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quillquiver · 4 years

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a damn good place to start

DeanCas Coda to 15x15, Dean POV, subtextual references to the Empty deal

“…And I know,” Cas is saying, “that things have been a little strained between the two of you, so…” He trails off, looking down at the truck’s keys as he fiddles with them. “I thought it best I go on my own.” He punctuates the end of his little speech with a shrug, surreptitiously looking up at the entrance like it’ll get him outside any faster.

Dean forces a smile to his face, and a nod, and raises the bottle of whiskey to his mouth.

“Dean—”

“Nah,” Dean says, waving him off. “You were just gonna leave, weren’t you? Without telling me? You prob’ly woulda called tomorrow and dropped the bomb and then that’s it, right? I see you when I see you—unless I don’t, ‘cause y’know.” Dean takes another swig. “Death.”

Cas watches him warily.

“I mean, it’s not like you’ve spent every damn moment leaving me lately. First trying to find Amara, now this…”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Life ain’t fair. Hey, you ever think I might wanna come with you to save the kid?”

“You’re still angry at him—”

“So?” Dean demands. “He’s my kid, too. And you’re—and what, you think it’s just cool that you just take the choice away? That you make the decision? That you throw yourself on the sword every damn time an opportunity rolls around? You need to be here—”

“You’re the one who celebrated our child’s birthday without me, practically pushed me out the door to find Amara, and insisted Jack and I work a completely separate case!”

“Because you do stupid things, Cas! You’re safer here.”

“Well, I wasn’t here when you had that woman over, was I?” Cas rounds. “Mrs. Butters? It seemed you were all doing exceedingly well without me—”

“What the hell are you talking about—”

“Christmas!” Cas explodes. “New years and Thanksgiving a-and whatever other holidays humans have come up with these days to honour family and togetherness! Your complaints are noted, Dean, but as much as you needed me in Purgatory, my presence was clearly not required to celebrate family—”

“That’s fucking bullshit—”

“—At the end of the day, Jack is my son and my responsibility, and I will not stand by—”

“THEN GO!”

Cas freezes.

“…Fucking go, then,” Dean says, swallowing thickly. “You don’t think you’re a part of this family? Fine. I dunno how else to prove it to you. But just know that you left this time. Okay? You left. Not me. And I didn’t push you away.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, and just for the record: Mrs. Butters was forced labour for the Old Men—she showed up out of the blue, and she had real fucked up ideas about family. She didn’t trust us. She didn’t give us space. She wasn’t—anything.”

Cas’s eyes fill with tears and Dean forces himself to watch. To look. Because the last time they talked like this, Castiel walked out the door and didn’t come back, and Dean doesn’t want to miss a second of him, this time. He wants to remember the furrow of his brow and the way he clutches at his keys and how he shuffles in place.

And Dean realizes, suddenly and emphatically, that he can either watch him walk away again, or…

Or.

He takes a deep breath. Steels himself. Tries to remember that this is what you do for people you care about: you help. “Do you have a lead?”

“No, but—”

“Then just…” It’s fucked up, how scary reaching out his hand is; he’s killed more nightmarish shit than any normal person could shake a stick at, but holding out his hand for Cas to take feels like willingly throwing himself from an airplane without knowing his damn parachute works. “Stay tonight,” he says, praying his voice doesn’t shake. “We’ll see if we can get you a lead, and you’re out of here at first light, alright?”

Cas stares.

“I get wanting to save the kid. I do. But you’re no good to anyone dead, and you got nothing to go on. Just—let me help you.”

More staring.

“Cas,” Dean says, verging on begging with the way he wriggles his fingers. Come on come on come on.

“…Okay,” Cas says. He sounds more quietly suspicious than anything else, but all Dean hears is yes, as nimble fingers skate over his palm and grasp his forearm. A warrior’s pact. “First light.”

“First light,” Dean agrees. He carefully steps back towards the library, half-scared that if he turns around Cas’ll just make for the exit. Cas’s hand slips downdown until they’re holding hands.

Dean’s heart leaps and butterflies zing in his belly, and he tries to remember to be grateful of what he has, instead of upset by everything he doesn’t.

***

They cut it close, but Cas has a whisper of a ghost of something potentially useful to go on by the time Dean is walking him to the shitty old truck. He wants to sleep for a year, but even that isn’t as important as this; as Cas throwing arms around Dean’s shoulders and squeezing, murmuring his thanks, itching to get on the road. Dean holds him for just a moment longer. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft with a lack of inhibitions only bone-deep exhaustion can bring. “You’re not replaceable, okay? You gotta come back.”

Cas’s breath hitches. He nods. And Dean’s too tired to stop himself from petting a hand through his soft, dark hair, and too weak to keep himself from smiling after. “Knock ‘em dead, huh?”

When Cas pulls away, his blue eyes are bright with tears. His mouth twists into something agonized, moving like he’s trying to speak but mangling all the words before they get out. “I—Dean, I—”

And, somehow, this part isn’t scary at all.

It’s nothing for Dean to lean in and kiss him, the thing soft and almost absurd in its simplicity. In its sweetness. It’s probably the gentlest kiss Dean has ever given another person, ‘cause—well, Cas shoulders the weight of the world, and this isn’t something else for him to carry. This is something for them to share, even as he clutches at Dean’s robe, even as he cries harder. Even as he pushes forward, Dean keeps him gentle. Soothes him with a hand in his hair and another thumbing at his jaw until they’re kissing in earnest once, twice, three times; again and again and again until Dean loses count.

When Cas pulls away, he wells up again, and Dean shakes his head. He thinks he should be more worried about this—Cas crying is something he’s only ever seen twice before, and it’s never been like this. But the alarm bells are overshadowed by everything else: God, Amara, Jack… if Cas wants to cry, he’s damn well earned it.

He puts his own hand to the one Dean has pressed against his stubbled cheek, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean, I—”

Dean hushes him. Presses fingertips to Cas’s lips. “Later, okay? When you get back.”

Cas’s face twists into something painful even as he nods, tears spilling once again onto his cheeks as Dean wipes the wet tracks away. He looks beyond agony, like something’s tearing him up from the inside out, and it’s all Dean can do to assuage his fears by kissing him again, saying, “Hey, I know, okay?” And then, “…Me too.”

Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s biceps. “I wish we had more time.”

“We do.” Cas is clutching at his hands, now, touching him, always touching, as Dean throws caution to the damn wind and presses a kiss to their tangled fingers. “You’re coming back,” he murmurs. “We’re gonna go on dumb dates and you’re gonna have to sit through my Star Wars marathons and I’m gonna make you watch tentacle porn with me. You’re gonna hate it.”

Cas barks out a laugh, sniffling.

“Seriously,” Dean grins. “You’re gonna regret ever letting me kiss you.”

When Cas leans in for the first time, he’s a little clumsy; catching the corner of Dean’s mouth in a kiss so earnest and sweet Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. When he pulls away, he looks at Dean with intent. “Nothing could ever make me regret that,” he says lowly, seriously. “Nothing.”

It takes another while for Cas to get actually get into the truck—a lot of kissing and promising dumb shit like they’re the leads in a harlequin romance, only separated by the cruel whims of the Universe until they’re reunited for their happily ever after. It’s stupid, but as Dean watches Cas’s rickety old truck drive away, he thinks… maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s fucking owed that; a life with Cas and Jack and Sam, all of them under the same roof—no one suffering or lying or worried for their lives.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and Dean grins when he sees a heart emoji. Pressing the ‘call’ icon, he holds the thing up to his ear wearing the dumbest grin to ever grace his own stupid face.

Cas picks up on the first ring. “I thought you were supposed to be asleep.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to text and drive.”

“I pulled over.”

Dean beams at his slippers, phone clutched to his ear, blush heating his cheeks. Fine. Okay; maybe they don’t get all the bells and whistles of a harlequin happy ending. But this, right here?

It’s a damn good place to start.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #spn spoilers #s15 #15x15 #15.15 #spn 15x15 #so just to be clear #when cas is really upset he's upset because of the Empty deal #because Dean has made him beyond happy #but he knows that if he finds a way to save Jack it's over for him #this whole deal thing hurts so much fuck me #adventures in fanfic

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

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15x08: Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven

Then:

Fighting the good fight since 2010

Now:

At the Lucky Elephant Casino, God’s knocking back fruity drinks, playing slots, and murdering everyone around him. Things don’t look so fun in Chuck-land.

Meanwhile, Eileen is living her best new life hunting a werewolf. She’s kicking butt but has a temporary setback when Sam shows up. She shoves him out of the way to finish the job. She asks Sam if he’s following her. MAYBE he’s being a little overprotective, but c’mon, he did just bring her back from the dead. I’m guessing he’d like to keep her on the side of the living a little longer than a week or two.

Later at the bunker, they’re eating their respective burger (Eileen) and salad (Sam), and Dean walks in with the demon tablet. He’s hoping the tablet will reveal a weak spot with God. They’re going to need Donatello!

Cas knock’s on Donny’s door. Hmm, I see, divorced husbands still communicating about the case and Cas still doing things for the cause.

Donatello comes back to the bunker, but isn’t happy about it. He gets to work eating chicken wings and translating the tablet again. Sam, Dean, and Cas casually hang out in the library and sneak concerned looks towards the prophet.

Donny finds some footnotes written by Metatron about God’s secret fear that he only shared with “his favorite.” Lucifer was already locked away by the time the tablets were written. He must mean Michael. The problem with finding Michael is that he’s locked away in the Cage. Donatello starts to freak out over how overly dramatic TFW’s lives are but then passes out in a chair. He comes to --but it’s Chuck this time communicating directly through his prophet. He tells them to leave it alone. Then he threatens all the women in their lives if they don’t (and I just hate/love this because this calls back to early SPN so much when the women died for all their man-pain.)

They tell Donatello to go home. Then they all decide (Cas reluctantly) to go to Hell to find Michael. Dean sarcastically tells Cas that he can “stay here” at the bunker. And I can’t for the life of me find the post now, but whoever made a post of Dean increasingly going from sarcasm to flat out begging for Cas to stay at the bunker is my hero.

In the bunker’s kitchen, they cast the same spell Rowena used to get Cas and Belphagor to Hell before. Dean cuts his hand as part of the spell (something he’s done a thousand times before) and Cas takes the time to heal him (but doesn’t touch him like he normally does) and it takes so much of him to do it. I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit before proceeding.

Once in Hell, Cas leads the way until they run into a bunch of badass lady demons that completely kick their asses. Well, they do until a very familiar voice bellows, “STOP!”

It’s ROWENA!!!

She’s now Queen of Hell. She’s also posturing up a storm. Ah. They tell her they want to lock up Chuck and they’re looking for Michael. She tells them he could be anywhere. The Cage opened just like the rest of the doors in Hell. She sends her demon minions to find Michael.

Back at the bunker, Eileen is watching over the spell, and she gets a call from Sue, another hunter. She needs help with a vamp nest. Eileen agrees to help as soon as she’s done helping TFW.

In Hell, TFW meets with Rowena in her throne room. She tells Sam that killing her was a good thing. She’s queen! Then she asks him to get her another drink (!) so she can have a little therapy time with the other two clowns. She tells them to “fix it” because there’s no reconciliation in death. A demon comes in to inform them that Michael “is nowhere to be found.”

For Perfect Framing Science:

Actually, he can be found at Jaci’s Red Wagon diner. It seems that Adam and Michael are good buds and Adam’s currently enjoying his first burger in ten years.

Dean checks in with Donatello just one more leeeetle time to see if he’s gotten any Chuck-adjacent flashes. Just when you think you’re out, yadda yadda yadda… He THEN checks in with Sam about Eileen. She is FINE, Dean, they have “an agreement.” Dean picks up on Sam’s waffling, and tells Sam that she fits the parameters of a potential partner: she knows the life, plus she’s hot. That’s way better than the life Sam tried to build with Amelia, a bag of limes, and a dog. This conversation is also notable for Dean’s admission that he’d been in a very dark place not long ago but he’s climbing out of it now.

At the diner, Adam continues to chill with Michael and contemplate the future when Lilith arrives.

She’s there to bring Michael to Chuck. “I’m not accustomed to being fetched,” Michael says coldly. It looks like things are headed towards fisticuffs when Michael just…burns her to ash right there. Ah, archangels. (Side note: I rewatched this section with the sound off while gathering images and watching her performance is every bit as engaging. I’ll miss you, scrunchy-nose Lilith.)

Donatello has a vision and sees Michael’s spiteful smiting (smiteful?). He calls Dean with Michael’s location. He’s in Cairo! Time for Dean to hop on a plane and hold Cas’s hand nervously the entire time… I’m ready for an airplane destiel fic episode!

Cas has an alternate, non-hand-holding suggestion. He’ll pray to Michael instead. In the quiet of an upstairs corner of the bunker, next to a REAL and also METAPHORICAL CHESS SET, Cas characterizes their last meeting as “unpleasant” and asks to meet up. “I’m not your enemy anymore. Now we all have the same enemy. God himself.”

