#i hate the idea of dividing sunny into 'new sunny' and 'old sunny'

[charmac]

Unspoken tension ahead of Charlie Work, a wound left open in Family Fight

The Production Order (the order in which the episodes are written) always seems of some value to me in Sunny, but 10 I find especially substantial. With half of the scripts of the season written by RCG, 4 are back-to-back (with their 5th one, Psycho Pete, being 2nd in order).

The run begins after The Gang Spies like U.S. Going off that into Charlie Work, as opposed to into that off Charlie Work, paints a very different narrative for the timeline.

We leave the reveal that Mac and Dennis are jerking off together into an episode that starts with high tension between Mac and Dennis. Dennis is frustrated that Mac isn't being direct, won't look him in the eyes, he's avoidant, timid. That's interesting, because Mac isn't usually any of those things, he's direct and abrupt and loud. Off 9, fully establishing Mac is gay, juxtaposing his closeted behaviour to Country Mac's openness, 10 focuses hard on the fact that Mac's confidence is continually battered as he refuses to step out of the closet. The Gang is tired of it, but Dennis is frustrated. His words maybe cut even deeper than the scratch, "Come to me like a man. Talk about being tough all the time, can't even look me in the eyes."

We leave CW and go into Family Fight, written right after, also by RCG. This episode has big focus on Dennis' obsession with public perception of himself, and the Gang. Though he can initially handle masking his demeanor, his tone of voice, what he can't mask are his words. He's smiling, he's 'joking', but there's deep truth in what he’s saying. He's frustrated, though his frustration in the moment is intended for Frank, Mac feels it directed at him. There's a fresh wound between them, because Mac fully understands what his feelings for Dennis are now, and that’s irreparably shifted their dynamic.

Misses the Boat is the last RCG-written episode of the season. From Charlie Work, where we’re kinda first faced with the fact that Mac is now overly-concerned with how Dennis perceives him, to Family Fight, where Dennis' masks slip completely and he has a public breakdown, they both veer hard to straighten themselves. Mac, very quite literally, goes straight, and Dennis resolves that he needs to cut ties to get back to being ‘cool’, he’s going to be a cool guy who has a cool car and hangs out with a babe and is cool.

But what we learn in Misses the Boat is that how they think the world views them, or should view them based on how they believe they present, isn’t who they are. They can’t actually function well in these situations. Dennis, untethered, somehow can’t control his rage as well as he can when he *is tethered* to the Gang. Mac, well, he isn’t straight, and he realises pretending to be into women is miserable.

Dennis gives him the offer: Do you want to go back? (To not addressing it, to a standstill.) And Mac quickly, excitedly takes it. Looping back to where they are in Charlie Work, back to where they settle for too long: Mac, absorbed in himself, clawing for approval from Dennis, and Dennis lashing out, tired of telling Mac what to do.

And I think this is why I love 10 more than anything, it finally addresses the issue the audience knows. With Charlie, Dee, and Frank, too. They’re going nowhere, spiraling in circles because they refuse to address the roots of their issues, and Misses the Boat makes them, themselves, fully aware of that fact. They’re miserable together, but they’re worse off alone. And they go into 11 and beyond knowing this, and all kind of resenting each other for it, until 14. Where they acknowledge it again, and decide they’re going to keep playing the game even though it’s set.

#META UNDER THE CUT!! #this is not just mac angst people #but it can be if you dont care about meta ig #iasip #macdennis #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #sunny 10 #charlie work #the gang goes on family fight #the meta went way deeper than i was expecting but im happy with it #3am spiralling or something or other #waited until today to reread it cos yk #and i stand by it #sunny meta #i hate the idea of dividing sunny into 'new sunny' and 'old sunny' #i think theres a lot more to it based on all the dynamic shifts that happen #theres very clear stages that are more divided like #1-4. 5-7. 8-10. 11-14. 14-present #and you could probably label them in a fun way too

[themerriweathermage]

What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes A Fighter)

Summary: Bren can’t so easily take Quinn and his people under his wings, knowing that if he brings them into the heart of his Estate, he will lose everyone’s trust. So he makes a plan with Lydia to build a Summit out in the mountains... Only to find himself put on an impromptu vacation.

Pairing(s): Sunny X Nix, It's Complicated (Quinn X Bren)

POV: 1st Person (Bren)

Warnings: Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, Canon Typical Violence (Death/Blood Mention), Mention of Chronic Pain/Illness

Co-Creator: @i-drink-and-i-write-fics​

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

“No.” Nix hadn’t even looked up from scooping out the bright pink cinnamon rolls from the pan. One of the many recipes she remembered from our old world. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I haven’t even asked anything.”

“You came into the room, looked at me and Sunny, and hesitated. That only means one thing and my answer is no.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Only in regards to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“Somehow, I think Voldemort is worse,” I replied dryly.

“Debatable,” was Nix’s response. She then looked up at me. “If you let him in here, Meraxes will use him as a new chew toy.”

“Not if you tell her not to.”

“This isn’t about whether or not I can issue that command - which, spoiler alert, I won’t. This is about how she wouldn’t listen to me anyway. I am Meraxes’s top protection priority. It’s just the way she was built. But she also knows what you and Sunny mean to me, so you both are a close second with Lydia right behind. She knows from me talking, what he did to Lydia and Sunny. She saw what Quinn did to you. She could feel what I wanted to do to him. And I didn’t - not solely because of you, though I know you would have been mad at me for quite some time - but because I didn’t want the image burned in my head. But if I’m not around…”

I was quiet at her words, forgetting, in the heat of wanting to help Quinn’s people, that the issue with Meraxes was more complicated than most realized.  “His people need our help.”

Nix sighed. “I don’t doubt that. But you cannot let him into the heart of our barony. Not just because I trust him as far as I can throw my mother’s grand piano. But because we will lose our people’s trust. They know what he did. They know how Lydia was treated, my almost imprisonment, Sunny having poison blades used on him, and what almost happened to you. If we let him into the estate, we will lose everyone.”

I grew quiet at her words. She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. “But-”

She sighed again and pulled me over to the table to sit with her and Sunny, who had been quietly observing this whole time. “I can offer you two solutions: take him to the Port Town to have this meeting and take Sunny and Lydia. Meraxes will be close by in case anything happens.”

“Or?”

“Or, you find or build a cabin at the borders of our baronies and have the meeting there. Again, with Sunny, Lydia, and Meraxes.”

“You’re not going to lecture me about Quinn?”

“It’s just going to go in one ear and out the other, unfortunately. And thanks to Lydia, I have to prepare for a party announcing my engagement to Sunny as well as a wedding. My neurodivergent head is already at capacity.”

I nodded my head. “Thank you.”

    “You’re up late.” Lydia murmured, seeing me sitting at the desk in the office, in contemplative thought, considering each of Nix’s ideas. Neither one of them particularly suited me. Using the port town meant that I couldn’t showcase our barony, and yet pulling something together in our barony in such a short time seemed almost impossible. Even with my gift...

    “Thinking.” I replied softly. There were hideouts we could use, places lesser inhabited by citizens, places used by our nomads who didn’t have an opinion on us one way or another. 

    “About helping Quinn?” She asked. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

    “Why does everyone assume that this is about Quinn?” She gave me a telling look. “His people...”

    “Need our help.” She finished. “So you want to guide him into the right path.”

    “It isn’t about him.” I protested again, weaker this time. She only raised an eyebrow in my direction. “I have to try.” I admitted lowly. “I have to try, even if he throws my advice to the wind like he’s done so many times before. I have to lead by example.”

    “And how goes your planning?”

    “Shit.” I muttered. “It’s going like shit. If I use the port town, I can’t showcase our barony. If I use the barony lines, it’s going to take me too long to build anything. I was thinking about heading to one of the lesser used hideouts.”

    “Why not use Gideon’s headquarters?” Lydia asked. “The rail runs right through it. Can’t it take us there on the way through to Rojas’ territory on its supply run?”

    “The mountain valley?” It was secluded enough that only nomads attempted the run to the depot between the two mountain tunnels. Lesser inhabited, but still lush, and whatever was built for the summit could remain in place to provide better shelter instead of just using the old airplane hangar. “It would delay the trade route by a few days.”

    “I’m sure Rojas wouldn’t mind too much.”

    “He might, if he knows the 611 carries Quinn.” Lydia stifled a giggle. 

    “But it will also give you the chance to showcase to Quinn why your alliances hold strong. If he pays attention.”

    “Big if.” I muttered under my breath. That time she laughed.

    “You should get some sleep. I doubt having a tired mind will do you any good.” I wrinkled my nose, even though I knew she was right. But all I ever wanted to do was sleep, sleep and remember the good times gone past, sleep and try to forget what kind of toll the Badlands was taking on me.

    It showed through more now than I ever wanted it to, so I tried to keep that part locked down and hidden away. I used my gift more than ever, mostly to mitigate the chronic pain but there were days when I just didn’t have the strength to keep up with that demand. And there were days when I wished that we’d been thrown anywhere else through that portal, anywhere but the Badlands.

    More grey than ever was starting to color my hair. I knew part of it was just going to do that as I got older but stress more than anything caused it to happen more rapidly. The scars that I had gotten here contributed to a host of aches and pains that I hadn’t known could run so deeply. And the fact that I’d come through the portal, well, me, but with almost everything that had made me me certainly didn’t help the situation.

    “I know what you’re doing.” Lydia’s voice cut through my thoughts. 

    “It is not fair that you can see right through me.” I murmured.

    “You don’t have to hide yourself away.”

    “If I don’t, I can’t be the baron my people need. I can’t be anyone with that kind of pain. I’ve lived through it enough; it’s debilitating.” I replied, leaning on my hand. “The gift mitigates that, some of it anyway.”

    “Enough to get by?” Lydia asked.

    “Ha!” I barked out a dry laugh. It would have been easier if Quinn had actually put his money where his mouth was and just fucking ended it, but we couldn’t do things the easy way, could we? I frowned at the intrusive thought; that brought back far too many memories and none of them good. “I need a drink. A strong one.”

    “Whiskey?”

    “Vodka.” I muttered. “Straight.” It couldn’t have been a minute later before there was a shot sitting on my paperwork and I downed it, grimacing at the taste. But it did what I needed it to do, distracted me from my current thoughts and grounded me to the present.

    “I’ll never understand why you drink it if you don’t like it.”

