eyebrows.

“Straight to the point, I see,” you chuckled and noticed Shawn blush a bit. 

Keep reading

Unaccompanied Minor l Shawn Mendes Imagine

a/n: this turned out being a lot longer than expected, i’m sorry. but i really hope you enjoy it!!! <3 you can find part two here

Originally posted by flyingiseverything

Flying was one of the most fun things in the world. Well, at least that’s what you thought when you decided to become a flight attendant. You were a people person, and the fact of getting to know places, even if it was for a very short period of time made you fall in love with your, now, job. Plus, you were single, and didn’t have children, so every time one of your colleagues had trouble with their schedules, you were the first one to offer to cover for them, not being able to have enough of the feeling of interacting with people and flying. Sure, there were costumers who were just rude, and guys who enjoyed free drinks way too much, but you still loved it. You had just completed your first year working for Air Canada and you were looking forward for many more.

Most people didn’t know, but flight attendants are up way long before boarding begins. Today, for instance, your day had started at 4 AM, at the base of the airline to discuss the flight details, then you were driven to the airport with the rest of the crew, you passed security and then you finally were directed to the plane one hour before boarding started, which meant almost two hours before the flight. You were finishing the security check when the flight purser approached you and asked for a word. Unconsciously, you smothered your uniform before giving her your best smile. 

 “(Y/N), we are having an unaccompanied minor on today’s flight, and she’ll be flying on Premium Economy, which is your section for today” she said and you knew what that meant; you had to chaperone the unaccompanied minor. “Her seat is 12E, she’s only 6 years old.” your superior told you and you nodded.

 "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her” You assured and she smiled before leaving.

 It wasn’t the first time you had an unaccompanied minor on your watch, but you had never had a girl so young, but you couldn’t really complain, since having her on your watch meant you got to seat beside her during take-off, landing, and even in the event of unexpected turbulences, instead of your assigned jumpseat, and that was very nice considering the flight from Toronto to London was kind of long. You didn’t notice when your superior approached you again to tell you it was almost time to start boarding, which meant you had to leave the aircraft and go looking for the little girl who was on the first boarding group. You fixed your skirt and blue scarf before walking to the gate. Some people stared at you in confusion, not really understanding why a flight attendant was outside the plane they were about to board, but it became clear when they saw you kneel in front of the little girl who was first in line. A tall, handsome boy had been silently keeping an eye on her until you arrived. You helped her show her passport and boarding pass to the crew before taking her hand and guiding her towards the plane. You learned her name was Olivia, and she looked anxious about flying, but you tried to keep her head out of it. You quickly found her seat, and as she talked about her dog named Kristoff, you buckled her up and left her ready for take-off. The tall boy you had seen before had his seat right next to Olivia, he gave her a nice smile before stowing his belongings.

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26 US Senators ask Obama to grant TPS to Guatemala, El Salvador & Honduras

Al menos 26 senadores estadounidenses firmaron una solicitud de TPS para los migrantes guatemaltecos. (Foto: Archivo/Soy502)

The 26 senators expressed their concern about deporting vulnerable groups, particularly women and unaccompanied minors, asking President Obama to award these countries Temporary Protected Status (TPS) in times of violence and political uncertainty. 

Wouldn’t expect too much, though – Guatemalan president Jimmy Morales has already asked for TPS four times since taking office.

anonymous asked:

Thank you for all the au lists! Do you have any age gaps prompts, please?

Totally appropriate age gap AU’s!

  • “you’re one year older than me and that simple fact goes straight to your bloated head by calling me ‘youngin’ and ‘small child’ as though youre a widowed old woman knitting on a porch swing”
  • “you know im totally not the type of girl who goes after older people but hoo DAMN this boy just might be the exception–wait how old are–you’re what? thats like four fucken years DUDE HOW AM I OLDER THAN YOU”
  • “you constantly call me ‘small child’ because im short and i hate it because im aT LEAST THREE YEARS OLDER THAN YOU AND ULTIMATELY YOUR SUPERIOR SO TRY SHOWING ME SOME RESPECT”
  • “youre worried that im too old and experienced for u because ur parents are strict about that kind of thing and to be honest i dont know how to break it to you that im over 500 years old and might have had sex in that time span”
  • “you get super flustered and angry whenever i mock u about being so young because you use witchcraft to keep yourself immortal but i was immortal a long time before you so i dont care if ur 300 years old babygirl, im still 600 and twice as better”
  • “i made the mistake once of offering u help at the airport because i thought you were an unaccompanied minor but it turns out after like an hour of me escorting you everywhere that youre like two years older than me and apparently WERENT joking about that one fact”
    • “look im sorry but youre just tiny and have chubby cheeks and look all innocent and cute how could i have known–please stop glaring at me ohmygod”

anonymous asked:


Story from childhood: I normally wouldn’t tell such a long story but I recently had this convo with @theluckyjinx2170 and I told them the story and this is the transcript. It’s a bit wild so follow along.

Alright, let me set the scene. It is 2011 and a young Jocelyn (me) has just woken up. Her cousins, who had slept over, are all awake and whispering in the corner. I am left immediately suspicious. I ask my oldest brother, who is 16 at the time, what’s going on? He tells me that my mom and dad just had to help my Aunt move some things. I am satisfied for the moment. So it’s just me and my brothers and my cousins alone in my house. That leaves 9 unaccompanied minors, ranging in ages 7 to 16, alone in the house.

All is currently well.

We all get bored and decide to go to my cousins house. This proves to be a good decision.  

So we get to my cousins house, which is about a 10 minutes drives away (my 16 year old cousin drove us). We get there and my cousins dad is there (Big J).  Big J informs us that a small fire had started at my grandma’s house and it was no big deal. That’s what the older cousins were whispering about when I woke up. They just didnt want to worry me and the other younger ones.So me and the younger cousins are a little upset that we were left out the loop but other than that we were fine.

We decided that itd be cool to go to my grandmas house and see the fire. Because we were terrible children. Big J takes us to the sight of the fire and it is immediately apparent that things are much worse than originally anticipated. Basically the entire Fire Department was there trying to put the fire out. My mom notices her kids were now there and was mad at Big J for brining is but she didnt feel like taking us home, so we stayed. Across the street from my Grandma’s house, which was currently engulfed in flame (with no one inside thankfully), lived my Aunt. So the entirety of my family was holed up there: this included Aunts, Uncles, cousins, and family friends. Adding up to nearly 40 people.

I, even at the young age of 11, knew this was going to be problematic. My family is messy as fuck. There are lines draw in the sand and deep running feuds between multiple people.

Keep reading

Berlin migrants on trial for fire attack on homeless man - BBC News
The young migrants are accused of setting a homeless man on fire in an attack which shocked Germany.

“Six are charged with attempted murder, accused of setting fire to newspaper with which the man had covered himself.

The seventh is charged with failing to assist the Polish man, who was only saved by the actions of passers-by after his attackers fled.

The attack, which was captured on CCTV, shocked the country.

Six of the accused come from Syria, a seventh from Libya. They range between 16 and 21 in age.

They arrived in Germany between 2014 and 2016, some as unaccompanied minors, say German media reports.

The case has renewed debate about the care of unaccompanied minors, as well as adding to an ongoing argument about whether CCTV cameras help combat crime.

The attack took place in the Schoenleinstrasse underground station in the southern Berlin district of Neukoelln at about 02:00 (01:00 GMT) on Christmas Day.

The alleged ringleader, a 21-year-old Syrian, is accused of lighting a handkerchief and placing it near the man’s head, and then running away as the flames spread to the man’s backpack and a plastic bag.

A train driver used a fire extinguisher to control the flames as passers-by helped to put them out.

Six of the suspects surrendered to police immediately after CCTV pictures of the incident in Berlin were released.

The alleged ringleader was arrested near his home.”