Mmmkay, compelling words. Michael meets Cas in a warehouse. He remembers Cas. “You called me assbutt and set me on fire.” LOL, classic. Cas faces Michael stoically and lights a circle of holy oil around him. That’s the Winchester’s cue to enter and they do so with STYLE.

DAMN!

Dean presents a set of warded cuffs for Michael’s consideration. There’s clearly only one way out of the circle of fire.

For Check out the Curtains Made of Chains SO PRETTY Science:

Michael is twenty-five shades of pissed off at being confined. In the bunker he accuses the Winchesters of abandoning their brother and then shocks them all by flashing Adam back in control.

Adam seems much more chill than Michael and reveals that he and the archangel only had each other in the cage so they came to an agreement. Dean, who only recently stopped dragging himself around in a post-Michael traumatic haze, is gobsmacked that Michael’s letting Adam walk and talk. He tells Adam that there’s nothing they can say to fix what they did by leaving him in the cage. “How about ‘I’m sorry?’” Adam suggests.

Michael wrests back control and we go back to Chuck talk. Team Free Will attempts to briefly explain that Chuck isn’t trying to usher in “boring” paradise. Instead, Michael’s dad would rather see everybody suffer, including Michael.

Adam pops back behind the helm and advises them to stop their paltry attempt at convincing Michael of Chuck’s perfidy. On his (their) own, Adam unpacks the situation. He doesn’t forgive the Winchesters for what they did, but he does think they’re operating from good intentions. I don’t remember where I saw this online, but somebody posted that they have never liked Adam more than in this episode. I completely agree! There’s a lovely amount of complexity and growth hinted at through this performance.

Michael finds it hard to shake off a near-eternity of being God’s favored son. God is “having a mid-eternity crisis,” Adam suggests. Maybe Michael should at least entertain the possibility that Chuck isn’t on the up-and-up. Michael doesn’t want to doubt his father. “You still care about that after he left you in the cage?” Adam asks.

Meanwhile, Eileen’s friend Sue calls again. She’s ready to move on the vamps and needs backup NOW. When Eileen hesitates, Sue needles her about having to ask for permission. Eileen rises to Sue’s barb and agrees to meet up. The camera tumbles, Sue swears, and Eileen acts immediately as the call ends. She races to Sam’s room and fills him in on her friend’s perilous situation. Together, they run off to give Sue backup. (I love how this scene both shows Eileen’s need to assert her own independence and her absolute trust and pragmatism in getting Sam to back her up.)

Cas heads in to speak with Adam/Michael. Michael is still not on board the fight-Chuck train. Cas responds with sass, as is his custom. “I never liked you. I thought you were too haughty. Too…to paraphrase a friend, you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.”

Now Cas finds him pitiable. Michael isn’t God’s favorite. He’s just a tiny part of Chuck’s favorite soap opera. DAMN, Cas.

Cas goes even further, telling Michael that Lucifer was the smart one all along, and Michael SNAPS. He flips Cas over the table and gets him in a headlock. Cas struggles, and manages to lock both his hands on Michael’s temples. It’s brain zapping time! Even an archangel is no match for Cas’s mind mojo, and Cas dumps a clip show of Chuck being a dick writer into Michael’s head.

Later, Cas decompresses alone in the kitchen. Dean arrives, then suggests that Cas might have misjudged the situation and gone too far with Michael. D E A N. Before Cas left, Michael essentially said, “Leave. Get out. I want you dead.” We’ve all been in agony for several days now over the parallels between this line and what Cas thinks he’s getting from Dean and AAAAUGH THE SWEET PAIN OF IT. “We didn’t bond,” Cas summarizes. If you need me, I’ll be hunched in this burning dumpster, muttering about profound bonds.

The bunker rattles, and they race to Michael’s room. He greets them with, “God lied to me.” He gave everything for Chuck, but it turns out he’s not even unique across the multiverse if there are other Michaels out there.

Sam and Eileen arrive at the hunt and discover abandoned vehicles. Sam’s suspicion bone is tingling, but then Sue shows up. She’s got this swagger, so Boris and I immediately assume she’s been turned into a vamp because we’ve been watching this show since forever. Uh, Sue’s not a vamp. She’s Chuck! Or…you know, Chuck’s her! [Admiral Ackbar voice] It’s a trap!

Michael agrees to help Team Free Will. He pulls out a slip of paper with a spell on it that can contain Chuck just like it contained Amara. All they need is myrrh, cassia, rock-rose, and the nectar of a leviathan blossom. It’s a flower that grows in Purgatory. Michael opens up a rift-style door with the snap of his fingers.

The door will stay open for twelve hours. Dean uncuffs Michael/Adam and apologizes for what happened to his half brother. Adam smiles sadly and wishes them luck in their Chuck-fighting endeavors. After he/they leave, Cas and Dean turn towards the glowing rift. It’s Purgatory time, baby! And you know what they say about Purgatory. It’s the perfect place to work out your emotions in a friendly, non-deadly environment!

Quotingmoon in Purgatory:

There’s a crack in his invincibility shield

When I go crazy again, just shoot me

Usually I enjoy our little process. I toss something at you guys and you slam it right back. It’s fun! Like tennis! With monsters

What am I picking up from you two? A wee tif? Tell your Auntie Rowena

Why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?

Oh, I didn’t come to beg

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 15x08 #our father who aren't in heaven #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #chuck shurley #eileen leahy #rowena macleod #donatello redfield #adam milligan #michael #lillith #supernatural season 15

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 5 years

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a most holy sin

i watched Bohemian Rhapsody and cried at least 12 times so of course i was (loosely) inspired by it and had to write an ineffable husbands fanfic. i definitely listened to a Best of Queen playlist while i wrote it, too. i hope you enjoy and please forgive historical and medical inaccuracies because im sure there are some. also for some reason the line break isn't working?? i'm going to try to add it again later.

(I know Gabriel does not technically outrank Aziraphale but for the sake of plot he's gonna be in charge of Earthly affairs.)

WARNING: There is usage of homophobic slurs at a point in this story. If you are sensitive to such, either be wary as you read or simply do not read this fic. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings if you keep scrolling.

~*~

"I'd like to be temporarily stationed in America."

Gabriel looked up from his desk, every inch of it covered in paperwork. Glasses that Aziraphale knew very well the archangel did not need slid down his nose. Gabriel pushed them back up. "Why?"

Succinct. As per usual. Aziraphale pretended that he was not twisting his ring anxiously around his pinky as he spoke. "Well, I do read American papers every so often, and I've been keeping tabs on a certain, er, an epidemic, of sorts, that is happening over there."

Gabriel removed the silver frames from his nose, folding them and placing them on his desk. "Right. The AIDS epidemic."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured. "Yes, quite. I assure you that I don't intend to miracle up a cure for the disease. It's best to let humans work through that on their own, I assume. I simply wish to - to ease the pain of those in the final stages."

Gabriel was silent. Aziraphale began to wonder if he was pushing his luck with this request. He'd nearly been discovered with Crowley only two decades or so ago, not to mention his boss was not known for being the friendliest or the most sympathetic of angels -

"Yes."

Aziraphale blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said yes, you may go." Gabriel sighed, scrawling his signature on a document in glittering gold ink before shoving the paper away. "I have also been keeping up with information on the epidemic. Those victims could certainly use some angelic kindness right now, what with so many being rejected by their families even as they're on their deathbeds. Beelzebub undoubtedly has a special place in Hell for those sorts of nasty people, I'm sure."

"And we have a special place in Heaven for the victims?"

"Precisely." Gabriel returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. "You're dismissed, Aziraphale. Don't stay too long."

"Of course," Aziraphale breathed, nodding. He was almost unable to believe everything had worked out so well. "Thank you, Gabriel." Not wanting to overstay his visit and risk having the decision reversed, Aziraphale promptly left. He considered taking the back exit out, but it wasn't as if he was in a rush. He still had to pack, after all.

It was quite a shame he couldn't simply miracle himself to America. Airplanes were... Less than enjoyable, in Aziraphale's opinion. But miracles had to be preserved.

He didn't want to think about how many he might have to perform in the very near future.

~*~

America, circa 1990

Aziraphale had ditched his usual tartan suit for new tartan scrubs. He was posing as a nurse, working in a ward delegated specifically to victims of AIDS in the final stages. As much as it pained him, he refrained from miracling them back into health. God probably would not take too kindly to that, what with the circle of life and all, even considering Her infinite generosity. Instead, Aziraphale eased their pain as they passed to Heaven. If nothing else, they deserved to know that good things awaited them on the other side.

"Room 636, Nurse Fell," a woman called to Aziraphale as he walked down the hall. Her voice had the rounded edge of a faint Southern drawl. "He's got family with him right now, but they'll be out soon."

"Right. Thank you." He nodded at her as she passed. Aziraphale had memorized the layout of the hospital before he'd started "working" there - it helped him maximize his time with the patients. Not to mention he had to be back in Soho before the end of the year.

"This is your own fault, you know."

Aziraphale froze.

"You're the who grew up and decided to be a fucking fag, goddamnit!"

He recognized that tone. It was one he heard all too often in the AIDS ward.

"And now that choice is killing you. Just like it killed your little queer boyfriend."

Aziraphale resisted the urge to swear. Of course the voice was coming from room 636.

"Hope you're happy with yourself. Hope you're proud."

The man's words were laced with more venom than the world's deadliest snake could provide. Aziraphale reached for the door handle, only to find that it had been locked. Very much against hospital regulations, but also rather common in these situations.

"This is the devil's consequence. You know why they're calling it the 'gay plague'? Because only fags are getting it." The man sighed, an intensified frustration bleeding into his tone. "You just had to be a queer, didn't you? You had to be the family disappointment." His voice dropped, and he growled the lethal blow. "I can't believe I ever called you my son."

Aziraphale didn't care if Heaven reprimanded him. He snapped his fingers, unlocking the door and entering the room without a moment's hesitation. He straightened his back and stared down the father. "Sir, I am going to have to ask that you leave here immediately."

The man's lip curled in disgust. "A queer nurse? I should have known."

Aziraphale ignored the comment, standing his ground. "I must insist that you leave, or else I'll be forced to call security."

For a moment, Aziraphale was afraid the man wouldn't go. But after a long pause, he left in a furious silence.

Aziraphale rushed over to the patient's bed. He was young, in his late teens or early twenties. Still a boy, really. And that only made it all the more heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Aziraphale checked the IV in the boy's arm, making sure it remained connected. "You don't deserve to be treated like something is wrong with you."

"Maybe there is something wrong with me."

Sweat beaded the boy's forehead, and Aziraphale's heart ached a little more when he saw tearstains on his cheeks.

"Am I really going to Hell, nurse?" the boy whispered. "Was falling in love really a sin?" He closed his eyes, biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep himself from sobbing. "I loved him. I loved him so much. All I did was fall in love."

"My dear boy." Aziraphale pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed before sitting down. "Of course you aren't going to Hell. Believe me, falling in love is no sin."

"That's not what my father thinks." His voice was bitter. Much too bitter for someone who likely had just started university.

"Well, fathers don't know everything," Aziraphale replied. "Trust me, dear boy. There is nothing you have to fear in death."

The boy wiped tears from his eyes. "Yeah? How would you know?"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The Almighty really was not going to be pleased with him. So many miracles only a few minutes apart was sure to get him reprimanded. Or maybe it wouldn't. He never could tell what exactly She would approve or disapprove of.

The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sudden change of his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but Aziraphale stopped him.

"Careful, now. I'm simply giving you a peek into what awaits you."

The boy shook his head in disbelief. "Is this - is this Heaven?"

"Indeed." A part of it, at least. A lovely little spot of paradise that was reminiscent of Eden. Many enjoyed it when they first ascended to Heaven. A place to get acclimated.

The boy stared at Aziraphale. "You're an angel."

Aziraphale's wings fluttered, as if responding to the query. "Yes, I am. I requested to be stationed in America to help ease the pain of those suffering from AIDS. People in the... Final stages of the disease."

The boy nodded. A faint smile appeared on his lips. "That means I'm dying, then."

Young people truly were getting more perceptive. "I'm afraid so, my dear." Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the vision of Heaven dissipated. Regretfully, his wings went, too.

The boy sighed, leaning back more deeply into the hospital bed's pillow. "Would you believe me if I told you that I'm going to miss my father?"

Aziraphale didn't respond. He knew an answer wasn't expected.

"I'm going to miss him. Even if -" The boy's voice cracked. "Even if he hates me, he was the only family I had. I forgive him, and - and I want God to forgive him, too."

"She will," Aziraphale murmured, his voice so low only he could hear it. "She always does."

The boy's heart rate was dropping. Aziraphale resisted every instinct in his body to save him. He could not interfere. It was not his responsibility to influence Earthly life and death.

"At least I'll get to see Miles again," the boy breathed. Tears were trickling down his face. "It's been a long year without him."

He closed his eyes.

The machine flatlined.

Aziraphale could sense the boy's spirit leaving his body. He returned the chair to the side of the room, then slid the curtain shut around the bed.