    “Because it keeps me here, keeps me grounded, keeps me from thinking about things that shouldn’t be thought about.” I replied. “And you’re right; I should probably get some rest.” I stood, aiming to head out when her touch on my shoulder stopped me.

    “Don’t...” She paused for a moment, “Don’t do anything drastic, Bren.”

    “I won’t.” I promised quietly. At this point, it was probably just better that I got some sleep, retreating into my quarters.

    Morning came too early, as it always did. I made myself scarce from the Estate, holing up in Club Euphorbia where the lights were dim, setting some music to play. In the wake of Dominique’s exit, the club had gone dark, with no one to mitigate between my responsibilities and the costs of running it. I sprawled out my supplies in my lounge, setting to work, seemingly undisturbed for most of the day.

    “So this is the great Club Euphorbia.” There was a knock on the door and I looked up, seeing Lydia in the doorway. “Quieter than I expected.”

    “Dom managed it on the side. With him gone...” I let the sentence trail. “I suppose I ruffled some feathers by leaving early this morning?” I turned my attention back to my paperwork.

    “You’re the baron. You can go where you like.” She replied. “Sebastian told me you were here.” I furrowed my brow. I had never quite gotten used to having a Clipper insist on being at my side quite like ours did, but that name was familiar, and not one of our own. “Quinn usually had him assigned as my personal guard. He wasn’t at liberty to be transferred with me when Quinn gave me away, but he left after the fiasco at the poppy fields. He comes and goes with the nomads.” Lydia approached, almost cautiously. But I’d be cautious too; I’d let my guard down here, gotten comfortable.

    She made her way over to my lounge, peering over the edge and into my paperwork and distracted drawings. “Any more luck on your planning?”

    “I thought about what you said about using Gideon’s headquarters and decided to see what I could do about creating a town in the mountain valley. The nomads already have a trading post in the old airplane hangar. They could... settle there if they wanted.”

    “Projected cost?”

    “Labor and supplies shouldn’t be difficult to come by. We’ll see about enlisting the nomads there already. If everybody pitches in, the project shouldn’t take too long.”

    “Lodging, permanent vendors, what else are you talking?”

    “Probably an infirmary and let’s see about getting an actual depot set up for the rail.”

    “I can do that.” Lydia murmured, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “I just... I don’t want you doing this alone, Bren.” I met eyes with her for a moment before glancing away. I wasn’t drunk enough-- or sober enough for that matter-- for this conversation.

    “Because of Quinn?” I’ll admit that my tone was... not so nice.

    “Because you work too much. Sure, you’ve thrown yourself back into the barony, into keeping your promises and your oaths, but Bren, what part of throwing yourself back into the barony has been about taking care of yourself? You won’t give me a moment edgewise to slide something into your schedule to let you relax.”

    “The needs of many outweigh the needs of one.” I replied. “My needs can wait.”

    “Until what? Until you work yourself into a grave?” I shrugged.

    “Why not? Quinn already took the measurements for it.” Lydia blinked, slowly giving me a measured, almost prising look. 

    “Do you... wish that he had?”

    “It’s just an expression.” I mumbled quietly, crossing my arm over my chest, uncomfortable with where the topic was heading, already treading into dangerous territory, much like last night had been.

    “Bren--”

    “It’s complicated.” 

    “Okay.” She started softly. “We don’t have to talk about it. Did you want me to get started on your plans for the summit?”

    “It can wait until tomorrow.” I knew my answer was clipped, knew that my thoughts were going somewhere they shouldn’t be. I heaved a sigh, scowling. Why here, and why now of all times? Why when there was work to be done? 

    “Do you want me to stay?” I looked away from her. “I can go, Bren, if you need some time alone.”

    “No.” I tried to keep my voice level. “Don’t go. Not like this. Not when I’m like this.” Not when I can’t trust myself to be alone. 

    “Do you... need a drink?” I blanched. Last night had been about the drink to ground me back. If I started drinking now, I would never want to stop. Lydia touched my shoulder lightly. Life was so different here in the Badlands, and as a baron particularly, when every move was watched and scrutinized. Her touch was comforting. “I worry for you, Bren.”

    “The storm will pass. It always does.” I whispered.

    “You shouldn’t have to weather it alone.” She murmured.

    “Maybe.” I compiled my papers into a folder, setting it aside. “Did you come alone?” She nodded. “Let’s head out to Rojas’ territory, let him know why the supply run will be late. After that, you can start delegating the work when we return, as you see fit.”

    It turns out that Lydia’s idea of delegating the work was to completely absolve me of any of it, by means of planting me in Minerva’s barony, complete with Waldo to distract me.

    “Um...” I turned to Lydia but she was already leaving, a packed bag at my feet.

    “Apparently you work too much.” Minerva commented. “Welcome back to the Lodge, Bren.”

    “I... thank you for hosting me, apparently.” I replied, picking up my bags. “So this is what I get when I tell her to delegate. How uh.... How long am I staying?”

    “Until Gideon’s gets built.” Waldo rolled up then.

    “I see I’m being conspired against.” I teased. He gave me a smile. 

    “Or until you decide that helping my barony isn’t worth it.” 

    “It has at least one good man. That’s enough to fight for.” I murmured. Waldo chuckled.

    “Stubborn.” He muttered under his breath. I only shook my head at him, pretending not to hear.  He followed me inside as Minerva took the lead, giving me a tour. It had been awhile since I’d been and coming here brought back memories.

    “You are very far away.” I gave Minerva a small smile.

    “Thinking about the first time we came here.”

    “About whether you would have been a baron if you’d stayed?” 

    “As simple as our lives were back then, we were only focused on survival. Our futures were so uncertain then.” I murmured. I had no doubt that Minerva and I were thinking about the same thing, but perhaps in a different light. She continued the tour without continuing the conversation, letting it go, showing me the gardens and the libraries. It probably wasn’t chance that we found Gaius in there, shelving books with a few of her other staff.

    “She’s putting you to work I see.” Gaius looked up. 

    “Well... most Cogs don’t know how to read so it helps to have someone who can dictate placement.”

    “A man of your talents shelving books.” I shared a look with Gaius for a moment, and he also noticed that we had been left alone. “If I didn’t know better...”

    “I’d say my baron is playing matchmaker.” Gaius replied. “It’s good to see you, Baron.” I gave him a weak smile.

    “Any chance I can get you to call me Bren?”

    “No title, huh?” He asked, folding a stack of books under his arm. 

    “There’s a time and place for titles and it isn’t here or now. Unless you really fancy me calling you Lord Chau?” Gaius choked, nearly dropping his pile of books. I stifled a chuckle, hand out to steady him. “Why don’t I help you put these away... Lord Chau?”

    “You enjoy flustering people, don’t you?” Gaius asked, handing me half the books and turning away to face the shelf. But even I could see how pink his cheeks were in the dimness of the room.

    “I know how to use certain titles to elicit reactions, if that’s the answer you’re seeking. Not everybody reacts the same way. Sometimes it’s just a sign of respect or politeness,”

    “And other times?”

    “Some people react with hunger. Or embarrassment.”

    “Are you embarrassed of your title, Baron Bren?”

    “I don’t see the need for a title until my rank is questioned, until my position at the head of my barony is questioned, or until my people are threatened. And even then I will not be a baron.”

    “What will you be?” Gaius spared me a curious look.

    “A Dragon-Lord.” I replied, shelving the book, fingers lingering on the faded gold embossed lettering. We worked quickly together, quietly finishing up the day’s work. “Have you ever read any of these books?”

    “Some, but not most of them. Mother insisted we be trained in the classics. Free reading wasn’t encouraged.”

    “Free thinking wasn’t encouraged.” Gaius shrugged slightly.

    “They say there is no easy way to be a baron, and my family has always expected their barons to be the best. If you take your feelings out of the equation, supposedly it’s easy. But I could never find taking my feelings out of the equation to be that easy. The others make it look easy... but you can never take things at face-value in the Badlands.”

    The vacation was... nice. It was kind of Lydia to think about me and disheartening that she knew me as well as she did, that I was so easy to read to her. 

    “I know that look.” Waldo murmured, joining me in the gardens. “Not enjoying your time off?”

    “I should be out there helping.”

    “You need this. Time away from your barony and all. Everybody does. Not everybody gets it.”

    “Yeah.” I looked to the ground. “I’m hearing that you think I should be thankful for something I didn’t have a choice in.”

    “Nix has the barony. Let Lydia take care of Gideon’s.”

    “It feels... wrong.” I murmured, taking a seat on the stone edge of a fountain, admiring the flowers and the fountains and feeling it go right through me like a soulless joy.”

    “Everything you ever wanted doesn’t taste like honey anymore?” Waldo asked. I glanced at him, keeping my gaze lowered, meeting his eyes like a petulant child. “You’re gonna tell that all you ever wanted was Quinn, aren’t you?”

    “It’s... good to be in the kind of position that allows me to change the way things run in the Badlands,”

    “But?” Waldo prompted.

    “Well,” I sighed, “I think you know the rest as well as I do.”

    “You and Gaius seem to be getting along well enough together.” Waldo offered. “You work well as a team.”

    “Don’t think I don’t know what you and Minerva are doing. And don’t think he doesn’t know either.”

    “So what do you think about him?” I sighed, deciding to humor Waldo for once.

    “He’s very pretty.” Waldo snorted.

    “Prettiness aside...”

    “Come on, Waldo.” I pushed myself to my feet. “If I tell you the right words, will it make you stop asking? He’s nice. He’d be a good baron, and a good partner for anyone.” I replied flatly. Waldo heaved a sigh from behind me. 

    “I wish you’d never come to the Badlands.”

    “Sometimes I wish that too.” I murmured, watching the sun setting on the horizon. “Sometimes I wish we could have gone anywhere but here. Anywhere would hurt less.” It was still hard to be vulnerable, and Waldo had seen a lot of it. “Being anyone else would hurt less.” I could feel my voice breaking in my chest. “If I could turn off, what makes me--”

    “You, you’d be miserable.”

    “I’m miserable now, Waldo!” I turned to face him, lips trembling, tears brimming my eyes. “The man I love tried to kill me, I’m being benched in my own barony, and most days I can’t even keep up with the magic that makes life easier. I just want to unapologetically be me, but unapologetically be me and it not hurt for once. It never stops hurting!” By now, I’d curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. It was a scream on my lips, wordless and soundless, just an empty keen that made my whole back hurt with the sheer force. The tears were silent, tracking down my face even though I’d tried to keep them at bay.