Glitch in the Matrix

When I was about 13 I saved up for a whole year so I could fly round trip to New York and visit some close family. Everything went smoothly, despite the fact that it was my first flight, and I was an unaccompanied minor. The summer was so great, that by the time I had to fly back home I was rather sad and anxious about it. It was an evening flight. Feeling ominously like something would go wrong, I boarded the plane and took my aisle seat, close to the rear latrines. I remember being seated next to a young man of Asian descent, with tattoos and a stack of biker magazines. With no window or kindred spirit to occupy my time, when the plane took off I promptly fell asleep. The next thing I remember, my seat-mate was shaking me awake; I thought he might have to use the restroom, but he just kept his headphones in, blaring loud metal music. The only thing he said was “hot dog!!” even though he didn’t seem to have one. Disoriented, I got up to use the bathroom but the flight attendant said it was occupied, so I started returning to my seat. On the way back, I noticed that outside the windows, nothing seemed to be in motion. It looked like we were hovering in midair! I froze in the aisle. Looking frantically through windows on either side, I asked the flight attendant “Have we stopped moving? Is that even possible?” To which she responded with a smile and instructed I return to my seat. I just kept staring out the windows, waiting for even the sensation of movement to return. I tapped the shoulders of a few other passengers with aisle seats, and asked them all if they thought were stationary in midair. No one looked at me directly. No one acknowledged I was speaking. I stared in amazement at the city lights below, glittering, but unmoving. We seemed much too close to them, since the time signified the flight was only halfway through. I could see the tops of individual buildings. By the time I got back to my seat, the young man was already asleep, headphones out, head blocking the window. I shook him for a minute straight but he wouldn’t wake. I could no longer see out the windows. The people across the aisle had shuttered theirs. I vowed to stay awake for the rest of the flight to make sure it wasn’t a dream. The next thing I remember I was wandering around the airport looking for my parents, who apparently thought my flight was scheduled for days later. They came to get me after a few hours, and when I tried to explain what happened they just asked about my summer activities. This is the first time I’ve mentioned it since then.
I guess reading everyone else’s glitch stories brought the memory back!

hepalien  asked:

Hey Mollyhall, the world really sucks today. Could you please tell us a story?

hey, beautiful moonbird. i know that yesterday was pretty brutal, and i know that for a lot of people today isn’t going to be much better. sometimes the world is like you looked under your bed and found a tin of rotted, moldy christmas cookies that your grandma gave you no less than five years ago and there’s a whole ecosystem in it.

on those days you’re like, “wow!!!!! i don’t want these cookies at all!!!!! there’s nothing good about these cookies and i hate them!!!!!” and i get that. that’s normal. the thing to try to remember is that the cookies were made with love, and the tin is washable. we can make new cookies to put in the tin. i’ll make them with you. they’ll be rainbow colored.

anyway, here’s a brief story about a time that i had to emergency land with my brother in an airplane.

so before i moved in with my mom, my brother and i would shuttle back and forth from my dad’s house in massachusetts to my mom’s in virginia. we’d fly as unaccompanied minors, which, if you don’t know, is the absolute best way to fly and if i could convincingly play a 10-year-old i’d do it every time. as an unaccompanied minor you are the most important person on the plane, which suited both my constant need for attention and inability to complete very simple tasks without firm guidance. sometimes the captain comes out to talk to you and gives you a sweet pin with wings on it. you get to board before everybody else, which is probably the feature i miss most about no longer being young and vulnerable.

my brother and i are very different people, by the way. i can be best described as “a corgi that is always furious when you aren’t feeding or petting it,” and he’s more of, like, a lizard that wants to be left alone and wishes people would never look at or notice it.

  • “the way you talk about your brother did not prepare me for him being hot,” is something a friend said to me once, which, first of all, that’s a Wrong And Bad thing to say, but also probably very fair considering i just called him a lizard.
  • i just mean, you know. temperamentally.

on these plane rides i would always get out of my seat as soon as we were allowed to and wander up and down the aisles, talking to people. i truly believed that everyone wanted to talk to me, The Cool Kid With The Wings Pin. in hindsight, i am very sure that everyone one of those gentle souls wanted to be left alone to read their john grisham novel, but they were all sweet to me regardless.

all of this is basically to tell you that once, my brother and i were flying from my dad’s to my mom’s–or maybe from my mom’s back to my dad’s?–when the plane, like, malfunctioned. now, i was a wee little butterball so nobody on the plane thought to sit down and explain to me exactly what was wrong, but i remember that the plane started to shake really badly.

the pilot did that Calm Voice Of Authority thing that pilots and headmasters do where he said, “we’re going to have to emergency land at a different airport*, everybody stay chill,” in the same tone of voice you’d ask someone to pass you the salt. 