"I'm sorry, angel."

Aziraphale didn't know when he'd started crying. "I can't imagine even your lot could be responsible for this, Crowley."

There was a pause. "AIDS itself is one of the final gifts of Pestilence unto Earth, despite that they retired eons ago." Footsteps echoed in the quiet room, moving closer to Aziraphale. "But only humans could be so cruel to one another."

"I know," Aziraphale whispered. "And I think that's the worst part of all." He didn't even blink as Crowley stepped in front of him, brushing away his tears with his thumb.

"There's nothing you can do, angel," Crowley murmured. "You know that."

Aziraphale did know that. He hated it, but he knew it all too well. "I just - I just don't understand. All they do is fall in love, Crowley! What could have wrong in human history where they started to believe that love was sinful?"

Aziraphale expected a witty comment in response. A dry quip about Catholics, or the Shaker community. He certainly had not prepared himself for a serious answer.

"When did Heaven and Hell start believing it?"

Crowley's sunglasses slid down his nose. He took them off, tucking them into his jacket. They stared at each other, eye to eye.

"I've been - I've been wondering that myself," Aziraphale stammered. His voice was hushed. "But it's not my place to question it."

Crowley shrugged. "The Almighty has been more forgiving as of late. Since it's you, She just might allow it."

"I - I couldn't possibly."

"I know, angel." He sighed. "I know."

Neither spoke after that. But neither made a move to walk away.

Aziraphale knew he had to leave. He had to report the death of the young man so the room could be available for other patients. But he couldn't bring himself to step away from Crowley.

The stood only inches apart. Aziraphale wasn't certain whether he'd reached for Crowley's hand or if the demon had grabbed his, but their fingers were intertwined and Aziraphale knew damn well he didn't want to let go.

"How did you find me?" he finally asked. "I don't recall telling you I was leaving Soho. Or where I was going." In fact, they hadn't spoken since 1967. The night in the Bentley.

Crowley shrugged. In a rare moment of tenderness, his thumb gently brushed over Aziraphale's knuckles. "The city feels different when you're not there."

"O-Oh. I see." Aziraphale found his gaze drifting down from Crowley's eyes to his lips. He didn't fail to notice that Crowley had lessened the distance between them even further.

"Is love a sin, angel?" Crowley whispered. His free hand moved to cup Aziraphale's cheek. "Because if so, it must be the holiest sin there is."

Aziraphale would have laughed had the tension between them not been almost suffocating. "Well, my dear, I really don't think there's such thing as a 'holy' sin -"

He was cut off as Crowley captured his mouth with his. Aziraphale found himself melting into the kiss, pulling the demon towards him. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale placed his arms around Crowley's neck.

He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't know why he shouldn't be, because every atom in his body was telling him that this was right, that this was love, that Crowley was all he needed -

But he couldn't.

Aziraphale pulled away, certain that regret was written all over his face. He couldn't bring himself to look Crowley in the eyes. "I'm sorry. You deserve - you deserve better than me."

Crowley laughed. It was harsh. Bitter. "I'm a demon, angel. I don't 'deserve' anything. It's part of the job description. In the fine print. Non-negotiable. You know that." He yanked his sunglasses out of his pocket and shoved them onto his face.

"No." Aziraphale's voice refused to move above a whisper. "You deserve everything, my dear. Anything you want. The whole world."

"I don't want the whole damn world. I only want you."

Aziraphale forced himself to look at Crowley. The demon's expression was unreadable behind the black lenses. "I can't, Crowley. Not now. Not yet."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "'Yet'?"

Aziraphale nodded. "One day, I'll - I'll be ready. To go faster. As fast as you. I swear it. Just - Just not today." And he meant it. More than anything he'd ever said. "Will you... Wait for me?"

A small smile appeared on Crowley's lips. It was a rare sight, but one of Aziraphale's favorites.

"For you, angel? Always."

Aziraphale blinked, and the demon was gone. He didn't know when they'd see each other again. He didn't know what the future would hold for them, either. But when Crowley had left, he'd taken all of Aziraphale's tears with him. As he so often did.

Perhaps his demon had a point.

If love was a sin, it truly was a holy one.

Maybe even one worth Falling for.

~*~

im a mess, y'all. i love these two more than i love myself. i hope you enjoyed! feel free to send me prompt requests for them or for ineffable bureaucracy because both are such good pairings.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #anthony crowley #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #my post #my fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #archangel gabriel #tw: homophobic slurs #aids crisis #amy writes

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dotthings · 5 years

Text

SPN 14.20 HOLY F*CKING I AM BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS HERE THAT WAS A GOOD. And a great set-up for S15.

*SNAPS FINGERS*

Let me try for some coherency. I scribbled watching notes.

Cas. :( Well I am not a bit surprise he’s not own with this. I don’t see how else he’s supposed to feel. Or how else Dean would feel. Or how Sam would feel. Sorry if TFW is so inexplicable to some people but they’re all making perfect sense to me. It’s sad but they make sense.

That Dean and Cas argument with Sam in the middle like :0 :| poor Sam, poor poor Sam, imagine having to watch all this intense Dean and Cas, he hates it when they bicker, and this is a real argument.

“I know how much he meant to you. He meant a lot to me. But that isn’t Jack any more.” So there it is, the truth beneath Dean’s walls he put up. None of this is because Dean is cold or uncaring. He is, however, still very angry and still (thinks) that he has to kill Jack. The place Dean lands with Jack in this ep also doesn’t surprise me because I been knew and that makes sense too but it also makes sense that right up the line, he’d think he has to kill Jack and follow that anger. This is an extraordinary situation in fact. Even though TFW have been faced with not-versions of themselves before, they’ve never killed another family member while in that state. And I think Jack’s escalating danger levels in this ep pretty much vindicates why someone might think he has to be killed...even though Jack isn’t evil or malicious still (more on that in a moment).

“Nerds.” “Takes one to know one.”

I was just talking about this about Dean. About his facades and how he used to mock nerds and geeks--still does even now--but is actually the biggest geek and I love that Sam calls him on his nerd qualities. His nerd traits. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING.

So nobody at all can lie any more and the world, as a result, starts tearing apart at the seams. Look SPN, when I said I wanted more emotional honesty...lololol that’s not what I meant. Some lies are necessary.

Oh my god it’s God. Hi, Chuck. (I was spoiled for this, it was still really fun when Chuck just popped up in the alley).

“Jack. He’s a problem.” NO REALLY I HADN’T NOTICED YOU DON’T SAY

Cas was going to see about the cage in Hell. Was he thinking he could put Jack in it?? Was that his alternative to just killing him?

Jack visiting his grandmother and she calling Jack out on the fact that he lied to them. Oh snap, Jack. You’re sick of all the lies but you told one (for a kindness). Some lies are necessary. You lied to people too.

This episode has some realness here about what holds society together and different types of honesty. Lying is wrong...except 100% blunt honestly all the time would be a complete disaster and there are some lies we need to tell for the sake of kindness, for community, for forgiveness, or it all will fall apart. Which lies are too far and which are necessary. Can a lie hurt but also be for a kindness and be necessary? SPN has had its main characters lie for years. They lie with credit card scams so they can pay for gas and food and lodging. They lie about who they’re secretly working with behind each other’s backs. All of Team Free Will has lied to each other. Kept things from each other. It doesn’t go well for them. Yet here’s an ep showing that some types of lies are necessary as part of the fabric of society.

Dean is sooooo done with God’s bullshit I am laughing. This is also really subversive because yes we love Chuck and his guitar. Chuck singing Fare-thee-Well. Chuck as a likeable (if irresponsible deadbeat dad) figure on SPN. But how benevolent is he actually? And they don’t have time for a song right now, they just don’t.

Team Free Will are still speaking to each other after Cas stormed out. That’s a good sign!

“I built the sandbox. You play in it...but when things get really bad that’s when I step in.”

Uh...kinda. Sometimes, Chuck. Yes he’s intervened a few times. He put Sam and Dean on the airplane. He put Cas back together more than once. He stepped up when he needed do about Amara at the end of S11. So maybe a C+ on actually being there in a pinch.

“Jack is apocalyptic.” Which--self-evident right there in the ep, thanks, Chuck. Oh and can we stop pretending Jack isn’t incredibly dangerous at least? Oh he’s not just dangerous he is world-endingly dangerous. Note I rooted for Jack to be okay, and want him to be saved, but the situation is what it is right now.

It made a lot of sense to spec based on the ep title Chuck was going to show up to intervene and stop TFW from having to kill Jack, and I’m sure with a reference that blatant in that title, Dabb knew that would be the assumption. It made sense. The overturning of that is interesting here. Chuck didn’t show up and didn’t show up and when he finally does it’s to hand them the weapon to destroy Jack. Which at this point in the ep I’m still wondering--but it could be a test. Let’s see what happens.

Oh. Whoever shoots the gun, what happens to the target, happens to them. Aaaand we’re back to Dean with a self-sacrificing plan.

Damn Cas is so damn salty still about the Dean-in-the-box plan I love it. He hates that plan. Now he’s extra special plus cranky because he’s looking now at losing Jack and losing Dean simultaneously. I’ve talked a lot in my posts about Cas’s big love for both Jack and Dean. This is diabolical. Cas could lose them both with one gunshot. Of course he doesn’t want his son to die...but he doesn’t want Dean to die. Save Jack...means saving Dean too.

I really loved this Sam and Dean scene and while Cas doesn’t get to verbalize what’s going on in his head, Sam certainly gets to vocalize what Sam’s thinking. “I’m the one who brought him back. He burned his soul off to save you and me. You want me to say I’m okay with losing you and losing him all at once. I can’t do that. I’ve already lost too much.” MIC DROP SAM WINCHESTER.

“I don’t feel anything.” There’s the crux of the Jack Problem. He intellectually understands what’s “good” and what’s “bad” but he doesn’t, in his own words, feel it. He’s the most powerful being on the planet and he’s completely hollow inside, lacking true empathy, lacking instincts, strong attachments, an innate sense of right and wrong. That’s...really terrifying. It’s really not at all hateful to Jack to comprehend how scary that combination is. “I want to love you back, it’s just I can’t.”

This is. Damn. We saw AU Cas in ep 300, what happens when Cas never learned to access his emotions. As an angel, our Cas was taught that emotions were bad, they were a weakness. He was taught not to heed them. To control them. To never be led by his heart or his feelings. But instead of heeding that, Cas led with his whole heart, he often drowned in his own emotions, overwhelmed by them. He has intense attachments and pain and loneliness and fear and even moments of peace and joy. He feels it all. He’s the most feeling angel to ever feel, and how painfully on point is it that his son is now...emotionless.

“You’re my favorite show.” Wow it got super meta in here, Chuck.

“Why does it always have to be on us,” wonders the tormented characters. “Because you’re my guys!” gushes the enthusiastic Winchester fan, God.

I feel so called out right now. I do. While I am certainly in the camp that feels that too much torture porn angst without hope is a weaker story, like many fans, there is a certain catharsis and satisfaction in watching our favorite characters suffer and triumph and keep on going and not let the suffering defeat them.

In this ep Dabb is taking that idea and expanding it out to a walking talking metaphor, embodied in Chuck, who turns out to be a toxic wielder of suffering for his own amusement. Tying to Jack’s lack of emotions, Chuck seems okay with others suffering. It’s not that he lacks feelings, because he gets something from watching these “characters” suffer, but he’s lacking in empathy because he doesn’t seem to care that they’re suffering and in the world of SPN these are not characters, these are real people he’s jerking around making them dance to his angst-buttons for his own enjoyment.

Cas still is clinging on to hope that Jack can be fixed and my heart hurts for him. At this point, I’m still hoping Jack can be...but it’s not looking good.

Jack kneeling in front of Dean to be killed. Because while he’s dangerous, no he’s not evil or malicious. “I understand. You were right all along. I am a monster.” This is just...really sad. I’m sad.

Oh, SPN, you tried so hard, but I never thought Dean would be able to pull that trigger. Also the tragedy of Dean--he didn’t hesitate because Dean had a sudden revelation he wants to live so he’s not going to seppuku the problem after all. No, it’s because he just couldn’t do it to Jack in the end, to his son, who had earned his love and his trust after a rough start. Dean understands that this Jack isn’t the Jack he recently knew and Dean also understands how far gone Jack is and how dangerous. Yet he still can’t do it. This makes perfect sense to me. I could also see how he might have pulled that trigger (and that would have been horrible and it would have hurt Dean so much...and I don’t just mean because of the magic ricochet of that gun...it would be too much. And...it looks like this ep agrees with me on a textual and meta-textual level. Uh-huh.)

"This isn’t how this story is supposed to end.” Chuck, our author, isn’t enjoying the fact that his characters are doing things he didn’t plan on and didn’t intend (which happens during the creative process).

“Pull the trigger and I’ll bring her back,” Chuck offers. “No.” says Dean. “My mom is my hero and I will miss her every day of my life but she wouldn’t want this.”