    This ran deeper than Quinn, Waldo realized, and explained Lydia’s worry. “What can I do to help?”     “Tch.” I knew his offer was genuine but he wouldn’t have liked my answer. I didn’t even like my answer, and I knew it was born from hurt and sarcasm and morbid humor. I just hugged myself tighter.

    “They worry because they love you, Bren. You’re not being benched; you’re hurting. You need time to recover. They just want to make sure you don’t push yourself too far before you’re ready. Which... you’re doing, if you don’t even have the energy to keep up with your own magic.” 

    Glad someone around here knew how to keep their own head about them. And I hated that he made sense. But there was a reason he was here, and a reason I had gone to him in moments of distress like this. Because one of us needed to keep some rationality, and I knew he could see the things I couldn’t, things that my brain wouldn’t let me see. I let out another wretched sigh, my breath ragged.

What if I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end?

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars.

    And Waldo knows the song isn’t for him. That it’s borne of heartbreak and anger and loneliness and pain, and it’s so unexpressed and bitter. He can hear the sadness.

    “Kid...” It was silent for the longest time and then his hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. And like Waldo had always done for me, he sat and listened. He was there. At this point I didn’t want words or reassurance; I just needed to know he was there.

    Gods only knew how much I wished that my own brain wouldn’t work against me. It felt like wallowing in my own misery, and wanting to help, and trying to help, but nothing would come out the way I wanted it to. Or just losing another part of myself to the way of the Badlands. 

    It was quiet for the longest time, Waldo and I sitting in contemplative silence. Oh Waldo knew he was out of his depth. Quinn he could handle, and any issues with Quinn he could handle. But people like Bren didn’t exist in the Badlands. Gaius was probably the closest thing and even he was a battle hardened warrior.

    “I want you to do something for me.” Waldo’s voice broke me out of my reverie. I looked up from nursing his touch on my shoulder. “I want you to start training again.”

    “Waldo, I’m not a fighter.” I started.

    “Don’t bullshit me.” Waldo teased, his expression turning serious. “You’ve endured it, survived it, seen the shitty side of the Badlands. Fight it. Fight for something better.”

    “So when do we start training?” Waldo chuckled.

    “Find someone who fights like you do, and ask them to train you. Cause we both know it ain’t me.” 

    “Heh.” I chuckled at that. I knew his meaning well enough. He wasn’t asking me to train with him because his style was different from mine; he was asking me to find someone who fought for the same things I did. Someone that wasn’t him. Someone that wasn’t Nix. Someone born and raised in the Badlands. “Thanks for staying. And for listening.”

    I hadn’t picked up my blades in a long time. Not since the incident out in the wilds. There was no reason to. So when Waldo dropped them off at the Lodge, I spent a long time staring at them. I didn’t remember bringing them both home which meant the other one had to have been recovered in the field. In fact, I still didn’t remember much about coming home at all.

    They were Minerva’s, or rather a gift from the Butterfly Territory to help us survive out in the wilds. Since we hadn’t stayed with her-- since I’d gone chasing a dream-- she felt it better for us to be equipped to survive the Armadillo Territory. The butterfly design started the dagger, and then split into two separate blades that could be taken apart and wielded separately. But they were in a state of disrepair, and needed to be cleaned and polished as much as any tool.

    So I spent one of my afternoons re-wrapping the leather hilts and polishing the blades, running them over a whetstone until they were sharp again.

    “You kept them.” Minerva had found me, tucked away in her butterflies’ barracks. I took in a deep breath.

    “I did.”

The image of blood spattering on a concrete ground flashed through my mind. I didn’t remember killing Zephyr like I remembered killing Ryder. 

“They saved my life.” 

He was hardly innocent, though he’d been unarmed, and I could have left him there.

   She noticed the measured look. “You never really forget the first life you take.”

    “I don’t remember Zephyr.” I replied. “But I’ll never forget the way Ryder died.” 

The way his back arched and his twisted cry of pain when his head hit the ground as I’d swept his leg and shoved him to the ground in an adrenaline fueled escape.

    “It was no secret that he hated you. Would have killed you if he’d had the chance.” 

The way his nails had clawed into me as we both locked into the mode of life or death, my hand at his throat, thumb gripping into his jugular. 

I should have left him there. I should have left it at that. But I hadn’t. I had ensured that he wouldn’t pursue me. That he wouldn’t ever come after me again.

The dagger I sharpened now was the very same one that I plunged through his skull. Death had been almost instantaneous. He’d barely had the time to cry out, let alone feel it.

That didn’t make it any less worse.

I could still hear the back of his hand hitting the ground when he ceased to struggle. I could still see the way the blood dripped off the blade. And then the next thing I remembered was being pursued.

“In another universe, perhaps we could have been friends.” I murmured lowly, cleaning the grit off the blade to examine it.

“Those wishes are wasted on the Badlands, Bren.”

“He was unarmed.”

“It didn’t make him any less dangerous. Being unarmed doesn’t make you or me any less dangerous.”

“Waldo wants me to start training again.”

“Oh? Is that why you’re in here, sharpening your blades?” Minerva asked. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”

“Me?” Minerva couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Anyone in the Badlands and you pick me? Bren, I...”

“You and I, we fight for the same goal. We might come from different backgrounds, but we’re not that different. We both want a better Badlands. We’re not fighting for us; we’re fighting for the people who can’t fight for themselves. We’re fighting for...”

“A better future.” Minerva finished. She paused for a moment, seeming to think it over. “I accept.”

#Welcome to the Badlands Series #Welcome to the Badlands #Sunny X OFC #Quinn X OMC #Into the Badlands Fanfic #cw: canon typical violence #cw: blood mention #cw: death mention #cw: self-harm mention #cw: suicidal ideation mention #cw: chronic pain/illness

[girlandthedarkness]

the avatar I azula x reader part II

what if azula will have a crush on a girl that turns out to be the avatar, what would she do? part one

a/n: this is a second part, thank you for everything, warning a very ooc azula and an evil!zuko, so if you don't like stuff like this don't read it

She won. The reign of the Ozai is over. To give him credit it was a rough fight, but despite her young age, Y/n wasn't worse, striking him without a hesitation, deadly. Y/n moves fast, the war is over, but the fight is not finished yet, she could see some devoted soldier who still keep attacking, but that's in vain. The ones deep red sky is now smoky blue and with a move that Katara taught her she rises the ocean's water to put down the fire who still burn. Y/n let a heavy sigh, she wants to pass out right here, forget about the war and what will happen after this. The girl almost let her body fall down when she remembered: Azula. The last time she saw her she was ready to fight along with Katara against Zuko, taking the flying bison. Y/n close her eyes and make her body to move again, the memories of the goodbye at the bay and her long road to earth kingdom still fresh in Y/n's mind like an open wound.

“She's in one of the village of Kyoshi Island, Y/n thought it's a good idea to hide from the fire nation under the protection of the order that one of her past lives created. She stayed here and tried to learn anything that will improve her bending, studying one by one the many Kyoshi's diaries and thanks spirits, there's a lot of them. Kyoshi was a fascinating avatar, her era was one of the most peaceful, so there's a lot that Y/n can learn from her, also she needs to learn everything about peacemaking.

In one of the days, where she was studying another old scroll she was interrupted. "Avatar Y/n, there are some intruders that we found at the beach, one of them claim to be an airbender." No one except a few Kyoshi's warriors knew that she's the Avatar, one of them was Suki, who's voice was fast and breathless, probably from running to her. "Take me to them."

Turned out it was indeed an airbender and also two people from water tribe, the girl, Katara, was even an waterbender. "Why are you here hiding?" Katara sounds hurt and her teary eyes prove it. "It's not like I have other options; I can't even learn how to bend. The only thing I'm good at is firebending." Y/n came closer to Katara and looking at her she addressed everyone. "Look guys, a year ago I wasn't even a bender and know look at me an firenation avatar, in the times when your own nation wouldn't hesitate to hunt and kill you." It was quiet while everyone perceived the story. "I can teach you airbending" Aang's voice is cheerful and you smile involuntary at him. "And I can teach you everything about waterbender, I don't know much, since, you know..." Katara fall silent, struggling to find the right words. "Since what? I don't know? What happened?" Y/n is panicked, what happened to southern water tribe? "Since they took all waterbenders from us" Sokka finished for her and this time Y/n fall silent, how can she assert herself as a good avatar, when her own nation has brought so much damage and pain? Training and traveling, that's how they spend the following months, hiding from the firenation, who mistakenly thought Aang was the Avatar. But keeping it a secret that she's the avatar was like a rock on Y/n heart, that's why when she found out the prison for earthbenders she decides to reveal herself, saving together with her friends everyone. That's it, it was the first step to bring the peace into the world, Y/n thought. Later alongside the road Y/n meet Toph Beifong, who became her earthbender master.

When Y/n and Azula finally meet, they were on different sides, Azula besides her brother, Zuko, and Y/n beside her friends. Y/n heart was beating so fast when she saw Azula, who changed so much during almost a year, but her hair was still proudly in a top knot and she's dressed in a perfect firenation clothes. Y/n couldn't help but smile, when she saw the face of the girl who hunts her both in nightmares and daydreams, but was only meet with a frown a stone cold face. Studying her, Y/n didn't notice when Zuko attacked her, fortunate she was saved by the earth that was bend as a shield by Toph. Y/n notice the quick mad glance that Azula throw at Zuko, until she attacked them as well, not actually making any harm, Y/n observe. 'Maybe she's not mad, she did say that she cares about you' Y/n though, dodging Azula's fire. It wasn't a long fight, two firebenders against three benders and the Avatar isn't the fairest battle, hopping quickly on Appa Y/n gaze one more time at the breathless Azula, engraving the princess image in her brain.