  • *for some reason, i think the different airport was in connecticut?

my brother, who was born a 90-year-old stand up citizen with the tax code memorized, immediately began to try to comfort me. but i was just a Smol Bean who had not yet been touched by death and didn’t understand the concept of mortality, so i fully Did Not understand why he was being so nice.

  • “it’s okay, molly. we’re going to land and they’ll fix the plane and it’ll all be fine.”
  • “yeah, i know, that’s what the pilot just said.”
  • “there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
  • “of course there isn’t, nothing bad has ever happened to me and nothing bad will ever happen to me because i’m Me and that’s not how the world works.”
  • “we’re going to make it home tonight.”
  • “UNLESS we get to stay at a HOTEL by OURSELVES!!!”
  • “no, that’s–that’s not…..okay.”

i remember that i kept trying to unbuckle my seatbelt so i could get a better look at the window, and my poor brother had to very patiently hold my hands away from the buckle to be like, “FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE PLEASE LISTEN TO THE FIGURES OF AUTHORITY AND DON’T UNDO IT. DO NOT.”

as the plane started to descend, the shaking ratcheted up. like, we went from rocking chair to shake weight in the span of a minute. at this point, all the passengers on the plane are freaking out. everyone was doing that Terrified Adult thing where they were pretending not to be scared by loudly talking to one another about the thing they were scared about.

  • “haha! this plane sure is rattling, isn’t it, nancy?”
  • “it sure is todd!!!!! it’s like we’re in a trashbin rolling down stairs to our deaths!!!”
  • “haha nancy!!!!!!”
  • “haha todd!!!!”

meanwhile, Smol Bean Mozzy thought she was on a terribly fun rollercoaster in the sky and was completely unperturbed by what may have been very real danger. my poor brother,  however, was swept into the hysteria of the woman between me and the window, an older woman. i kind of think she was wearing a really horribly colored shawl, but i can’t #confirm that because i was very young and who knows where the hell that lady is these days.

“the truth is, if we really go down, there’s very little chance of surviving this close to the front of the plane,” she told my brother, almost preternaturally calm. i think she had accepted that death was probably coming. “they tell you to put your seat back up but with where we’re sitting we’ll be the first to go.” 

“um,” said my brother.

  • i want to say up front that we were not crash landing. nobody worry. we were emergency landing for a reason i forget, but very probably it wasn’t actually a life-or-death situation except that every tiny mishap on an airplane FEELS like a life-or-death situation because you are in an airplane.
  • but don’t worry.
  • we were fine.

“we could try getting into crash position,” the old lady suggested, bending in her seat and putting her head between her knees. 

good to know at least SOMEONE is listening to the safety announcements, eh, flight attendants of the world?

“you and your sister should do this too,” she told my brother. “like i said, it probably won’t help, but you never know.”

“oh…..kay,” said my brother, who was young enough to assume that adults were always right but old enough to feel like he was getting some weird advice. 

he got into impact position and made me do it, too. i mean, i was pretty much that gif of elmo on the toilet at this point, fully unaware of the gravity of the situation.

  • “TRALALA I LOVE FLYING AND MILKSHAKES!” - me, while hurtling toward the earth

“these crash landing instructions are probably just to comfort us,” said the Old Woman Ready For Death, blandly. “like putting t-shirts on dogs during thunderstorms. i’ve never understood that, have you?”

“do you think we can get ROOM SERVICE in the hotel room we’re gonna have all to OURSELVES?” i asked, my voice muffled from being between my knees.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER ANY OF THESE QUESTIONS,” said my brother, distressed and folded in half like an airborne soft taco.

for those of you wondering, we didn’t get our own hotel room. we stopped for like two hours, reboarded, and flew home, where i explained lividly to my father that we didn’t even get FREE FOOD and my poor brother had a quiet meltdown in the backseat, which actually sums up both our personalities back then pretty well.

  • molls ofgeo: primarily concerned about food since 1991.

anyway, for a while after that my brother was NOT a big fan of flying. i never really understood why, because all my memories were of being treated like the Queen of England as an unaccompanied minor, but having just told this story, in hindsight………..it seems……….pretty obvious.

like, pretty glaringly obvious, actually.