And then Sam goes OFF. “over and over and over again...losing people we love.”

“This isn’t just a story. This is our lives.”

I am LOVING THIS. I actually clapped my hands with meta-ish glee.

THE CHARACTERS ARE REBELLING AGAINST SPN’S OWN RELIANCE ON MISERY PORN AND I AM LIVING.

This is so self-critical. On a story/character level, this is amazing for Sam and Dean, who are defying fate, refusing yet again to be jerked around by a cosmic puppetmaster. Sam goes as far as defying the idea that they don’t deserve to be happy. Not in so many words. But he is flipping off the concept that all they are good for is suffering AND I AM SO PROUD and I think Dean gets it too but oh my poor Dean was just willing to commit seppuku and while Dean is rejecting being puppetted around, not for anyone, not even to save Mary, I don’t know if he’s at the place where he sees it how Sam does--that screw you, I don’t deserve to suffer like this open defiance.

So Sam shoots God. lololol for a hot second there I thought Sam was going to kill God and welp that would have been a plot twist but no, just a flesh wound so Sam is wounded too.

Chuck’s not thrilled his favorite human pets aren’t playing along for his amusement.

“Story’s over. Welcome to the end.”

LIGHTS OUT.

Well. God was the big bad all along. GOD WAS THE BIGGEST BAD OF SPN ALL ALONG.

I was hoping Jack wouldn’t have to die. At least none of his dads had to kill him and the set-up with Jack landing in The Empty seems like he’s not gone forever. WHAT DID BILLIE MEAN “WE HAVE TO TALK.” About what. What is going on.

WHAT IS HAPPENING

IS THAT LA LLARONA

THAT’S BLOODY FREAKIN’ MARY

HOLY CRAP THE SOULS OF THEIR EARLIEST CASES ARE RISING FROM HELL

ALL THE SOULS ARE RISING FROM HELL

WE ALL SPECCED HEAVEN WOULD BREAK AND THE SOULS IN HEAVEN WOULD GET LOSE AND INSTEAD IT WAS ALL THE SOULS FROM HELL THIS IS AWESOME

SAM AND DEAN AND CAS!! TEAM FREE WILL ARE BACK TO BACK TOGETHER IN THE DARKNESS SURROUNDED BY ZOMBIES I WISHED FOR A MOMENT LIKE THIS FOR YEARS. TEAM FREE F*CKING WILL. ALSO A FINALE THAT HAD ALL THREE OF THEM UNITED. THANK DABB.

#Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Jack Kline #Chuck Shurley #spn #supernatural #spoilers #meta #Team Free Will

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cathariis · 4 years

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1-15 hal, sage and ora

crucial muse development questions.

halcyon elizabeth charles.

what would completely break your character? make her feel worthless or that she’s meaningless. emotionally, there’s a void inside of her that could never be filled due to a lack of answers about her birth parents. all her life, she has felt worthless and has done everything she could to escape that emotion; from her achievements to her ‘i don’t care’ attitude. even her promiscuous behavior is due to this feeling. but if you make her feel that she was never important in your muse’s life or pushed her towards feeling worthless or meaningless, she’ll break (emotionally).

what was the best thing in your character’s life? without knowing it, getting adopted. whether she was left in the orphanage or stayed with her birth parents, life would never be the way she has it now.

what was the worst thing in your character’s life? the constant moving around when she was living with her adoptive parents. she never learned how to keep tight friendships with anybody and got into a ‘me, myself, and i’ type of vibe.

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? a pink and white stuffed koala in her nursery crib, watching lady and the tramp (in french) while on an airplane, and a french nursery song that she has never found the lyrics for.

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working? her hobby is her work. she animates for a living, even though she has done film projects with live actions.

what is your character reluctant to tell people? that she truly is an emotional being and actually wants to be in a relationship. but it’s an internal conflict within herself, that she wants to be in a relationship but also perhaps being alone.

how does your character feel about sex? the more one-night stands, the better. but she also likes a night of having fun by herself. heck, if her directing career didn’t take off, she would have easily become a pornstar.

how many friends does your character have? …. uh, generally, two?

how many friends does your character want? way more than she does now.

what would your character make a scene in public about? if she found out about somebody cheating on her. everything else? that shit stays private.

for what would your character give their life? finding answers to her past and understanding why her parents did what they did.

what are your character’s major flaws? impatience.

what does your character pretend or try to care about? what others think about her.

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project? that she’s more heartless and blunt than she actually is. that she isn’t super emotionally than she really is.

what is your character afraid of? physically, spiders. emotionally, failure and rejection.

sage altena.

what would completely break your character? sage is highly sensitive, so almost anything can break her. especially if you tell her that you never loved her, yikes.

what was the best thing in your character’s life? although she got a divorce, she’s thankful for her marriage because it gave her noah. although she’s currently not with him.

what was the worst thing in your character’s life? having to learn that the world isn’t meant to be viewed with rose-tinted glasses. her mom getting the family into debt and her twin getting cancer when they were kids.

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? a piglet she named barney, a care-bear blanket that was for her dolls, and the local gardener named jim who always gave her flowers.

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working? she uses her hobbies (painting, sewing, cooking) to fill up time when she’s not working.

what is your character reluctant to tell people? she’s embarrassed by her divorce and is afraid to come off as naive to others.

how does your character feel about sex? she’s only had about three partners in her life, all who were long-term boyfriends (and one husband). sage doesn’t talk a lot about sex, she’s only been really exposed to missionary and blow jobs but she wants to experiment, not only with positions, sexual behaviors, toys, etc but also with girls.

how many friends does your character have? sage has a couple but her best friend is her twin brother, jackson.

how many friends does your character want? she’s fine with what she has tbh.

what would your character make a scene in public about? nothing. she’ll hold her tongue, letting herself get all red in the face and then take the conversation home.

for what would your character give their life? if her son, noah, was in danger, she would give her life for him.

what are your character’s major flaws? her naive behavior and wanting to still see things with rose-tinted glasses rather than the truth.

what does your character pretend or try to care about? her ex-husbands’ life, when she really couldn’t care less.

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project? that she’s mature and knows better, especially after her messy divorce but she likes being somewhat ‘child-like’ still.

what is your character afraid of? physically, snakes and holes. emotionally, being stung along to another failed relationship.

orabelle richards.

what would completely break your character? any mention of her ex-boyfriend or the abuse she’s suffered through. the thought of it still breaks her since she hasn’t been able to fully talk about it with anybody.

what was the best thing in your character’s life? starting her food blog.

what was the worst thing in your character’s life? believing that the relationship she had with her ex-boyfriend was a ‘soul-mate’ connection when really she should have left it when they were together in high school.

what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? a pair of green ballet shoes that her mom never wore and kept at the top of her closet, the smell of sweat from her dad’s private studio to teach choreography to stars, a broken clock in her grandma’s apartment.

does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working? it’s tricky, considering that orabelle is a dancer, a food blogger, and soon-to-be restaurant chef. so in a way, it’s both. she dances to support her hobby of eating and cooking while using her hobby as a way to fill up time when she’s not on tour dancing or running her parents’ dance studio.

what is your character reluctant to tell people? the abusive relationship she had with her ex-boyfriend.

how does your character feel about sex? she’s open to anything, orabelle simply loves a human connection. she does feel that sex connects you deeper with your partner and it can be fun and enjoyable. ora is willing to try anything once (which oddly enough, she’s open to have public sex at least once).

how many friends does your character have? orabelle has two close friend groups who are a mix of dancers, choreographers and food bloggers/chefs. some of them, she has known since her days at the dancing academy.

how many friends does your character want? orabelle is a very friendly person, despite being highly guarded with herself, so yes.

what would your character make a scene in public about? not a thing. during her last relationship, it would be her ex that would cause a scene (for no reason) and she learned to stay quiet out of fear. to this day, she still behaves in that matter and doesn’t say anything.

for what would your character give their life? as of right now, nothing.

what are your character’s major flaws? her inability to tell the truth of what happened with her last relationship and refuses to tell anybody, especially during the court trails. orabelle feels that she put herself in that situation so she has to do everything on her own.

what does your character pretend or try to care about? her friends’ relationships, but truthfully, she’s upset about her last relationship.

how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project? what you see is what you get with orabelle. but she tries to project that she’s fine and all the scars on her body are her fault, even to this day.

what is your character afraid of? physically, her ex-boyfriend coming back to ‘finish’ her. emotionally, opening the can of worms of her closed-off emotions and allowing herself to love again.

#forsunlights #orabelle — aesthetic.#halcyon — aesthetic.#sage — aesthetic.#memes — answered.

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starspatter · 5 years

Text

WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments. (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.) I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right? Don’t worry, it’s really simple. One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh? A ‘demon’? But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear. Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within. She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then? Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others. It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time. (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~) For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes. The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars. With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for. ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building. His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table. Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair. That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi. The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another... Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself. (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this. This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates. I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be. In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters. For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it. As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes. Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright. The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat. The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao. I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry. It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze. Over 10 years, huh. But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering. It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend). *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories. (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;() What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all). I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training. I mean that in an intuitive sort of way. Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else. Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about. Perhaps not. Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this. As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards. It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly. She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes. She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze. She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know. This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL). In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher. So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again. However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence. As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*). So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference. (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now. They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below. The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought. I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real. The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this. I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage. I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic. I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia. The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend. I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right. I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun. The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved. This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted. However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag. One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead. Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It. Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch? It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her. Twice she nearly caught one. Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands. The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone.

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol. I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting). I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination. Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East. She knew about the Light that came from Outside. There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through. She had always done well to avoid them. The brightness was like poison to her skin. But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely. He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream. She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was. Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”. In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn. But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway. She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread. I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference. (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized

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matthillica · 3 years

Text

Pandemic - Day 355

This week marks 1 year since Covid was declared a Pandemic in the US.

As things began to shut down and the world changed before our eyes last March, I picked up this blog again thinking it would be interesting to document. At the time, although we hadn't told anyone yet, my wife was three months pregnant with our second child. My daughter was about to turn two. What better way, I thought, to show my kids what Covid was like than to document the pandemic's course as we muddled our way through daily uncertainty.

What I hadn't counted on was the duration and depth of the pandemic. I figured we'd be locked down in quarantine for three months, tops… maybe six if things were handled poorly.

As the novelty of Covid and prepping pantries and Covid memes began to wear off, we learned more about how Covid is actually transmitted. That meant aspects of our lives went back to normal while other abnormal aspects became second nature. Fear subsided, somewhat. I no longer stressed as much about grocery store trips. We still wear masks everywhere, but aren't afraid of Covid lurking behind every corner. For the most part, we understand that by taking a few simple steps, we can protect ourselves and our family from this disease.

Then in May came George Floyd, which took a world already turned on its head and lit a fire underneath it. A summer of protests against police brutality followed, then the politicization of masks, racial tension, and the most heated election cycle in my memory, all capped off by a coup attempt… the year we found ourselves living through became about so much more than just a pandemic.

The overwhelming was soon mired in disinformation and propaganda and the overwhelming-ness of it all became too overwhelming to even care about documenting, even for posterity.

I quit updating. Who gave a shit anyway? Certainly not me. I had bigger fish to fry than documenting the slow motion train wreck. I shared pics from my Instagram when I felt like it. I helped my Mom move from Kansas to Atlanta and then we packed up and moved to a new house ourselves. This was a welcome distraction from the horrible world, but Covid never really leaves your consciousness. It's always there, especially in weird, unexpected moments. This guy is trying to talk to me and he's getting too close but I don't want to offend him. I just filled up with gas and I'm all out of hand sanitizer, so I drive home reminding myself not to touch my face for the entire 15 minute ride. Mom wants to go to the salon, but I’m worried about exposure because my wife and her father are both high risk and I’m afraid to offend her by saying something. You're always thinking about it. How could you not? Covid is always there, always forcing you to adjust your life and habits around it.

With over 500,000 dead at this point in the US alone, the story of our little pandemic lives seemed so miniscule and, quite frankly, blessed. Sure, we'd lost income due to my unemployment, but our family managed to stay healthy (so far) and happy and together. We had it so much better than so many.

But then I have days like today where small things just rip me apart.

I got my car stuck in the mud in our backyard trying to unload a toolbox in our basement the other day and now I can't get it out of the goddamn grass. It's now sat there for three days while I waited for the ground to dry out so I could try again. I decided this morning to try and get it out by laying a cardboard path of old moving boxes. It was a massive failure that only succeeded in creating more muddy ruts, my car even more stuck now than it was this morning.

I sat in my driver's seat this morning… yelling at my stupid tires and two-wheel-drive, pounding on the steering wheel; the weight of all these little thoughts and worries crashing in around me. My daughter's entire second year was spent inside a fucking house. My son is already getting his first teeth and has only met six people. My hands have been cracked and bleeding for 12 months from constant hand washing. I haven't had a haircut in a year. I haven't seen some of my closest friends in over a year. I have a niece in Las Vegas who I was supposed to meet in March 2020 when she was four months old… now she's walking and talking. My friend lost her uncle and father to Covid in the same month. My other friend has been suffering with Covid for almost two months. My brother caught Covid in September shadowing home inspections to become a certified inspector because MGM’s shows were all closed. I haven't seen my father in a year and he’s 71 and lives by himself. The last time we were together (a year ago this week) he helped me buy a handgun for protection. Political division, social unrest, and America's tenuous grip on democracy. What kind of world did I just bring children into? Are we gonna make it?