The next time they meet they were alone, standing on the same bay were almost year ago they split up, this time the weather is peaceful and sunny, with sea breeze. "How are you?" Azula's voice is calm as always, Y/n's voice on other hand is stuck in her throat and she can't speak anything. Azula takes this silent moment to look at the girl next to her, studying very careful every detail, feeling weak for the storm that is caused by Y/n in her heart. The last time they meet, Zuko was mad at her, claiming that she was too soft and that's the reason they lost. After that he didn't took her with him on hunting the Avatar anymore, finding thousands excuses, making Azula very mad. She knows Zuko do that deliberately to mess up her relationship with father, tending to win her and to became the father's favorite child. Azula don't care anymore, her father and family don't care about her, they never were, Azula's own mother hated her and father just use her. Her friends were the one who care about her, but after the story with Y/n being the Avatar she lost them as well. "Azula, I know you're loyal to your father, but he's evil, the firelord caused so much pain and destruction, but we can stop him, together. Please?" Y/n voice interrupts her endless thoughts again, like in old times. " I don't know if I can leave everything behind..." "No one here cares about you more than I do, join us, please." Azula will lie if she'll tell that she wasn't thought about leaving the firenation and join Y/n and her friend, but every time something was holding her back. But right now with the wind that cares softly her hair, she realizes, Azula don't have anything to lose anymore, everything she ever care about is gone and now she has a chance to return at least a piece of herself. "I'll join you Y/n, not avatar Y/n and not your friends, you."

That's how they found out the Ozai's plan about the Sozin Comet, that he wants to use it to destroy the Earth Kingdom. Together they come up with a plan how to defeat the firelord, training and strengthen themselves. Y/n knows that Katara and Azula have some disagreements, but she also knows that they best in their elements, that's why Y/n paired these two together. "Y/n, I don't want to fight alongside with some peasant, I’ll go with you." Y/n notice Katara's angry stare and how she's ready to reply something as well offensive. "You and Katara are the best fighters from our group, you'll go and fight with Zuko and his people and you'll take over the royal palace." Y/n quickly respond trying to avoid a quarrel before the battle. "And I'll became the firelord." Ends for her Azula.

Y/n found her with Katara near the palace stairs, while the waterbender was healing the unmoved body on the ground. That scares Y/n, until she notices Azula stating on other side, having a desperate stare and Y/n is sure, this sight will be tattooed in her brain forever. Y/n runs faster at the girls, fearing to be late, kneeling beside Katara, Y/n see Zuko, with a lighting mark on his chest, which rises slowly. "Is he alright?" Y/n knew that the siblings have a difficult relationship, but she just killed Azula's father, it was enough deaths for her to endure today. "He almost died, but I stabilized him, should be fine." Receiving the answer that she needed, Y/n hurried up to Azula, who sat silently on one of the stairs step. "Did you killed him?" Y/n don't need to ask who's him, she knows. "Yes" Azula slowly nods and stand up, giving Y/n the most bone crashing hugs that she ever received. This surprised Y/n, Azula was never for affection on public, choosing to keep everything private, she's still a princess.

The following weeks was the messed part of Y/n life. It's supposed to be a happy ending, Y/n overcome the firelord, won and end the one hundred war. But still so much destruction and pain that wouldn't heal over a small amount of time. Y/n is at her old house now, deciding to pick some honorable clothes that she left behind trying to save herself. Sitting here, in her old room it's weird now, Y/n grew up, but this walls still holds a part of her old, careless life, Y/n shakes her head as if to escape unpleasant thoughts. Soon enough Azula will be crowned as the new firelord, marking the new era for the firenation and she'll need to figure out a way to improve the world.

The coronation day is today and the spirits may be with them, because they blessed the day with a sunny and warm weather. Y/n takes a quick look at the large window, that revealed a big crowd, divided by clothes colors, she notices as well only one bright yellow spot, Aang, he's the only survivor of the air nomads. Y/n suddenly feels very selfish, she was worried about herself, that's why she decided to stay here, in palace, hiding in the dark halls. Not ones a thought about her friends flied through her mind. Also, Azula asked her to sit next to her, on the outside as the symbol that their nation started the path to the world healing, but Y/n was too afraid to meet the hope that people will put on her. She feels stupid now, she's the avatar and she needs to face the consequences, Y/n hurried herself to the hallway that leads outside, meeting here a certain nervous princess. "Did you changed your mind?" Azula asks with so much hope in her voice, that even if Y/n didn't change her mind prior, she would do it now. "Yes, I figured out that the world need their avatar and I'm willing to give them one." So together they start their walk to the crowd, ready to change the world side by side.

this is very god damn cheesy end, but i didn't wanted to do a sad ending, thank you for all supporting and kind words, I'm so excited to finally finish this, I work a few days, so I hope you enjoyed this!

#atla azula #azula xreader #azula x reader #azula / reader #princess azula #princess azula x reader #atla imagine #atla #avatar #aang #toph #zuko #azula #katara #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #avatar the legend of aang #atla x reader #atla x y/n #atla x you #azula/reader #fire nation

[allmightyneed]

Villain!All Might (Smite)x reader. part 2/20

link to part 1  

You pass weeks in a distracted, miserable state. Two, three, a month. Longer. At first, you chalk it up to the huge secret you now have to keep. A secret that feels as big as All Might himself. By a complete accident of time and place, you’ve come into possession of valuable intel on the most wanted criminal in Japan, possibly the world. Every day, you consider spilling the details to your best friend, who you also happen to work with. But how would you possibly bring it up?

“Oh, hey Kiko, guess what, I met a guy! Yeah… he’s super hot, tall, bit of a dark side. His name? I’m not sure, but professionally he goes by All Might.”

You can only imagine the confusion and disgust that would elicit. Even from Kiko, who usually tries to support your decisions, no matter how bad. The knowledge itself needles at you too, day after day. This information about his quirk could be the key to capturing him or bringing him down— forget using it to advance your own career. You could go to the police with this, you could go to Endeavor’s hero agency. You could change things. You could save lives. To your shame, that guilt isn’t strong enough to betray All Might’s confidence. He had trusted you. The number one villain trusted you with his secret identity, and apparently still does, because he hasn’t hunted you down and executed you. (Yet.)

Maybe he can’t. Your analytical mind spins theories in the absence of more definitive information. Maybe that muscle form takes a lot out of him, energy-wise. Maybe it’s too hard to maintain for long, and that’s why he sometimes disappears for days and weeks on end. And what about that whole coughing up blood thing?

By the third week, you’re using what little spare time you can find at work cobbling together a timeline of every documented All Might incident, closing in on a thousand entries in a hidden spreadsheet on your computer, and you’re only up to what most subject matter experts would consider the midway point of his active period. You haven’t found any patterns yet, nothing definitive, though as a foreigner yourself, his mysterious stint in America raises so many questions. 

“Hey!” A chipper voice and a knock-knock on your cubicle divider make you close the spreadsheet. You turn and see Kiko there, smiling and curious. 

“Hey!” 

“Whatcha working on?” 

“Oh, you know.” You wave your hand airily. “Nothing, really, just some busywork for Mr. Shimada.”

“Well, come on! It’s team lunch today.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yes. And you can’t skip. You’re looking too skinny.” That couldn’t be true, but the accusation reminds you of All Might, how he looked like he never got enough to eat. At least, one version of him. Kiko is sweet to be worried about you. She’s always so kind and considerate, always making sure you don’t bury yourself in your work, inviting you to lunch and for midday walks to get some sunlight. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not trying to get out of it.” You lock your computer screen and collect your jacket from the back of your chair. It will be nice to get a break outside of the office for sure. Given the sensitive nature of your work, your building is a secure one, with no windows and checkpoints to get in and out. Other than a few cultural holdouts, the workplace bears little resemblance to a traditional Japanese office, having adopted some more western practices, like cubicles and excessive use of PowerPoint. “Have you heard back from the Licensing Bureau?”

Kiko heaves a big sigh, which tells you that she hasn’t. “I thought I would last week at the latest, but nothing.”

You follow her into the elevator. “That’s weird. Don’t they usually send confirmation or denial pretty promptly?”

“Most petitioners receive the news right after their test.” She shrugs, throwing you a little smile as she precedes you into the lobby. “Guess I’m special.”

“Of course you are,” you laugh, rolling your eyes a little, but you mean it. She has pure hearted intentions about becoming a part-time volunteer hero. Discussion about the intricacies of Licensing Bureau policies and mailing schedules continues all the way to the barbecue restaurant where together you conclude, that her unusual quirk must be holding up their decision. It makes sense. Reanimation, her ability to create a zombie from a dead body, is dangerous and powerful, and is rightfully quite closely controlled. It’s also very much at odds with her sunny, happy personality. She rarely brings it up, but you know she regrets not having a more standard type of quirk. She’s also one of the few people who know about your quirk and has been a steadfast guardian of the secret.

Nothing much happens at the team lunch. Office gossip, rehashing the latest news, etc. Though, you do find out from Mr. Kawada, your supervisor, that you are one of two analysts who have been selected to support and consult on a new account the firm is taking on. So exclusive that you aren’t even allowed to know who the client is yet. You act grateful, mustering as much enthusiasm as you can— it’s a great opportunity— but inwardly, you’re daydreaming about All Might. That’s been happening more and more. 

When you get back to the office after lunch, you’re roped into a meeting with Mr. Kawada, and Mr. Shimada and the rest of the team leads. You know you should be paying attention but you zone out through most of it, replaying that fateful night in your head. 

A couple days later, the obsession reaches a critical level. You have to find him. Not as an analyst, not to bring him to justice. You just have to see him, and you don’t quite understand why, but it’s a need, a hunger that grows sharper and more potent each day. 

Riding the train to work, you start searching in your web browser. ‘All Might’. Too much noise. News articles from twenty different sources all about the same recent attacks clog the entire first page of results. When you get into the office, you go through the motions, sitting down at your workstation, logging in, all on autopilot. 

The only thing you can think about is All Might. As time has passed, you try harder and harder to keep fresh that image in your mind of how he looked in his other form. The skinny one, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. He hadn’t been any less intense like that. 

You refine your searches, hitting wall after wall of no results or way too many. A passing coworker’s idol-themed lanyard catches your eye; you finally hit on an idea: ‘All Might fan club’. That gets you something. You navigate to the first result, an outdated page with a garish background and little animated pixel version of All Might in the corner of the screen. Dancing. you have to admit it’s kind of cute. Suddenly, loud sound plays through your computer’s speakers. 

“I am on a website! I am on a website!” It’s All Might’s voice— his villain voice, which has people in other cubicles peeking over the dividers at you to find the source of the noise. Panicking, you close the tab. Then, after making sure your computer’s volume is muted, you find your way back to that same page. Sure enough, there’s a link at the top titled I LOVE TO MEET MY FANS. Following it brings you to a listing of a mailing address and… yes. A phone number. 

Heart racing, you copy it down on a sticky note, tuck it in your purse and, before it can register in your mind as a bad idea, slip out of the office. 