I know there is light, but there are days when it still feels pretty damn dark.

And I guess that's where I'm at, mentally speaking. Exhausted. Sad. Grateful. So incredibly grateful. Even when the exhaustion takes over and guts me, I remind myself to be grateful. I'm grateful that the pandemic hasn't been worse for us as it has for so many others. I'm grateful that I've been able to cobble together an income off freelance work. I'm grateful that my kids are happy and healthy, not to mention too young to remember any of this shit once it's over. I’m grateful that I've learned to cook. I'm grateful that my wife and I still love each other. I'm grateful for family who have helped us navigate being working parents without daycare. I'm grateful that my parents and my wife's parents have been vaccinated. I'm grateful that now an end is in sight. When that end will be for us, I'm still not sure, but at least we know it's coming. And for that, I am grateful.

Now we brace for a return to "normalcy", whatever that means… and however long it takes. A regular topic of conversation in my house is what the first restaurant we eat inside will be. Or what vacation we'll take first. These all still feel very aspirational to me, but at least we're aspiring, I guess. In my mind, I'm ready to burst out of my unfinished basement office and folding table desk to tackle the world again. I'm ready to dive into another marketing department somewhere, go see a concert in the front row, take my kid to the aquarium so she can see the fish she only remembers from pictures. In my mind, I'm ready for all of these things and telling myself that attitude is everything.

But in my heart I know that it will probably be a long time before I can eat comfortably at a restaurant again, stand next to a stranger on a train, or sit in an airplane with other passengers without it doing a number on my head. In my heart I know that the first time I experience live music again, go to a museum, watch my child take in the majesty of a real shark, or feel the hug of a friend I've only seen over Zoom for 12+ months, I will be reduced to a puddle. And that's OK. I expect there are many, many others who feel exactly the same way and will be going through the same thing.

Still, if there's one thing the last year has taught me, it's that the abyss of the unknown is crossable and I'm ready to cross it, for better or for worse.

#Pandemic TheRona Covid-19 Lockdown

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mysticfuckery · 7 years

Note

Request of everybody reacting to MC having a very bad panic/anxiety attack.

i have no idea how long you have been waiting, but i want to apologize for the wait. i really hope you like this one- i decided to do different types of anxiety attacks and panic attacks for each hc. by everybody, I’m assuming you mean the RFA; if you want me to add the trio, please ask after requests open again. hope you enjoy

TW: DESCRIPTIVE SCENARIOS THAT CAN CAUSE ANXIETY, ANGST, ABUSE MENTION,

Yoosung

-he wanted to take you out on a public date

-it seemed like a good idea at first, too

-what could go wrong at an amusement park?

-it’s not like you were constantly trying to appear socially acceptable

-you prevented yourself from fidgeting and bouncing your leg

-Yoosung held your hand through the whole ordeal

-someone eventually noticed your fidgeting

-your distracted eyes

-your masked fear

-you were already starting to get overstimulated

-but this witness had the nerve to come up to you and ask you

-”Do you have bugs, or something?”

-you look at this person

-”Yeah, you! You’re shaking like a chihuahua. Do you have fleas?”

-then that immense fear started building

-”N-n-no, wha- what a-a-a-re you t-a-a-lking abuot??”

-you couldn’t even hold back the stuttering, or the need to talk quickly

-Yoosung shot a concerned look at you

-you started nitpicking at your cuticles

-”Damn. Calm down; did your parents not hit you enough?”

-that was it

-at that moment is when you couldn’t speak and breathe

-your stomach felt like it was imploding

-you were shaking

-Yoosung was already angry, but at this point?

-p i s s ed

-but that changed to absolute fear as he watched you

-you felt like your world was falling apart

-especially since Yoosung did nothing; it felt like you lost him too

-he had no idea what to do, so he, rather than hitting the guy

-he embraced you

-your legs felt weak and you couldn’t stand

-you were extremely embarrassed by the people staring

-so he dropped to the floor with you

-”Hey, MC…”

-”Follow my breathing”

-so you tried to, but it was hard to

-”I wanted to tell you five things today after our date, but right now is good too”

-”One: My world is much more colorful with you “

-”Two: You are my world, and I enjoy life with you”

-”Three: I love you”

-”Four: I want you to be with me forever; I never want you to leave”

-He looked into your eyes

-”Five: You make life better for me. Let me make your life better for you”

-he kissed you, tracing letters into your back

-your breathing became much more even, and you weren’t dizzy

-you were still anxious, and you were still shaking

-but you were in his arms, and he was stroking your hair

-that’s all that mattered

Zen

-you had to go to a family reunion

-Zen thought it’d be good if he went

-you agreed

-you were excited for him to meet some of your family members

-but you still didn’t want to go

-especially since you were going to arrive on his motorcycle

-you know how the elders of your family are

-so you practiced some breathing while holding onto him on your way there

-seems like the practice was pointless because you were still anxious before entering

-you were even more anxious about your grandparents gawking at your lover

-and his motorbike

-when you walked in you were pulled out of zen’s sight

-it was your grandma

-zen was crowded by your nieces, nephews, and cousins

-your anxiety worsened because you knew exactly why she pulled you over

-”Is that your boyfriend?”

-”Y-yes, grandma”

-”Motorcycles are dangerous, you know!”

-your throat tightened

-”He needs to cut that ponytail, he looks silly”

-your stomach clenched

-”Is he in a gang”

-your face reddened

-”Are those eye contacts? He looks like the devil’s son!”

-your fists clenched

-”He probably doesn’t even love you”

-and that was it, you felt ask if you were going to die

-but you couldn’t move

-and he heard it

-he returned only to find you crying and shaking

-you screamed at your grandma at a high pitch

-you defended zen, then accidentally kept fluctuating off and on topic

-you yelled about him being a great person in one sentence

-the next sentence you yelled about not being good enough for him

-and eventually your voice weakened and all you felt was worthless

-you blacked out

-all you remember is zen catching you as you fell

-you woke up at home, in bed

-”Hey babe…”

-you started crying gently

-He held you close and told you how much you mean to him

-”We deserve each other. She’s wrong”

-”You’re so beautiful and smart and you’re always there for me”

-you hugged him back

-”We don’t have to be around your family again if you like”

-you two discussed what your limits are and he promised to support you and defend you

-you stayed in bed that day, and so did he

Jaehee

-you two decided to go on a trip

-you’ve always hated airports and airplanes though

-security made you nervous

-what if you had something dangerous on you without knowing?

-what if they found said dangerous thing?

-would they shoot you?

-what if Jaehee has something dangerous on her?

-fortunately, nothing dangerous was discovered

-but the crowds of people passing by you made you shaky

-you were waiting to board

-and this one guy kept staring at you

-and you tried to ignore it

-you started shaking more

-people started to look at you one by one

-you felt dizzy and had a nausea

-then Jaehee directed your head towards her

-”MC, remember the steps”

-you couldn’t say anything

-”Step one…look for things in your environment that soothe you”

-you look at the night sky through the window

-you count stars and look for constellations as you sturdy your shakiness

-you watch the air of the AC ruffle Jaehee’s hair

-you look at the shininess of her ring

-”Step two…count your fingers and mine”

-you quickly count your fingers, building down to a more normal pace with each count

-she tapped her fingers in sync with your counting

-”Step three… breathe with me”

-she held your hand and put it on her chest

-it took five minutes for your breathing to sturdy and your nausea to fade

-but it did

-she held you close and massaged your neck

-until it was time to board

Jumin

-he told you he was taking you out to eat

-you expected a small diner

-or a cafe

-but you did not expect a full-on fancy restaurant

-you were being stared at

-you weren’t dressed appropiately

-your hair wasn’t good enough

-and Jumin was being stared at too

-he’s handsome

-rich

-smart

-and what are you?

-nothing

-you left his side and ran out

-you were hyperventilating and crying

-your head kept repeating it

-imanobodyimanobodyimanobody

-a woman pulled her child away from you

-then you fainted, feeling nothing but worthless, ashamed, and afraid

-you woke up to see paramedics around you, and Jumin holding your hand while shaking

-you suffered a concussion

-that week was a blur

-after recovery, you and Jumin made a plan

-you had a codeword for when you felt anxious

-he no longer pressured you

Saeyoung

-you were starting to think he might actually like you

-he wasn’t pushing you away as much

-you liked him and he liked you

-right?

-so one night you decide to ask him

-he was really absorbed in his work this night

-you didn’t want to annoy him

-but you wanted to ask him

-it was only a quick question, after all

-”Saeyoung?”

-he didn’t respond, and you tapped his shoulder

-”What do you want, MC?”

-you felt the ice in his voice run a chill through your body

-”I-I just wanted to k-know if you… l-l-li-”

-”Spit it out!”

-your throat became dryer

-”Do you l-like me?”

-now you were just afraid of his answer

-he turned around and said “no”

-you froze

-you stood there, rigid

-staring at the back of his hair

-tears running down your face

-thoughts ran through your head

-calling you stupid

-naive

-unlovable

-you were barely breathing

-he sighed in annoyance and turned around

-but you didn’t notice

-you shut out everything around you

-he started freaking out

-”MC?! Can you hear me?”

-no

-”Can you move???” he asked while running up towards you

-no

-the world around you shook as if your brain was having an earthquake

-your conscience came back later, and you were lying on his bed

-he was sitting on the side with his head in his hands

-”Saeyoung?”

-”I’m sorry, MC. I do like you “

-”I’m just not good enough for you, MC”

-you sat next to him, holding his sweaty hand

-”I’m so sorry”

-”I forgive you, Saeyoung”

-after a night of sleep

-you both agreed to set boundaries for each other

-you both went to therapy since then

-your relationship became healthier

mod shayne helped me with Saeyoung’s scenario. i really hope this is good!

-mod r

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the-record-columns · 5 years

Text

July 3, 2019: Columns

Marie Lenderman was 80, now she’s 90

Marie Lenderman

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

I had the pleasure of attending the 90th birthday party for a remarkable woman named Marie Lenderman on Thursday, June 27, at the Commons area next to the Wilkes Heritage Museum in Wilkesboro.

A good crowd turned out on what was a miserably hot day that seemed to turn cooler just in time for Marie's surprise party. And, a surprise it was.

For this column, however, I want to digress a few years.

I have known Marie for some time, and I was aware that, on the occasion of her 80th birthday, she delivered some remarks to the congregation of the Wilkesboro United Methodist Church on their annual Adult Recognition Day. By all accounts, it was a wonderful speech, delivered masterfully as only Marie could, and she made it a truly memorable day for all in attendance.

Well, recent circumstances (and good luck) have allowed me to actually hear Marie deliver that speech again, and, I too listened in amazement. Amazement at the delivery, yes, but more importantly at the things she shared from her heart 10 years ago.

Her speech is timeless, and, to that end, I want to share some excerpts with you today.

"Good morning, my name is Marie Lenderman, and I have to tell you that I would have never dreamed I would reach 80 years old. But, my friends, that sure beats the alternative!

"Last year on Adult Recognition Day, I barely missed being eligible to be rounded up to be an honoree at the annual 'Pity Party.' By escaping, I thought then...and hoped...that maybe nobody noticed my aging, but now, the whole church knows. But wait, you don't need to feel pity for us old folks...aging might not seem so bad...that is, if you haven't lost your hearing, had your memory take a hike, experience receding gums, or not know whether to take a pill or insert it.

"Or, as the unknown author says at the end of a poem, 'It is better to say, "I'm fine," with a grin. Than to let them know the shape we're in.'

"Another thought concerns my many years of walking by this church admiring the beautiful stained glass windows while on my way to school or my own church. I had never been inside and given the opportunity to appreciate their symbolic beauty until Tom (Lenderman) brought me during our long drawn-out courtship of two weeks (which evolved into 27 years of marriage.)

"I am thankful to still be a part of this congregation and, yes, I am still in awe of the stained glass windows. But...all this beauty does not make the church...it is the people and how they relate to God and to others. This philosophy is actually put into play early on with how we have lived our lives, and the way we judge life's ups and downs. Sure, we've all experienced pain, trials, misfortunes and sufferings, but if we hadn't been down in the valley, how could we experience the highs of being on the mountain?

"Never, never, entertain the dangerous folly of thinking as we go through life's journey ‘I have arrived and reached my destination now and my journey is finished. God has no further use for me.’

"Breathe IN the relish of the moment; Breathe OUT regrets and fears. Stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Laugh more, cry less. Pray and give thanks for your blessings. Breathe IN life's joys as we go along living, and breathe OUT our fear of death.

"May God continue to bless this church and its present day saints, just as He has its saints of the past. Thank you."

May 30, 2010

Marie Lenderman. She was 80, now she's 90; and she's still a wonderful, kind, remarkable soul. She is one of those folks I have only one complaint about—that I have not been privileged to have known her all my life.

Iran Partnering with Russia

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

(Editor’s note: This is in part a message from Magen David Adom, which is Israel's national emergency medical, disaster, ambulance and blood bank service. The name means "Red Shield of David."

The burgeoning relationship between Israel’s most powerful enemy, Iran, and world superpower, Russia, is not good news for Israel. And the news is getting worse.

An Iranian Defense Minister met with a Russian general in Moscow last month, for the purpose of renewing their “determination to bolster military and defense cooperation.”

Iranian Army Commander, Navy R. Adm. Hossein Khanzadi announced that Iran and Russia are preparing to conduct a joint maritime drill in the Persian Gulf.

Israeli media reported that Iran has begun operating a precision missile factory in Latakia, Syria, near the Russian Khmeimim Air Force Base with the support of the Syrian government and Hezbollah.

The assessment of Israeli Energy Minister and security cabinet member, Yuval Steinitz, is that "things are heating up.”

Concerned by intelligence reports that Iran was transporting short-range missiles by boat, the United States sent the USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier, a squadron of B-52 bombers, and batteries of Patriot missiles into the region following “clear indications” that Iran intended to attack.

The head of Iran’s aerospace division, Amirali Hajizadeh, said that the U.S. aircraft carrier “now it is a target . . .”

We hoped for peace but no good has come,

for a time of healing but there is only terror.

Jeremiah 8:15

Iran has a population of 87 million — nearly ten times the population of Israel — so Iran alone would be a formidable enemy.

But in recent years, it’s no secret that Iran has been cultivating military proxies — helping Hezbollah build an arsenal of 150,000 rockets in Lebanon, funding Hamas and Islamic Jihad in Gaza, supporting Syria and Yemen. And now Iran is courting Russia.

Iran and its proxies have encircled Israel, watching for an opportunity to attack. Israel is in real danger.

Your prayers and your outspoken support for Israel are greatly needed. Pay close attention to those running for public office. It’s critical that the United States of America stand in solidarity with Israel at every level of government. God says He will bless those who bless Israel and curse those who do not. God bless America. Happy Independence Day!

Brothers Found

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Have you ever wondered what would happen if one day you receive a phone call with news that you may have a brother or sister you knew nothing about?

Wilkes County barber Gary Beshears received a call toward the end of 2018 that would be life changing. His son, Josh, had been working on their family genealogy for some time. While he was enjoying the process, he wanted to go further back in time and see if he could find out more about his family origins.

Josh was curious about the possible information that an Ancestry DNA test might reveal. So, one day he ordered the test, followed the directions and patiently awaited the results. When they arrived, what he discovered was far more than he had ever imagined.

Josh was looking for his family’s roots; He was not expecting to find a close family member he knew nothing about, but that’s exactly what happened.

This Carolina story has several interesting twists and it all started before Josh was born. Some 50 years ago in Michigan, a young boy by the name of Dennis Proctor was doing a bit of exploring in his parents’ room. He had no idea that the box he would find and open on that day would set him on a lifelong journey.

The contents of the box lead Dennis to believe that the man he knew as his father was not actually his biological father. Filled with confusion and emotions, he ran to his grandmother’s house; she listened and together they shared tears as she was unable to answer the question as to who his birth father was. That was the start of a 50-year journey that would lead a man from Michigan to the third-generation barber shop at the top of Second Street Hill in North Wilkesboro.

Many things would happen between those younger years and now. Dennis would have many great adventures in life including a career as a history teacher and a passion for capturing images of wildlife. Dennis would also make family trips to the Shelby area to visit the Proctor side of his family.

Meanwhile in Wilkes County, a young boy, Gary, always wanted a brother. He was envious of others who had brothers to go hunting, fishing and just to share life with.

When Josh first called to let him know that he may have a brother, it took a little while for it to sink in. I asked how he felt about it. His very natural and likely common response was, “I’m not really sure how to feel about it. If we had known each other when we were younger, he could have come to visit and spend the summer. At least we would have had the opportunity to grow up together.”

But that’s not the way it worked out.

After several emails and calls, Dennis asked Josh if he thought Gary would do the DNA test as well. Gary agreed and when the results arrived it seemed to make the case even stronger that they are indeed family. With this news, Dennis invited the Beshears family to visit Michigan. He even offered to send the airplane tickets to fly everyone up.

There was only one problem with this offer, Gary always stays close to home and an airplane flight was not an option. With this development, talks of a Carolina trip started and the schedule was set for a June visit that would coincide with the Beshears family reunion.

The day arrived when Dennis and his wife pulled up in Gary’s driveway. Gary said when he saw Dennis get out of the pickup it was just like seeing his dad 20 years ago.

Nephew Josh was also part of the welcome committee. Gary said it was like they had known each other their whole life.

Josh got more than he bargained for when he ordered that DNA test. He now has a new uncle, Gary finally has the brother he’s always wanted, and while Dennis did not get to meet his birth father before he died, he now knows who he was, and he did find a brother and that’s a wonderful thing.

Life is full of surprises!

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sienna27 · 7 years

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Fear TWD - New Rant!

Jebus help me, I’ve been on another hate watch of Fear The Walking Dead. Season two was on as background the last few days, and I’m sad to say that it’s just as awful as it ever was. Let me bullet out my internal screaming. Be advised, this is a pure hate post, so if you enjoy the show, you do NOT want to read this :)

First up, Travis’ son, even bigger jackass than he was before. I mean it was bad enough with his teen angst emo shit while the world was still turning. Now he’s like the shittiest OC fanfiction character you can imagine, yet, “professional” writers, are scripting his words and actions. Season two starts and he is clearly supposed to be the “Carl” of their group, running off when he’s told to stay in one place, taunting walkers, killing people just because he now can kill people. But oh wait, Carl was fucking TEN! This kid’s like sixteen. Then by episode six, literally the only ‘personalized’ trauma he’s suffered is his mom dying (and it wasn’t even a big dramatic, torn apart death, she just got bit) and he’s gone full Shane?? He’s watching Madison get attacked, and then threatening Alicia when she says she’s going to tell her mom he just stood there (shades of Shane/Dale). And his reaction there pretty much negated the alternate theory that maybe he really did just freeze up for a second in the churchyard because now he’s actively threatening bodily harm to his step-sister. And when Madison brings her concerns to Travis about him threatening her daughter, he starts yelling at her about how much he’s done for Nick and she’s not ‘standing by him’ now. What?! All she did is say this just happened, and he’s coming back with how he used to go looking for her drug addict son? Literally, leaped over the Grand Canyon to get to that fight. Also, Chris figuring out that everyone’s infected and they all reanimate when the die, FOUR days out into the larger Apocalypse when it took our mothership group two seasons to get there is such a cheat. The kid didn’t earn that knowledge. Again, it was a HUGE Grand Canyon level leap for him to suddenly just know that based on the one guy reanimating on the plane. Given how the whole area was swarmed with the walkers and the guy was all busted up to hell, the LOGICAL assumption (based on knowledge to date) would have been that he’d been bit. But no, he just “knows.” Then four days later he is a complete, stone cold killer, far beyond what Shane ever became. At least with Carl becoming a child killer (the boy in the woods) there was a serious, LONG TERM, setup for how he was becoming affected by one seriously fucked situation after another. That was three years of the show, and a solid twelve months into the ZA. But no, this kid, who had showed NO previous signs of ‘mental disturbance’ is now a complete sociopath. Season 1, he’s all about trying to save Alicia when she gets attacked in the backyard, they go off and spend that day in the house trying on clothes and shit like normal teenagers, (the whole sequence was dumb, but there was nothing ‘sinister’ about it), season two starts and he’s telling Madison how she’s his mom now, and then we get to (what I’m guessing on original airing) was their back end of episodes and he’s totally fucked in the head and Travis is all, “oh I missed the signs!” Yeah, dude, we ALL missed the fucking signs! BECAUSE THEY WEREN’T THERE!!!!!!!! The writers just decided, “oh, this will be a good twist!” and they just did it. Again, like the shittiest piece of fanfiction you can imagine.

Next up, they ruined the only unequivocally solid, smart, decisive character they had from season one, the girl on the airplane who wanted to kill the infected guy before he turned. We catch up with her post plane crash in a life raft with three other people. One of them is fried to a crisp, has zero chance of survival because again, fried to a crisp, middle of the ocean, post civilization. She then proceeds to kill everybody else on the raft who is perfectly healthy to keep this one kid alive who is begging her to let him die. Then they turn her into a full blown revenge driven avenger who wants to kill Travis because STRAND, dumped her off in the middle of the ocean. “You put us in the life raft.” No, you dumb ass, you put YOURSELF in the life raft, he tied it onto the yacht to save you, and then some OTHER asshole set you adrift. Zero, zero, zero, logic to justify this plot point.

Madison. The woman playing the Mom still can’t emote worth a fucking damn. Resting Bitch Face is only supposed to be a thing when your face is resting. When you’re expressing, “Fear,” “Happiness,” “Rage,” “Concern,” etc., etc, your face should do other things. Loud talking, does not emotional expression make. And they’re trying to pretend like four days into free roaming the ZA, she’s like season five Carol, Michonne and Maggie all swirled into one. Because you know, her experience as a high school guidance counselor definitely prepared her to be taking on a fleet of fucking PIRATES!! These are not people with months of hardcore survival experience, they were in the locked down, protected by the fence and government, neighborhood for the entire breakdown of civilization. Just like with Chris not earning his Psycho Shane stripes, she has not even come close to earning that degree of badassery. And don’t even get me started on her and Strand getting trashed drunk on hard liquor and yet still taking on a full room of walkers.

Mexico. Cool idea to have a totally fresh location, and I get how somebody in the writer’s room was all tickled pink at being able to write about ‘reverse coyotes’ smuggling Americans over the border for hardcore cash, but they sort of missed a key glitch there you know, BECAUSE THE WORLD ENDED! Like two episodes earlier we find out that everything for sure, from Vancouver (Canada!) down through San Diego, (America!) is freaking bombed to shit, and what’s left of the U.S. Coast Guard responds to all requests for assistance with, “sorry, we can’t help you, nobody’s coming,” but somehow, the Mexican Border Patrol, is still a freaking thing! Like anyone still showing up to work week three of the ZA wouldn’t have been immediately overrun and torn to shreds. That was so stupid that I literally said aloud, “wait, what are you paying for?!” So yeah, this reverse smuggling would have been a fun twist five weeks earlier in their world, back when governments still, ‘existed.’ *eye roll*

Strand, I had no problem with the jaded and focused on survival thing, but the cutting that raft adrift in the ocean was a serious line to cross for his personality. Those people weren’t on the boat, they were no threat. Towing them to the shore was the right, easy, thing to do, because even if the kid had turned, they could have cut the rope then, so basically it was one hundred percent sociopathic to do what he did. But of course the next episode we find out his big mystery, which is literally, that he’s gay. Like it’s the 1950s or something and seeing him kiss this rich dude who we thought was going to turn out to be a drug dealer (the way they were setting it up anyway) was going to be all shocking or something. Then, almost INSTANTANEOUSLY, now he’s just portrayed as “normal” and “likeable” and he and Madison are buds, because now we know what his driving force was to get into Mexico . . . to find his boyfriend. Which means now is the point where we just forget that he dumped those people in the middle of the ocean to die for absolutely no reason. Again, perfect example of what is so wrong with the writing on this show. They don’t know how to portray people as “real.” They write things like a kid would write them, “oh this sounds cool,” with no forethought of whether or not it makes any SENSE.

The whole thing with the compound in Baja. I could have gone with that as being just ‘the way things were, that the mistress of the place had just decided that this was some sort of religious resurrection and all that, except, they then explain how she poisoned the Eucharist(?!) and actively murdered an entire parish full of families for no apparent reason. People are dropping dead left and right as it is, you didn’t need to be helping shit along. And if you are all into the idea that this is a great spiritual shift to a new type of human existence, then off yourself first, lady! Offing everybody else just makes you a serial killer! Then the great twist there for me was it turned out she was just the freaking housekeeper! I thought the lady collecting the guns at the gate was the head housekeeper, but no, the woman who is murdering and setting out decrees and slapping the shit out of Strand is just the damn housekeeper. I thought she was the boyfriend’s mom, (shit at least had some logic to it then), but now she’s just the help! I mean, I’m blue collar through and through myself, but fuck if I’m going to be taking post apocalyptic shit from another working class grunt. If she’s slapping me around and telling me off, I’m going to be, “bitch, get out of my face!” Then her death made no sense. She’s all about just being alive and running this compound and suddenly she just disassociates and is like, “yeah, that’s cool I’ll just feed my living human body to my dead son and all of the townsfolk . . . for NO reason!” Again, plot twist with zero prior foundation laid down in the plot.