The train back to your home stop is nearly empty in the middle of the day. A few tourists, old people, some kids playing hooky. 

You turn your phone over and over. It said he loves to meet his fans… what fans? Doesn’t everyone hate him? Maybe that’s how you should open the conversation. Hey Mr. All Might, I know you’re universally reviled but I thought I’d hit you up anyway. The idea makes you snort-laugh. No. Just keep it simple.

You: hi.

A few seconds later, during which you stare at your phone, the three ‘typing’ dots appear. Then go away, with no message coming through. Could this really be him? Or is it just some weirdo’s phone number? Some otaku impersonating All Might on the internet. Not like you are in any position to be accusing someone of obsession.

You: this is the girl you met in the alley. You pause for a second, thinking of how you could signal to him who you are. He might meet a lot of girls in alleys. 

You: I saw you shrink.

A moment later, he replies with your name. Shock hits you; you click the screen off, black then click it on again. Your name is still there.

Him: I tHOUT I told =you to standstill and bee silent. 

It’s him. With lots of typos, but it’s him.

Oh, god. What are you doing? 

You don’t reply again until you get inside your apartment. Standing just inside the front door, with your shoes still on, you write out three versions of a witty retort, and erase each one. Stupid. What are you even trying to get out of this? 

You: I think people deserve to know who you really are. 

Nothing. Nothing for an unbearable minute that feels like another week gone by.

You: I’m going to the media. 

You’re not. You don’t know why you just told him that.

The three dots appear and disappear, again, with no new text. You watch the screen for what seems like an eternity, still standing in your entryway with your purse on your shoulder. 

And then there’s a thundering knock on the door.

Link to part 3

#villain all might #villain all might x reader #All Smite #all smite x reader #All Might #all might x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

[gideonthesoldier]

the first funeral ; self para

September 1976 

Weldon Elks was buried on a sunny Sunday morning, in a moving funeral service thrown by his family, who didn’t know anything about him.

Or, at least, they didn’t know how he spent his time. His job was fake, a made-up cover story tailored to fit the night and weekend patrols that few other Order members could stomach.

They didn’t know who his friends were, either. That much was evident. Gideon had handed his coat to somebody when he walked in, streaks of tears staining his face. It was only later that he’d realized it was Weldon’s brother who’d taken his coat – and that he’d forgotten to track it down again before leaving, which explained the cold he fell to in the days that followed. Everywhere in the room, those not too distracted by mourning were finding the time to shoot curious looks at the redheaded twins, inconsolable in the back of the room. 

Someone asked Gideon a question, at one point – was he the nephew of so-and-so, the old bastard? Gideon, who was choking on the smell of flowers, accidentally agreed. Not that that stopped the whispering.

Gideon hadn’t been a member of the Order for long, and this was the first death he’d experienced. He hadn’t been there when It (the capital-I infected everyone’s whispers at that point) happened, but the aftermath was difficult to swallow. There would be more lost before the war was over, Gideon knew that. There would be harder sights to stomach, toughing hills to climb. Gideon knew that.

But fresh out of school and barely dispensed of his status as a New Recruit, he couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine anything more gut wrenching than the sight of Weldon’s sister throwing herself, sobbing, over the edge of the closed casket as if Weldon would wake up within and push the lid open with his infectious laugh. He couldn’t imagine anything more unnerving than the pale looks of all the elderly people in the room who assumed they’d be the firsts – by a long shot – to go.

And none of them even knew why he’d died. Or how. Or for who.

Definitely not for who. The Elks family was a small one, closely knit. Neighbors came and went, cousins struggled to control their children while maintaining their composure. But the main family, Weldon’s real one, stood in the same protected knot at the front of the room.

Weldon’s other family stood together at the back of the room. 

Two redheaded twins, a man missing an eyebrow, two blonde woman that had nothing in common save the color of their hair and their penchant for defensive charms, and the space they were saving for Moody or Dumbledore, all the while knowing they wouldn’t show up. They stood just as tightly knit as the other group, murmuring variations of ‘we should say something’ and ‘we should leave.’ 

All around them, everyone else murmured, ‘who are those people?’

When Molly got married, Gideon and Fabian had delivered their toast the same way they’d done everything up to that point in their lives – together. They’d come into the world together, entered school together, watched their sister float down the aisle as a bride together. Joined the Order together. They were together today, too. Standing at the back of the funeral hope. There was no speech – eulogy, Gideon reminded himself, it’s called a eulogy – to deliver today. Not together. And certainly not for Gideon.

That honor (was it an honor, though?) belonged to Weldon’s partner Tristan.

Gideon had nothing to read, which was good because he had nothing to say.

Or, rather, he had too much to say.

Too much to say and no time given to say it, surrounded by a roomful of people that did not know who he was and did not understand why he looked every bit as upset as the rest of them. Not that Gideon could blame them for their confusion. He didn’t know any of them, either.

Even among the tearful clan of Order members who’d shown up to mourn, Gideon didn’t feel known. He’d begun to think of them as his family, in the loosest of terms. But his real family was beside him: Fabian hadn’t let go of his arm since they walked in, and Gideon knew he wouldn’t drop it until – until, not unless – he twisted it free of his own accord. He was grateful for it. He hated it, too.

Tristan (Gideon didn’t know his last name and felt an unpleasant twist of satisfaction in that fact) stood up to give the eulogy at one point, and it didn’t last long. It was a tidy, emotional thing, which had clearly been written and rewritten until it sounded perfect. Perfect, but dry. Perfect, but cold.

There was nothing cold about his face when he fell into silence. Someone tried to be helpful, prompted him along. Asked if he had ‘any last words.’ That blow fell suddenly and heavily against everyone in the room. There was something so sinking, so final about it. Last words. It was a concept that none of them could grasp, even after spending their day in this cramped, perfumed room talking around the idea of death to honor a man who was already dead. Who could not hear them. Eyes searched for eyes, looking for answers even on the faces of those they did not know. Did Tristan have any last words? Did anyone have any last words?

Oh, god, Gideon heard someone whisper, closer to the front of the room. It was a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t see where it came from, or from whom. Did Weldon have any last words?

It was a rhetorical question. Of course he’d had. But that didn’t change the fact that a sickly confusion was now spreading through the room. It was a mix of people realizing that they didn’t know exactly how Weldon had died. It was a mess of people realizing that everyone there would eventually have last words, and that somebody might not be around to hear them.

Gideon thought about wrenching his arm away from Fabian. He held onto his brother more tightly, instead.

Last words…last words about Weldon? It didn’t seem possible. What it seemed was ridiculously simplistic, especially because of all the things still unsaid.  

Like the fact that Weldon had faked a work conference out of town for a long weekend just because one of the youngest Order recruits was having panic attacks about her glitching shield charms and he wanted the uninterrupted time to coax and coach her through it; Gideon had gone too, lounged on a couch nearby and watched Weldon’s wrist snapping with the elegant confidence of a swimmer.

Or the fact that Weldon spent every Christmas Eve cooking a dinner for Order members who had no families to go back to, or didn’t feel safe returning home. He’d looked genuinely stricken when the Prewett twins mentioned that they’d be spending the pre-holiday at Molly’s. He’d pressed a plate of still-warm leftovers into Gideon’s hands the next time they saw each other after New Year’s.

“I want to go home,” Gideon whispered to Fabian. For a moment, he worried his brother hadn’t heard. But then an identical chin gave a slight, understated nod. Neither of them moved yet, but they’d made the transition from staying to leaving. They were treading water through the uncomfortable grey space in between. Fabian’s eyes flickered toward the exit, mapping out – it was unlike him, unlike the both of them – the least intrusive path possible. Gideon’s eyes stayed fixed on Tristan.

They’d almost kissed once, Gideon and Weldon. At the time, Gideon chalked it up to his imagination. There had been drinks, and they were talking the same way they’d always talked, and nothing had happened at all. But there had been a moment…a look. Something heavy and tangible had passed between them in that moment, and the only thing that stood between a grieving Gideon and a guilty Gideon now was the fact that neither of them had leaned in, and that nobody else knew.

Gideon did not remember arriving home. He only remembered the heavy sensation of falling into bed and passing out almost immediately, some faint half-conscious awareness of Fabian telling him he needed rest to feel better. Pulling the blankets around himself to block out the light, Gideon also remembered being seized by a fleeting, desperate hope that he’d sleep peacefully and long enough to dull the overwhelming effect of all that had happened that day. That day, and in the weeks leading up to it. He just wanted to sleep easy.

He did not.

That was the sleep that brought his nightmares for the first time.

When Gideon woke up, visions of his bloodied and tortured family still swam before his eyes, ripping him out of sleep and shoving him into a world of cold sweat and a dark, lonely bedroom. It was the first time he realized he might never sleep easy again. Not until the war was over; not until he’d done everything possible to make sure his family was safe.

He needed to make sure both of his families were safe.

He didn’t want to have a funeral with a dividing line to separate the people that knew only a certain side of him. He didn’t want to stand in the back of the room watching more of his friends carried away by pallbearers to find new rest beneath the ground. He didn’t want to stand at the front of the room, either, knotted into a grieving family unit and forced to read out platitudes about people who couldn’t be dissolved down into a few neat words on a page.

All in all, Gideon had slept fourteen hours. He didn’t feel rested at all.

He stood up, still in his clothes from the day before, and didn’t break stride until he arrived at Order Headquarters. He’d been scheduled to have the next few days off but undid that with a stubborn wave of his hand. The next mission, he insisted. Whatever you’ve got. I’m in.

It was better, he reasoned, than somebody else having to go.

#xx self para #wiltimelines #it's LATE and FULL of NPCs i'm doing great #xx hc #september 1976

[quakerjoe]

A Cuppa Joe for 3 January 2019

 Regarding Patriotism

 Patriotism. What the fuck IS that exactly? I used to think it stemmed from the nation’s actual motto “E Pluribus Unum” meaning “From Many, One” where we all stand together, united, as one people, Americans, and look out for one another. That was a hard delusion to wake up from. While such a thing is possible if we so desire it, it isn’t going to happen evidently. Seriously, think about this for a moment. Who do you see the most out here going on about “patriotism” today? Angry white dudes. I don’t see African Americans out there blowing the “Look at me, asshole! I’m a PATRIOT!” horns loudly, nor anyone from the LGBTQ community or from any minority such as our Islamic/Arabic neighbors who came here to get away from all the radical, violent religious bullshit and just want to pray in peace. Angry. White. Dudes. All pining for a “Christian Nation” while acting exactly the opposite to the teachings of Christ. They clean their guns and play circle-jerk warrior in the woods with their limp-dick friends because they’re too much of a sad sack to actually JOIN the military and SERVE. THAT would be Patriotism.

Then again, is serving in the military really being patriotic anymore? I was proud when I served, but looking back on it, WHO was I really serving? Was I truly protecting the US from some threat? Not really. We’re on the other side of the planet, far away from any direct threat. Two massive oceans divide us from any other military that may want to harm us. Then again, WHY would any other military even WANT to harm us? Could it have something to do with the way this nation invades other nations to topple their elected governments and establish banana republics in order to get what “we” want from them? By “we”, I of course don’t mean that you or I give a shit what the price of bananas is. Oil, on the other hand… We all care about oil prices because we’re constantly being blocked from developing and using green power sources so that the rich twats in Big Fossil Fuels can get even richer. They spend thousands on buying elected officials here who band together and pass a tax break law that gives those rich twats savings in the millions and even billions.

But do Central and South American nations have a mobile force to invade us? Fuck no. What about Persian nations that we and other European nations carved up for oil field access, ignoring the territories if Sunni and Shiite, creating nations that have all sort of in-fighting between the two peoples? That’s on us, kids. Still, they don’t have a military worth a damn that can cross the oceans and get to us. So is being over THERE being “patriotic” and really defending our freedom? Fuck no. So WHO are we serving? Rich. White. Dudes. Period. Are THEY “patriotic”? They bribe the government to use military force in nations that they want something from, like oil, or poppy fields for Big Pharma, and they USE us as cheap mercenaries; cannon fodder to secure their FINANCIAL interests, and the thanks veterans get when they get home is shit wages, their families on some sort of financial assistance, and when they need medical or mental health, we practically ignore them and then wonder why the suicide rate for returning vets is so high. Fewer mouths for Uncle Sam to feed, right? Meanwhile, the rich, white dudes don’t ever have to look at them or deal with them and even though the blood is on their hands from war, they weren’t the ones sent in to do the killing. THEY don’t have to deal with the consequences; they just cash in and get rich. No guilt. No empathy. No PTSD. Nada. Just loads of cash. Meanwhile, we use up our munitions and equipment and keep the War Machine and major contractors super-financed in contracts that aren’t bid for anymore. That doesn’t sound at all patriotic to me, but there’s something you need to understand.

YOU are not a person, you’re a component. You’re something to exploit and rob. When people in government today see “We the People” they automatically see that as “We the Rich Fuckers” and the rest of us are the plebes; the livestock that generates money for them and we don’t matter to them. If we did, we’d have had free healthcare coverage and education decades ago, and it’d also be the best on the planet and there’d be a sense of pride in being an American from the richest down to the poorest because we’d be at our healthiest and our smartest. Instead, we revel in our arrogance, our ignorance, and our stupidity. We roll in a puddle of hubris and it seems that most “patriots” don’t even know what that word means. THAT, dear Joes, is the new definition of “patriotism” among the ‘plebe class’, and just like in days of Olde, when the Constitution was first drafted, “People” meant the wealthy class who owned land and property and were the only ones who voted. They got the good food, the good medicine, and the good education while you got little to none of any of it and you’d have been working since the day you could walk and talk at the same time until the day you dropped dead. That’s what MAGA is all about, only trumplefuckstick’s supporters are poor, stupid fucks who must believe that they’re really millionaires who are temporarily inconvenienced at the moment and that they’ll be rich soon with 45 at the helm.

Their idea of “patriotism” is to literally shit on everyone here that isn’t of their ilk- ignorant-as-fuck white, cist-gendered, white, “Christian” MEN or their brainwashed, sidekick women who dine on hate as well. They’re praying for the End of Days one moment, while hoping that just before that happens they get an opportunity to hunt down and murder Obama or HRC or just go on an all-out “nigger hunt” or a chance to do-in the “towelheads” living here. They’re praying for a chance to slaughter anyone LGBTQ because the bible calls them an abomination to be destroyed. They give me the impression that they watch “The Handmaiden’s Tale” and jerk off to it because using women as breeding stock and enslaving them and killing the “uppity ones” is a dirty, wet dream of theirs, and they call it “patriotic”.

So someone out there, please remind me what it truly means to be a Patriot of the United  States of America. As far as I can see, we went from aspirations towards “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country” to “I got mine; fuck the rest of y’all! Bootstraps, fucker! Pull yourself up or just die ‘cause I’m not going to help you. I had to work hard to get what I’ve got. Get a job!” Instead of looking UP at the rich and powerful shitting on us, too many of us are looking down at those less fortunate than those wielding the “White Privilege” card and blaming the POOR for all their woes as they look down their noses at them and continue to let the shit roll downhill instead of reaching down to help someone up. It’s a disgrace. It’s the OPPOSITE of being patriotic. It’s the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of what I was taught it meant to be an actual Christian and frankly, the level of hypocrisy from the religious people here is sickening, insulting, and fucking INSANE. 

I tire of so-called “Christians” showing up here telling me that they’re not ALL bad. Well, they ARE. If you’re watching evil transpire before you and you do NOTHING, you’re guilty of that evil too, and frankly I am still waiting for some sort of allied Christian movement to get together enough to call out the ‘false prophets’ getting rich in this country and getting behind, en masse, to see to it we get Universal Healthcare for ALL, a bolstered safety net program that includes “food stamps”, the promotion of medicines and science because if there is a god, we were blessed with senses that should be trying to study how He/She/It made the universe and how to make the world a healthier, safer place of PEACE, not a nation with a bloated military budget that can’t even pass muster when audited while people here in our own country are going hungry and homeless because “fuck you, you peasant, that’s why”. If your idea of being a “Christian” is ignoring the bible and praying at home, in private and you insist on going to a tax have to pray (yes, church) then you’d better be DOING something to fight against the evils sweeping the nation and against the tenants of Jesus. Evangelicals, or Talibangelists as I call them, are on the move. Where the fuck are YOU? Yeah, hanging around your community trying to do “good deeds” is sweet and all, but wouldn’t it fight hunger and poverty MORE, in line with Christ’s teachings, if you got off your ass and rallied AGAINST the Talibangelists and called them out on their bullshit? Where’s your presence in the REAL clear and present danger here? Where is YOUR voice when it comes to defeating the false prophets we’ve been warned repeatedly about?

>Matthew 7:15 clearly states “Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are raving wolves.” Perhaps you “Christians” should STOP ELECTING THEM! Forwarding and backing known pedophiles and sex offenders doesn’t sound too Christian OR patriotic to me.

>Matthew 24:11 Jesus says “and many false prophets will appear and lead many astray.” Sounds like the brainless twats on FOX and trumplefuckstick lying to the masses who slop back the shit like it is gravy and not the feces that it is.

>Matthew 24:24 says “For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect.”

>Second Peter 2:1-3 “But false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them, bringing upon themselves swift destruction. And many will follow their sensuality, and because of them the way of truth will be blasphemed. And in their greed they will exploit you with false words. Their condemnation from long ago is not idle, and their destruction is not asleep.” 

>First John 4:1 “Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world.” So forgive my skepticism of all you alleged “Christians”, but I’ll believe in you when you SHOW me that you’re not all talk and no ACTION. 

> Jeremiah 23:16 Tell me this one doesn’t apply to suckers who vote GOP and Corporate Democrat as well as those fuckwits who go to mega-churches to throw away their money and their souls: “This is what the LORD Almighty says: “Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they fill you with false hopes. They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.” 

> Ezekiel 13:9 “My hand will be against the prophets who see false visions and who give lying divinations. They shall not be in the council of my people, nor be enrolled in the register of the house of Israel, nor shall they enter the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord God.” We have truly FAILED as a nation at this one, kids. So quit with all the religious preaching on my page. If you haven’t sold all you own and have given it all to the poor, then I’m not going to take you seriously. (Matthew 19:21 and Luke 18:22). 

From what my parents and grandparents taught me, part of being a Patriot was to confront evil and help those in need, and honestly, I’m not seeing it from the “Christian” community, only their hubris and vanity and a defensive sense of pride compounded with an extremist element here that uses the Bible as license to commit all manner of atrocities against their fellow countrymen/women etc. even though we were WARNED about this sort of fuckery- “because they are turning whole families away from the truth by their false teaching. And they do it only for money” (Titus 1:11) AND “Perverse disputings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.” (1 Timothy 6:5).

If you haven’t noticed, we are HERE: 

> 2nd Tim 4:3-4 “the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.” So let’s just pull this sanctimonious bus off to the side of the pretentiousness highway and cut the shit with your religious ramblings and let’s focus on saving the world and figuring out what it truly means to be “patriotic”, shall we? We SHOULD be looking out for one another REGARDLESS of religious beliefs.

Having said all that, Dear Joes, tell me this- how do YOU define “Patriotism” today?

[sweetpeasgirl]

Two | Pop's and Long Nights

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Word count: 2512

Warning: Mentions of physical abuse

Summary: Y/n has to get out of the house quickly and faces the difficulty of the streets of Southside Riverdale before wandering to Pop’s and running into a certain tall serpent

Tag list: (tell me if you want to be added)

@mariechristine91 @chanel5

Your heart races as the footsteps get louder. Your stomach aches, a reminder of what happened only minutes ago. You had managed to make it to your room and to lock the door in your haze of fear. Your window is open, ready for you to climb through it, but you can’t find the one thing you need. It’s not in your closet, nor under your bed, and it’s definitely not already in your pocket. You’ve checked there too many times already. It seems that, if you want to make it out of your very own house of horrors, you’ll be leaving without your cellphone.

You hear the door handle jiggling behind you and you run for the open window, launching yourself through it as the door splinters behind you. You land in a pile on the grass, barely having time to grab the backpack stashed under the large oak on your property before you’re sprinting down the familiar pathway. You hear his slurred shouts from behind you. Slut. Whore. Mistake. You just keep your head down, your feet on the pavement, and your mind closed. You don’t need to hear what you already know to be true anyway.

You slow your pace when you make it to the Main Street. For a Friday night it’s pretty dead but that doesn’t make you any less nervous to be wandering the streets alone. You have no plan, no money, and no idea when it will be safe to re-enter your house. That makes for one hell of a long night but, really, what else is new? It’s not like you didn’t know that sooner or later you’d have to flee your own house again. You had gotten about a month free from escaping, it was due for a night on the streets about now. It builds your character.