Alicia. I will allow that she is head and shoulders improved from season one. If only this had been the character we met in season one, I might now have some attachment to her. But the way it went, I just feel like she’s somebody ‘new’ and it’s kind of too little, too late to save the show based on one character who doesn’t suck.

Nick. Now that he’s sober, they started the season by making an effort to make him the likeable, funny one. Though at the same time pushing WAY to hard to put “Glenn type” lines into his mouth about saving people and all that, but okay, it’s bad writing, it’s always been bad writing and it couldn’t be more obvious that they’re just trying to pull the character traits that work from TWD, and apply them to this group of people. Like you can SEE that’s what they’re doing, almost everybody is being molded (to the point of stealing actual lines from TWD) around somebody the writers know already works. Then with Nick though, they totally veer off course with him coming into his own in this world to take care of the family, when he promptly ABANDONS said family, ONE day after meeting the crazy ass housekeeper. All of his loyalties shift to this woman, and when he ‘suspects’ that his mom maybe has something to do with the compound burning down (she didn’t) he’s like yeah, fuck this, I’m leaving. He goes off, slices up a fresh walker and smears himself in gore. Side note, his embracing of the gore thing is weird and gross. As an emergency survival mechanism, I get it obviously, but he’s just, “yeah, this is how I live now . . . painted in the innards of a rotted corpse.” I guess that’s sort of kind pulled from the comics with the Whisperers, but they (from my limited wiki knowledge of that group) are just supposed to be full on crazy and assimilated with the dead people. He’s just weird about it. Back to my main point though, if the world ends, and you’re lucky enough that your mom and sister (who you profess to love) are still alive, you don’t just walk off and leave them. This isn’t the world where you can take off and bum around for a few weeks, come home and move back in with your family. World’s over. You go off and leave your family, odds are about 99% you will never see them again. Not just for the near impossibility of ‘running into each other’ but for the fact that your group loses a person, you make the group weaker. So to go off and just basically leave your family to die, makes you a complete shitbag. They then off and try to make him likeable again by having him join up with this other group where he plays with the kids and makes nice with the head guy and helps out on supply runs like we’re supposed to just be all, “oh, yeah, we love Nick!” No! We don’t! He abandoned his family in a foreign country, during the apocalypse. He’s a dick. As I say here, for the millionth time in my rant, the writers can’t write. They just wanted to do something new (break up the group and meet new people) so rather than doing that organically, like simply having Nick and his family get ‘separated’ in the chaos of the compound burning down (duh), they just have him make this douche move. Why?! All that does is take a character you spent all this time trying to make sympathetic (now that he’s not an active drug user) and ruin him. On mothership TWD, the only person who ‘voluntarily’ left his family . . . was Merle. He was high on meth and a known, established, douche. Him abandoning Daryl totally fit his character. Every other time a character went off alone, they were either exiled (Carol) or they were overrun and got separated (everyone else). That’s how you fling your characters off to have new adventures and meet new people, all on their own. I’ll even allow in Fear that Travis leaving his family because he had to take care of sociopath Chris was “reasonable.” He was trying to protect the others. Nick leaving was just asinine.

Which leads to my base issue with the show, the whole show is asinine. I’ve now finished two full seasons and I still don’t give a crap about any of these people. And I don’t mean, God I hate everyone, I mean, I don’t care about anyone. Somebody dies. Shrug. Somebody is in danger. Shrug. There is no impact to anything that anyone does because everything is so badly written that it doesn’t feel like I’m immersed in a world. Nothing matters. And it sucks because it is a cool concept to explore how the shorelines would be infested with water walkers, and hear about the whole west coast going dark (another angle on the apocalypse), and to see how these reanimations are seen as ‘spiritual’ in this part of Mexico because of this hardcore Catholicism, and I even liked having whole huge swaths of the scripts in Spanish with subtitles because I liked being able to brush up on my super rusty Spanish, so it’s just so much wasted money and time to take those concepts and hand them over to a shit team of writers. Because I think about how truly VESTED we were in the core family by the end of mothership TWD and there’s not even the faintest of comparison from that show to this one. Not that the mothership is perfect, they drop story lines and introduce crap out of the blue occasionally without sufficient foundation, but nothing ever so egregiously (or offensively) like I’ve seen here. And I know, if I hate it, don’t watch it. I’m not :) It was a background marathon, I finished. Though I fear that in a year I’ll be back here again bitching about season three. Til then! Ha, ha! :)

#I'm not tagging my hate #sorry if it shows up there anyway :(

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unsaltedbutterandwheatbread · 7 years

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Inner Duchess’ K-Dramas & K-Movies Watch-List.

I really get a never-ending K-dramas (and K-Movies too) watch-list! So here they are:

1. Naeil’s Cantabile - Tomorrow Cantabile

Plot: Yoo-Jin (Joo Won) is a university student majoring in piano. He has a world famous pianist father, exceptional music talent and attractive appearance, but his one weakness is that he can't ride in an airplane or boat due to a childhood trauma. Because of his phobia, Yoo-Jin is unable to travel to Europe to learn conducting even though he badly wants to become a conductor.

One day, Yoo-Jin gets drunk and falls asleep on the doorstep of Nae-Il (Shim Eun-Kyung). She lives next door to Yoo-Jin. The next morning, he wakes up and finds himself in a room full of trash and he sees Nae-Il. Nae-Il falls in love with him and follows him around. Nae-Il is also a piano major and takes lessons from Professor Ahn Gun-Sung (Namgung Yeon). Yoo-Jin is soon assigned to take lessons from Professor Ahn Gun-Sung as well. His arrogance has led him to take lessons from Professor Ahn Gun-Sung rather than Professor Do Gang-Jae (Lee Byung-Joon) who is renown for instructing many famous pianists. Professor Ahn Gun-Sung then assigns Yoo-Jin to perform a piano duet with Nae-Il. At first, Yoo-Jin insists that Nae-Il follows his instructions, but he soon changes and accepts her way to play the piano.

Yoo-Jin then hears that world-famous conductor Franz Stresemann (Baek Yoon-Sik) will be coming to his university. Yoo-Jin is ecstatic, because he can learn from Franz Stresemann without going to Europe. Yoo-Jin is unaware though that Franz Stresemann dislikes his father and his famous childhood musical instructor Vieira.

Naeil’s Cantabile is a Korean Version of Japanese’s Nodame Cantabile and I am a big fan of Nodame Cantabile! Once I heard about this remake I didn’t want to watch because.. yeah you know sometimes remake isn’t as good as the original one and I was thinking about Joo-won didn’t fit the role as Shinichi Chiaki, but I thought about why I didn’t watch it first then comment it? And finally I decided to watch it and put it to my watch list :D

2. Solomon’s Perjury

Plot: A male student's body is found at school. Authorities assume that the student killed himself in a fall. Other students at the school hold a trial to uncover the truth behind his death.

I already sneaked into its episode 1 and 2 and I think this show is one of underrated show (and the fact most viewers prefer the original one). I don’t know why but I found this show so interesting! Unfortunately, I don’t have a chance to watch the original version (and I will). I am a fan of this genre and the fact said this show’s genre you’ll find mostly in Japanese drama and movie, so without any hesitation I put this show in my watch-list!

Anyway, Kim Hyun-soo is sooooo beautiful! :)

3. Hot Young Bloods

Plot: "Hot Young Bloods" is set within the early 1980's in Heongseong, South Korea. The movie depicts the rivalries, friendships and secret crushes held by students at a high school in Heongseong.

Young-Sook (Park Bo-Young) is the feared leader of a female gang at the high school. Although she is known for her toughness, she has a secret crush on Joong-Gil (Lee Jong-Suk). Meanwhile, Joong-Gil is the school's playboy. He attempts to woo all the girls at his high school except for Young-Sook. That's because Gwang-Sik (Kim Young-Kwang), the feared leader of a rival school's male gang, views Young-Sook as his woman.

A new female transfer student (Lee Se-Young) from Seoul arrives at their high school. She's different from the other girls and beautiful. Joong-Gil falls for her instantly, while Young-Sook attempts to prevent the new girl from encroaching on her secret crush. Trouble also brews for Joong-Gil as Gwang-Sik becomes aware of Young-Sook stepping in between Joong-Gil and the new transfer student.

Trust me, I’m here for Park Bo-young. Lee Jong-suk is a bonus for me XD

I found this movie from Running Man, when Park Bo-young, Lee Jong-suk, and Lee Se-young became guests there. I know I will be a big fan of Park Bo-young and I decided to watch this movie while waiting for her comeback on TV series, Strong Woman Do Bong-soon :)

4. A Werewolf Boy

Plot: A mother moves with her older daughter (Park Bo-Young) and younger daughter (Kim Hyang-Gi) to a large home in the country side. The older daughter suffers from a lung ailment and her doctor advised the family to move out into the country side. The home is provided by Ji-Tae (Yoo Yeon-Seok), the son of a business partner who worked with their deceased father.

While the family gets acclimated to their new surroundings, the older daughter makes a remarkable discovery. Within a locked room in the barn lives a wild boy (Song Joong-Ki). The family takes him in believing he is just an orphan with little social skills. The boy with little social skills begins to take an interest in the oldest daughter. Meanwhile, Ji-Tae has his own plans in marrying the oldest daughter. What's the secret behind the wild boy?

Again, please trust me I’m here for Park Bo-young! Song Joong-ki and Yoo Yeon-seok are another bonus for me! XD

I know I waaaaaay too late to watch this but I really fond of Park Bo-young nowadays!

So those are my current watch list (while watching Goblin and Legend of The Blue Sea, oh my I’m so busy!) and I really hope to watch it all SOON! :D

#naeil's cantabile #tomorrow cantabile #joo won #shim eun kyung #solomon's perjury #kim hyun soo #hot young bloods #park bo young #lee jong suk #lee se young #a werewolf boy #yoo yeon seok #song joong ki #inner duchess thought #kdramas talk

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joannrochaus · 5 years

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The man who was not allowed to board Flight 302: “Say thank you to God”

“When I arrived, boarding was closed and I watched the last passengers in (the) tunnel go in. I screamed to put me in but they didn’t allow it.”

This is how a Greek passenger named Antonis Mavropoulos described his attempt to board Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 last Sunday morning.

He was not allowed to board the next flight to Nairobi after the airline lost contact with the flight he was supposed to take. He says that a security staff member “told me gently not to protest and say thank you to God, because I am the only passenger who did not enter the flight.”

Antonis Mavropoulos has abundant reason to “say thank you to God” today. What about those who lost someone on the airplane he tried to board?

The 157 victims of Flight 302 were a small percentage of the 153,424 people who die every day around the world. But the sudden shock of their deaths made their loss especially tragic.

Is the Christian faith truly relevant at a time like this?

Is God a clockmaker?

One of the finest pastors in America, a dear friend of mine, lost his oldest son recently. As the father of two and grandfather of four, I cannot begin to imagine his pain. Or that of the families grieving over the Ethiopian airline tragedy.

At times like this, grief can turn us from God in bitterness and disappointment. If he’s our loving Father, why does he allow his children to suffer so terribly?

Or grief can turn us toward God in faith and hope. Since he’s our loving Father, won’t he help us through these days of despair and pain?

Nothing about the Ethiopian jet crash changed the character of God. If he loved us before, he loves us still. If he was King of the universe on Saturday, he is King on Tuesday.

What we fear is that the tragedy reveals something about God we don’t want to believe. Perhaps he is not as loving or as powerful as we thought he was. Perhaps he is not as relevant to our lives and suffering as we believed him to be.

Maybe he is a clockmaker watching his invention run down on its own. Or maybe he’s not there at all.

When a hammer cannot drill a hole

The key is to understand what the Christian faith promises and what it does not.

It is unfair to blame a hammer when it cannot drill a hole or a drill when it cannot drive a nail. Jesus never promised us that his followers would be immune from death and grief. Just the opposite: “In the world you will have tribulation,” he warned us (John 16:33).

What Jesus did promise is that he will be with us “to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). He said of his followers: “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:28).

He promised that he would reward his persecuted followers: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven” (Matthew 5:12). He promised the thief on the cross what he promises us in the moment of our death: “You will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43; Philippians 1:21).

“The last of human freedoms”

In the meantime, his Spirit is using our challenges to mold us into the character of Christ (Romans 8:29).

In Man’s Search for Meaning, holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl wrote that he and his fellow prisoners experienced “the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” He discovered that in responding to their suffering, “the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone.”

It is precisely here—when we must choose the “sort of person” we become—that Jesus’ presence and power are especially relevant to us.

But there’s a catch.

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

When women came to Jesus’ tomb to finish his burial, “they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus” (Luke 24:2–3). “While they were perplexed about this,” two angels appeared to them (v. 4). They asked the women, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” (v. 5).

Twenty centuries after Easter, Christians can still do the same. We “seek the living among the dead” when we treat Jesus as anyone or anything other than our living Lord. When he is an idea, a theology, a model, a movement, he is as “dead” as if he were Muhammad or Buddha. When we experience him as a living person, only then do we not seek him among the dead.