You keep to under the bright lights, away from the ominous stares of the darkened alleyways and sewer grates. You hate the dark. That’s another downside to having to leave your house. Every noise you hear makes you jump and look over your shoulder. You’re freezing, the cold air preying on your uncovered fingers. You can see your breath coming out in white clouds of fog. You’d bet the few dollars in your pocket that your nose is red too. All in all, you want to sit down right here, on the dirty sidewalk, and cry. You feel like that’s all you do anyway; cry.

You pull your backpack from your shoulders, stopping under a street lamp to see what you managed to throw in there before you tossed it outside. A change of clothes, eleven dollars, and an old, dog eared paperback about falling in love on a sunny beach. Everything you need in order to buy yourself a burger at Pop’s and a little shelter for the time being. Besides, it’s been too long since you last saw that old man. It’s about time you payed him a visit. It might do you some good to clear your head.

You sling the bag back over your shoulders and make your way to the other side of town. It’s a long walk but you don’t mind so much anymore, knowing you’re going somewhere with a little life still left in it. It always does feel like you’re crossing a barrier when you go from the Southside to the Northside. It feels like going from danger to safety in the blink of an eye. All you have to do is walk from one sidewalk corner to the next and you’ve stepped over the metaphorical tracks that divide the already small town into two smaller parts.

The red glow of Pop’s breaks your train of thought, warming your face under the full moon. You run the last few steps towards safety; towards one of the only places that has ever felt like home. Pop’s is like that for a lot of you teenagers in Riverdale; a beacon of hope in what is steadily becoming it’s very own horror movie. When you finally get tired of watching your own backs you always find yourselves in the same place, resting under the glow of a faded sign.

The door chimes when you enter but no one really glances to see who stumbled in. Why would they? It’s just a tired girl in an even more worn hoodie. No one needs to see that. But, much to your relief, Pop’s welcomes it.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you bud,” Pop’s quickly finds his way around the counter, pulling you into a much needed hug, “how’ve ya’ been doing? Not so good it looks.”

Pop’s, you have no idea. You pull back after a minute, trying to soak up as much warmth as you can get before releasing the jolly old man. You try not to notice the wrinkles on his skin. You don’t ever want to think about a time where Pop’s isn’t there to greet you with a smile.

“I’ve been better but I’ll live. I sure could use some food though, I don’t think I’ve really eaten anything today,” you laugh at your understatement, forcing the bitterness out of your voice.

You haven’t eaten since yesterday and the morning at that. It was a bowl of cereal before your dad woke up. You can tell it shows on your face. Your eyes are sunken and your skin is lacking it’s usual lustor. Plus, without the needed nutrients, your bruises have yet to really fade. You didn’t have time to cover them before you left either, so they’re bright on your cheek. The perfect cherry on a horrible sundae. The ice cream is melting but you refuse stop eating it.

“What do you want, kiddo?” Your stomach rumbles when you look at the menu board.

You memorized it years ago but you need all the time you can get.

“Can I have a cheese burger? And a strawberry milkshake please?” You take the crumpled bills out of your pocket while you speak, smoothing them to the best of your ability as to look somewhat presentable to Pop.

You want to look like you have one aspect of your life sorted through. Like you’re not walking into the one place that means something to you with your hat in your hand. Like you have enough money for your meal and then some, not just for your first meal in a few days. You just want to be seen as a normal teenage girl.

Pop glances at your hand, “put your money away bud, it’s on me. You want onion rings too?”

His generosity would be perceived as small to an outsider looking in but to you, in the midst of your desperation, it is unmeasurable. It brings tears to your eyes and all you can do is nod your head, attacking the old man with another hug. He just chuckles his familiar laugh and rubs your back before shooing you to one of the only empty booths.

It’s in the back, hidden away quite well from the rest of the diner. The lights are a little more dim and the booths are just a little more faded. It’s right next to a big window looking out on the parking lot. You slide in immediately and lean your head against the cool glass, closing your eyes for a moment. The hum of the diner, and the lights above you, lull you into a sort of daze. You don’t mind; it’s nice to be able close your eyes when you want to sleep.

“Hey, bud. Wake up,” a warm hand on your shoulder wakes you from your short nap, “you need to eat something, sunshine.”

You rub your eyes, letting out a small yawn. You thank Pop as he leaves the abundance of food on the table. It’s beautiful and you can feel the tears rushing back. Pop rubs your shoulders, tells you to eat and to ask for more, and walks away. You don’t hesitate to dig in. You savour it, pulling out the old romance novel and hunkering down. It’s about time you just sat back and let the world keep moving without you for a little while.

You glance out the window, onion ring in hand, to see motorcycles that you hadn’t seen before. Your head races with impossible ideas. You don’t give them any leeway, just noting the bikes and not anyone who could be on them. That will only drive you crazy. You don’t have your phone, what are the odds that he’ll walk through those doors?

The answer: more likely than you’d think.

A group of teenagers with black leather jackets and slicked back hair walk into the diner, hollering and laughing with each other. To most of the people in Pop’s it looks like raw chaos but to you it looks like fun. You’ve never been one for normality, no matter how much you crave it. It’s just never comes naturally to you. You’re starting to be more okay with that. If it means being as carfree as them, or at least gathering a facade like them, then why not? What can be worse than what you already have?

You look back down at your food, forcing yourself to not scan the group for the boy you know isn’t there. You just take a bite of your cheeseburger and flip the page. The girl just got to the island and she hates it. You want to scream at her; tell her to get her shit together and to just fall in love like she’s supposed to. Some people don’t have it that easy, you want to say. If only she could hear you, she would know just how badly you wish you could trade places with her. A white sand beach below you and a gorgeous boy beside.

“Y/n, why the hell didn’t you call me?” The book tumbles out of your hands at the rough voice calling out across the diner.

Your eyes widen at the tall, dark haired serpent storming towards you. Your eyes scan over Sweet Pea, taking in his tight jeans and flannel thrown over a fitted t-shirt. He looks rugged, like he just came off the streets as well which, by the sight of his rowdy friends, was just where they were. His hair is messy and you kind of want to run your fingers through it. The tattoo on his neck just adds to the appeal, it’s ink sharp against his tanned skin. He’s healthy, spare the bags under his eyes. And, god, those eyes are perfect. Melted chocolate and filled with a passion you didn’t even know existed.

“I lost my phone,” the words barely escape your lips before you’re hauled into a sturdy chest.

Before you can stop it, a small groan of pain escapes your lips. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed but, alas, Sweet Pea isn’t anyone else. He sets you down on the edge of the table before you can protest, wanting to stay in his warm arms a little bit longer. You hadn’t noticed the chill until it was gone but now it’s back and you’re fully aware of that. You pout up at him but he doesn’t notice as he’s studying you for any new marks. You decide to spare him the trouble and lift the edge of your shirt, your hoodie now stashed in your backpack. A fresh handprint stands bright against your skin, a mangled green and purple badge of dishonour.

Sweet Pea swears under his breath, tracing the outline of the bruise with his fingertips. Wherever his hands touch fire erupts against your skin, as cliche as that sounds. It fogs your mind for a moment. You almost forget the reason he’s touching you.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” His voice is low this time, pleading.

You shake your head, unable to meet the eyes you can feel staring into your head, “I can’t let you get hurt too. I’m sorry.”

Your voice breaks slightly at the end and you wrap your arms around yourself. All you want to do is tell him the truth but that would mean risking him to the wrath of your father. You wouldn’t submit your worst enemy to that, let alone your closest friend. The hot tears slide down your face without your permission, yet another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Baby, please,” he steps closer to you, taking your face in his hands and lifting your chin until your eyes meet his shattered brown ones, “I can help you.”

With a few little words, the dam of emotions inside of you breaks. You had done well keeping it together for the entire night but as soon as Sweet Pea came into frame that entire idea had been shot to hell. You dissolve into choking sobs, the kind that make you dizzy, and he tucks you neatly into his chest again. His leather and pine scent wraps around you as he tightens his arms and drops his head on yours, completely enveloping you.

“You can’t- I’m not-,” you can’t get enough air but you need to finish the heartbreaking idea that you started, “I- You can’t help me. I- I have no where to go from here, I have nowhere to go, and this is the first thing I’ve eaten since yesterday. It’s best if you just forget me, forget what you’ve seen. Forget everything. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it. Just forget it all!”

You push away from him at that, grabbing your backpack and running as fast as you can out of Pop’s. Two voices, the two people you’ve ever known to take their time to talk to you, call out behind you but, for the second time that night, you just keep your head low and eyes on the pavement. You don’t make it far, though, as apparently tall gang members are quick on their toes.

You’re picked up, this time, and thrown over Sweet Pea’s shoulder as he starts walking towards an old, black pick up. He keeps an arm secured firmly over your behind as he pulls open the passenger door of his truck. He sets you down but keeps his hands on your hips if only to keep you from running again. His deep eyes stare into yours, daring you to look away.

“Okay baby, apparently we have some things we need to sort out. So this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to come home with me. And we’re going to sit there until you tell me what’s happening. And then you’re going to get some sleep. Because, baby, those bags under your eyes aren’t voluntary and it’s hurting me a little.”

All you can do is nod, your eyes locked on his and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. It’s going to be one hell of a night.

“Okay,” he leans in and places a searing kiss on your forehead, “let’s do this.”