It is hard in our materialistic culture to trust that which must be known through faith rather than through experience. We understand cemeteries more than resurrections. We are comfortable with theology (“a word about God”), less with Theo (“God” himself).

“I feel the bottom and it is good”

What grief are you carrying for yourself or for someone you know?

Bring it to the risen and living Christ. Ask him to use it to make you more like him—more dependent on your Father (John 5:30), more obedient to his will (Matthew 26:39), and more compassionate for those who suffer (John 11:35). Then ask his Spirit to make you the presence of Jesus for someone who is hurting (1 Corinthians 12:26–27).

And know that whatever you face, the worst is only the gateway to the best.

Yandall Woodfin was one of my professors and mentors in seminary. His marvelous textbook, With All Your Mind: A Christian Philosophy, ends with these words:

“It can be for any of us who trusts in Christ as it was for Christian and Hopeful in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. As they approach the river of death, which has no way around nor bridge across, they ask about the depth of the water and are told, ‘You shall find it deeper or shallower, as you believe in the King of the place.’

“Upon entering the water Christian begins to sink and cries to his companion that the billows and waves are going over his head. To this Hopeful responds, ‘Be of good cheer, my Brother, I feel the bottom and it is good.’ Christian soon finds solid ground to stand on and ‘the rest of the River was but shallow.‘”

What river are you crossing today?

The post The man who was not allowed to board Flight 302: “Say thank you to God” appeared first on Denison Forum.

source https://www.denisonforum.org/columns/daily-article/the-man-who-was-not-allowed-to-board-flight-302-say-thank-you-to-god/ source https://denisonforum.tumblr.com/post/183400972022

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denisonforum · 5 years

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The man who was not allowed to board Flight 302: “Say thank you to God”

“When I arrived, boarding was closed and I watched the last passengers in (the) tunnel go in. I screamed to put me in but they didn’t allow it.”

This is how a Greek passenger named Antonis Mavropoulos described his attempt to board Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 last Sunday morning.

Antonis Mavropoulos has abundant reason to “say thank you to God” today. What about those who lost someone on the airplane he tried to board?

The 157 victims of Flight 302 were a small percentage of the 153,424 people who die every day around the world. But the sudden shock of their deaths made their loss especially tragic.

Is the Christian faith truly relevant at a time like this?

Is God a clockmaker?

At times like this, grief can turn us from God in bitterness and disappointment. If he’s our loving Father, why does he allow his children to suffer so terribly?

Or grief can turn us toward God in faith and hope. Since he’s our loving Father, won’t he help us through these days of despair and pain?

Nothing about the Ethiopian jet crash changed the character of God. If he loved us before, he loves us still. If he was King of the universe on Saturday, he is King on Tuesday.

Maybe he is a clockmaker watching his invention run down on its own. Or maybe he’s not there at all.

When a hammer cannot drill a hole

The key is to understand what the Christian faith promises and what it does not.

“The last of human freedoms”

In the meantime, his Spirit is using our challenges to mold us into the character of Christ (Romans 8:29).

It is precisely here—when we must choose the “sort of person” we become—that Jesus’ presence and power are especially relevant to us.

But there’s a catch.

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

“I feel the bottom and it is good”

What grief are you carrying for yourself or for someone you know?

And know that whatever you face, the worst is only the gateway to the best.

Yandall Woodfin was one of my professors and mentors in seminary. His marvelous textbook, With All Your Mind: A Christian Philosophy, ends with these words:

What river are you crossing today?

The post The man who was not allowed to board Flight 302: “Say thank you to God” appeared first on Denison Forum.

source https://www.denisonforum.org/columns/daily-article/the-man-who-was-not-allowed-to-board-flight-302-say-thank-you-to-god/

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samanthasroberts · 5 years

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To These Minneapolis Immigrants, the Super Bowl Is AmericaNot President Trump

Haji Yusuf can’t really remember the incredible play that saved the Minnesota Vikings’ season. For those that might have missed it, with 10 seconds left in the NFC Divisional Playoffs, the Minnesota Vikings had the ball on their own 39 yard line and were trailing the New Orleans Saints by a score of 24-23, but Yusuf couldn’t bear yet another crushing defeat.

A Somali-American who currently lives in St. Cloud and whose first job was as a security guard at the previous Vikings stadium, Yusuf has been a Vikings fan practically since he arrived in Minnesota in 1999. But with the clock ticking down, unable to shake the memories of recent gut-wrenching playoff losses, he abandoned his perch on the couch.

Pacing back and forth in his kitchen, he kept one eye on the television hoping against hope that somehow, some way, they might be able to pull off a miracle.

Of course, an honest-to-goodness miracle was mere moments away. On third down, quarterback Case Keenum connected on a desperation 25-yard heave to wide receiver Stefon Diggs. Just as it appeared Diggs would skip out of bounds and maybe set up a potential game-winning long field goal, Saints cornerback Marcus Williams mysteriously whiffed, lunging just to the left of Diggs and landing on his face. The field opened up before him and Diggs was able to tiptoe past the lone and suddenly prone defender and scoot the final 35 yards for a 61-yard touchdown. Truly, it was a Minnesota Miracle.

For Yusuf, it’s all a bit of a blur. As the play was unfolding, he can remember seeing the ball leave Keenum’s fingertips and Diggs plucking it out of the air. The rest has vanished. “Honestly, I blacked out,” he said.

The world snapped back into focus once Diggs was standing in the back of the end zone, his arms triumphantly outstretched and the home crowd raining down near-apoplectic cheers. From his home, Yusuf joined in on the frenzy. Luckily, he maintained his wits enough to record his reaction:

Yusuf is part of a growing number of Somali-Americans in Minnesota who have, as he puts it, “completely [fallen] in love with American football.” To be sure, the Vikings’ stellar season and subsequent march to the NFC Championship Game played a part in attracting newfound fans, like Halima Aden, a 19-year-old Somali-American and Muslim fashion model who posted a photo of herself wearing a Vikings-emblazoned hijab:

But for the Somali-American Vikings fans who spoke with The Daily Beast, getting hooked on football has been more than joining in with the madding local crowd—it’s a way to access something ineffable and yet central to American culture at a time of heightened nativist fears and Islamophobia. At times, the games have proved a necessary diversion, in the best sense of the word.

“The potential for us Minnesotans, the potential for this country just to go beyond colors, go beyond religion, go beyond culture,” is how Yusuf described watching his team win, a moment he plans to cherish and share with his 4-year-old son and 2-year-old daughter.

“As an American citizen, for me to see, you know, a play like that,” he said, his voice drifting off for a moment. “It spoke to something essential about the beauty of this country and its history, and what people who have come to this country have been able to contribute and make it successful.”

As of 2015, there were approximately 150,000 Somalis living in the United States, a dramatic increase since the 2010 census, which pegged the total at 85,700. Minnesota and specifically the Twin Cities, boasts the largest concentration, up to 70,000 by some estimates.

Somalis began arriving following the outbreak of the civil war in 1991, and many were relocated to Minnesota. The ongoing civil unrest, droughts, and famine meant a steady stream of immigration over the last 20 years, and an influx of refugees. According to the U.S. Office of Refugee Resettlement, which has been acting with greater impunity under the Trump administration, close to 9,000 refugees from Somalia arrived in 2015 alone.

Despite what the Somali-American community has brought to Minnesota, they were targeted by then-candidate Trump.

During a November 2016 rally in Minneapolis, he stoked racial and ethnic tensions, stumping for what he called “extreme vetting.” Without evidence, he claimed that in Minnesota, Somali-Americans were joining ISIS “large numbers,” and sweeping changes were needed because Minnesotans have “suffered enough,” an assertion that community leaders and politicians have strongly rejected.

In August of that same year, he announced that the Somali community in Minnesota was, “a rich pool of potential recruiting targets for Islamist terror groups.” After an investigation that began in 2014, nine Somalis were arrested and charged with providing material support to ISIS, though law enforcement was able to make arrests thanks to the efforts of the Somali-American community. Somalia has been included as one of the majority-Muslim countries listed on all of Trump’s proposed—and subsequently blocked—travel bans.

While in the process of being deported in December, 92 Somali refugees on an airplane leaving the country were brutalized by immigration agents, who “kicked, struck, choked and dragged” them, a recent lawsuit alleged, keeping them in shackles for two days. A total of 521 Somalis were deported in 2017, according to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

Further, the Southern Poverty Law Center reported that the total number of anti-Muslim hate groups in the U.S. has tripled since since 2015, from a mere 34 to 101 in 2016. Per the FBI, the number of assaults and acts of intimidation suffered by Muslims also spiked in 2016.

One of those victims was Asma Jama, an Somali-American, activist, and Vikings fan who came to the U.S. in 2006. Back in October 2015, she was at an Applebee’s in Coon Rapids, Minnesota, eating dinner with her family. In a nearby booth, Jodie Burchard-Risch, a 43-year old white woman, noticed that she was wearing a hijab and speaking Swahili. Burchard-Risch grew enraged, telling Jama to “go home” and screaming, “When you’re in America you should speak English.”

When Jama calmly responded that she was more than capable of speaking English, but this is her home and she’ll use whichever language she desires, Burchard-Risch slammed her in the face with a beer mug. The resulting injuries, including a badly split lip, required 17 stitches.

Burchard-Risch was found guilty and received a six-month sentence. At the conclusion of the trial, Jama forgave her attacker.

“I just want you, at the end of all this, to understand that we are all the same,” she said. “I am an American citizen, and I fight for this country… just as much as you would.”

Since then, Jama has received support from friends and family, but also Burchard-Rich’s sister, who reached out to help Jama get over the lingering trauma of the incident. She told The Daily Beast that while her faith demanded an act of forgiveness, she wanted to provide a public example for all Americans.

“If we all stood up, just regular people like me, and we all show each other that regardless of what is being said at the level of how our president is talking, we’re so much better than that,” said Jama. “And I know we are, because after what happened to me I saw the love that I received.”

Football helps Jama to decompress, or “forget about your life and how serious it is,” as she said, over the past year that saw a spike in ICE raids and a 40 percent increase in immigration arrests in Minnesota. Still, like Yusuf, she couldn’t bear to watch the final play, leaving the room and covering her eyes. “I don’t want to see it. We’re done. We’re done!” she said at the time.

These days, Jama can’t get enough of watching the highlight online.

She’s been a sports fan ever since she was young. Jama started out rooting for the NBA’s Minnesota Timberwolves, but, over time, her affection gravitated to the Vikings. Now, she’ll host and attend meetups with groups of friends to watch the game, and keeps those that can’t make it in the loop via group chats. But when asked if football had helped her to understand America, or at least one particular facet of America, she rejected the premise of the question.

“Football, tailgating, all these things we do because we are Americans,” said Jama. “It’s not like we’re pretending to fit in or we’re trying to assimilate.

“I enjoy screaming,” she continued, whether it’s howling at the loss to the Philadelphia Eagles or rejoicing in Diggs’ catch. “I’m just like anybody else.”

Similarly, Muhktar Ibrahim, a Somali-American reporter for Minnesota Public Radio, caught both Vikings playoff games with some friends. He said that he was far from alone in this regard, as he’s seen an uptick in the number of Somali-American restaurants that have recently been transformed into purple-clad Vikings enclaves.

At the gatherings he attended, the conversation shifted back and forth between Somali and English, and the subject matter wasn’t much different, pinging back and forth from the game itself to pressing political concerns and idle gossip. In this setting, “[Somali-Americans] can be fully Minnesotan,” he said, while remaining true to their Somali identity.

“They can be fully American, but also they can be who they are. You can’t take that away from anybody,” he said.

“There are people who really enjoy the game, but stay true to their Somali identity and culture, and also try to be more authentic about it without losing specificity.”

That was very much the experience for the Irish, Italian, Jewish, and German immigrants who emigrated en masse at the turn of the 20th century. Instead of the NFL, they embraced baseball as both a means to understand their newfound home and to revel in the successes of Joe DiMaggio, Hank Greenberg, Honus Wagner, and many more.

“That’s the beauty of being an American,” said Ibrahim. “You can be whoever you want to be, and that’s an amazing thing.”

Thrilling season or not, Jama does have one major complaint about her team—beyond hoping they hold on to soon-to-be free agents Keenum and their injured former starter, Teddy Bridgewater, that is. She wishes that the Vikings would speak out about the rising incidents of hate crime and white supremacist hate groups that have sprung up in Minnesota. For all the activist efforts by NFL players this past season, it’s a subject that the Vikings, let alone the league itself, have rarely broached.

“It’s time Minnesota had a conversation, and I think that’s what’s missing,” she said.

“If I could only talk to them, this is what I’d say: ‘To them, I’m a nobody. I’m just an immigrant girl who lives in Minnesota that is an American now, but the thing is, sometimes I feel if we talk to each other, they will understand.’”

Source: http://allofbeer.com/to-these-minneapolis-immigrants-the-super-bowl-is-americanot-president-trump/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/01/16/to-these-minneapolis-immigrants-the-super-bowl-is-americanot-president-trump/

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adambstingus · 5 years