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #riverdale series #riverdale one shot #riverdale #the cw riverdale #cw #jordan connor #sweet #pea

[hg47]

47 ISLAM

47 ISLAM By @hg47 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Instead of a Dedication, an Appeal: Before you accuse an Infidel of hate speech against Islam, accuse Islam of hate speech against Infidels. ++++------- http://www.amazon.com/Cruel-Usual-Punishment-Terrifying-Implications/dp/1595551611/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380310980&sr=1-1&keywords=CRUEL+AND+USUAL+PUNISHMENT+by+Nonie+Darwish In CRUEL AND USUAL PUNISHMENT Nonie Darwish maintains that there are upwards of 35,000 Islamic laws and scriptures urging intolerance and violence against Non-Muslims. ++++------- http://www.cspipublishing.com/statistical/charts.html On one of the many excellent charts at this site is a break-down of the Anti-Jew text within Islamic holy writings.  For comparison purposes, Hitler’s MEIN KAMPF is referenced at 7% Anti-Jew, slightly more than the Koran at 6.7% Anti-Jew. ++++------- If Islam is a serious threat to our Western way of life, don’t we need to know about that?  Don’t we need, as Infidels, the freedom to study what Islam is all about, and then the freedom to warn others according to our conclusions?  Don’t we need the freedom to compare our own conclusions on Islam with what other Infidels have concluded about Islam?  This requires Freedom of Speech for the sharing of knowledge, even if that “knowledge” be provably wrong or offensive to some. A part of Freedom of Speech is that particular ideas will offend others.  It’s a given.  Some widely disseminated ideas are silly.  Some so called “truths” can be scientifically demonstrated to be false, even though a majority of people may believe them. The moment blasphemy laws kill Freedom Of Speech, our Western culture is done.  Stick a fork in it.  When laws are in place which require that communication be inoffensive to everyone ACCORDING TO RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES, Scientific Inquiry is finished.  The proponents of slavery will have then won against us the believers of LIBERTY. What of the individual Infidel who is offended by a particular religion?  What of the individual Infidel who is frightened and horrified by a particular religion?  Is that person’s voice to be silenced by mob rule and by fear? To be in opposition to Islam is not to be racist, but rather to be concerned about your own survival, and the survival of your own culture.  It is to be religionist (in the sense of being in opposition to a specific religion).  Muslims are all races. About 60% of the world’s Muslims are not Arab, which makes Arabs a minority within Islam. Inside the United States, only about 20% of Arab Americans are Muslim (circa 10/15/2013 5:34 AM).  Race has nothing to do with it.  Something like 65% of Arab Americans are pious Christians who put most of us casual home-grown American Christians to shame by their devotion to Christ. Christianity has an interpretive tradition where the violent Old Testament passages concerning non-Christians tend not to be taken so literally, and are generally understood today to be amended by Christ’s teachings in the New Testament.  In Church, a typical sermon today involves an appeal to good behavior according to Christian principles and tolerance of others, regardless of their faith.  Although, some fire and brimstone for personal failure to comply with Christ’s message may be involved.  It is a very personal thing: an intimate relationship between the valued individual and a basically loving God. Islam is the reverse: the peaceful passages in the Koran concerning Infidels are cancelled out by the violent passages about us, and the literal violent verses have been codified into unchangeable Islamic Sharia law for precisely how we Infidels are to be subdued.  In Mosque, a typical sermon today involves an appeal to good behavior according to Islamic principles, and prompts for intolerance concerning unclean Infidels; likely, blaming Infidels for Muslims’ problems will be involved; and don’t forget, religious chanting for the death of the enemies of Islam.  It is an impersonal thing: a relationship between The Muslim Group which is superior to all else, the Infidels who are inferior, all before a harsh, unpredictable God. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ NOTE-1: On My Use Of The Word “Islamic” There is much disagreement among Muslims of what constitutes an “Islamic Nation,” and of what “Islamic” means.  I use the term to refer to Muslims or things associated with Muslims.  A Muslim majority country, I regard as an Islamic country; just as I would call a Christian majority country a Christian country. (In Western Nations, there tends to be a separation of Church and State; in Muslim majority nations, Islam tends to percolate and influence every aspect of the State.) The technically-correct definition is probably something like: “Only when the Sharia is the established law in a country, does it constitute an Islamic state.”  There is no way to please everyone: Shias and Sunnis are murdering each other over minor disagreements of what constitutes proper Sharia and what true “peaceful” Islamic behavior is. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 47 REASONS WHY I FEAR ISLAM -1-I am suspicious of any religion that demands the death of any member who quits.+MORE+ -2-In Islamic nations any Muslim male can have his way with any female he has access to, because it is impossible to convict a Muslim male of rape under Islamic law. +MORE+ -3-I am suspicious of any religion with a zero tolerance for criticism: Any criticism of Islam is blasphemy, the penalty for which is death. +MORE+ -4-I am suspicious of any religion which claims that it is perfect “as is” and must never be changed or moderated on penalty of death for anyone attempting to do so.+MORE+ -5-Islam divides the world into “House of Islam” and “House of Warfare,” which means that a technical state of war exists between Islam and anything that is not Islamic.  A religion that claims to be peaceful, but is at war with everything else!+MORE+ -6-In Islamic nations, male members of the religion are first class citizens, female members of the religion are second class citizens, non-members are third class citizens, and Jews are fourth class citizens.+MORE+ -7-I am suspicious of any religion with holy texts statistically more anti-Semitic than Hitler’s MEIN KAMPF.+MORE+ -8-I am suspicious of any religion that legally defines the worth of female members as half that of male members, and which views non-members as sub-human.+MORE+ -9-Complex prayer rituals which must be done a minimum of five times a day, every day without exception, are not healthy for people, or for people living near people compulsively praying in military formation like that.  In my opinion. +MORE+ -10-I am suspicious of any religion which has no honorable surrender for its members, but rather demands that its members fight on in suicide against hopeless odds.+MORE+ -11-Initially, Islam was a peaceful force, with peaceful teachings; during that first decade it gained about 150 members through persuasion.  Then Islam changed character, with warlike teachings; during that second decade it gained about 30,000 members through looting, killing, and forced conversions.  Today, the warlike teachings over-rule the peaceful teachings. +MORE+ -12-Moderate Muslims are in the minority, have no influence, and are afraid to speak up.+MORE+ -13-Mentally-ill people are used as front line troops in the struggle against non-Islamic forces.+MORE+ -14-Muslims tend to blame other people for their own problems.+MORE+ -15-I am suspicious of any religion where cursing your enemies and chanting for their death is an accepted religious ceremony.+MORE+ -16-My intent is to expose Islam to Christians so that we can know what we are dealing with, not “attack” Islam.  However, some parts of Islam seem so nasty from the Western point-of-view, that to expose them, to write about them at all, seems like an attack.  Me?  Islamophobic?  Just because I am afraid of Islam, doesn’t mean that these slaves of their God aren’t trying to destroy my way of life, and possibly my life.+MORE+ -17-Muslims will NEVER accept the existence of Israel (or Spain for that matter, but Spain is on the back burner): 66% of Palestinians think their goal should be to start with a two-state solution but then use their Palestinian state as a launch pad to destroy Israel. +MORE+ -18-Sharia Law is a systematic encroachment of legal rulings to raise up the Muslim male, lock the Muslim female into hopeless submission, denigrate, devalue, and destroy anything non-Islamic, placing non-Muslims as third-class citizens, and Jews as fourth-class citizens until their eventual extinction.+MORE+ -19-The Islamic God hates Infidels and plots against us.  Actually, I think I am supposed to fear this.+MORE+ -20-Terrorism by Muslims is not a perversion of Islam, but a form of accepted (and actually required) Islamic behavior according to a straight reading of the Koran, Sharia Law, the Hadiths, and is approved by the highest Islamic authorities in the world; a frightening percentage of Muslims within Western nations believe that terrorism is appropriate under some conditions.+MORE+ -21-The Islamic vision of Paradise is unlimited awesome sex after death for male Muslims.  Can’t think of a better recruiting tool to funnel emotionally disturbed young men not into psychiatric hospitals but into front-line troops hoping to kill themselves for Islam and orgasmic eternity.+MORE+ -22-Islamic religious leaders, especially in the Middle East and Islamic majority countries like Pakistan, can whip up an angry mob of rioting Muslims whenever they please, and aim the mob at a specific target, due to the hair-trigger fever-pitch intolerant religious passion inside average Muslims (We are the slaves of our God, you are the scum of our God.) +MORE+ -23-It’s starting to look like only the few moderate Muslims can be trusted; and the fanatical Muslims may pretend to be friendly so well you won’t find out the truth until it’s too late.+MORE+ -24-The Muslim religion preaches disinformation as an article of faith; they are at war, so they must lie to the enemy about their troop movements, their subterfuges, and even what their religion is all about.+MORE+ -25-“Infidel” is the ugliest gutter insult one Muslim Arab can hurl at another person, roughly equivalent in emotional tone to the Western insult suggesting that a son has an inappropriate sexual relationship with his mother.+MORE+ -26-I fear for the freedom of Muslim women locked away behind a veil, and I fear for the safety of non-Muslim women not behind a veil because Muslim men, who already view Infidels as inferior scum, are more likely to see Western women as whores, fair-game to be raped. +MORE+ -27-The Islamic religion has not changed 2% in 1,100 years; and probably will not change 2% in the next 1,000 years.  Rather than adapting to civilized laws, unchangeable Islam forces civic laws to adapt to it by violence, intimidation, terrorism, mob rule, murder, warfare, extortion, assassination, and disinformation.+MORE+ -28-Yes, moderate Muslims can be productive members of Western society; but only if they are “Bad Muslims” according to their own religion, or if they are “deep-cover agents” playing a “long-range” or “sleeper” game for the eventual destruction of non-Islamic forces.+MORE+ -29-Hollywood Comedy Writers can write a TV show making fun of the Pope, making fun of the U.S. President Barack Obama, making fun of [our] God, making fun of [insert any name except the Islamic Prophet].  Free speech?  Nope.  Fear speech.  Muslims have us running away, scared of them.+MORE+ -30-Non-Muslims who like Islam don’t have a clue what the religion is all about.  Non-Muslims who attempt to expose Islam are often accused of Hate Speech by those in the West largely because Islam itself is vicious.  Accurately describing the way Islam functions seems to Western ears as unbelievable exaggeration motivated by hate.  Also, Muslims have an army of PR experts and disinformation specialists who collectively yowl in the media like wounded wolves because of an “improper” and “intolerable” and “insulting” attack upon their religion by unclean Infidels who contaminate Islam with words they, as inferiors, have no right to speak.+MORE+ -31-There are “Good Muslims” and “Bad Muslims” just like there are “Good Christians” and “Bad Christians.”  But what people in the West think of as a “Good Muslim,” the devout Muslims regard as “Bad Muslims.”+MORE+ -32-I’m all for “Freedom of Religion,” but I’m not sure Islam should be accorded the subsidized and protected status of a “religion” under American Law: isn’t that like us paying Communism to destroy Capitalism? +MORE+ -33-The only sure way into “paradise” for Muslim males is to die fighting enemies of Islam.+MORE+ -34-In my opinion, Christianity conquers through LOVE.  In my opinion, Islam conquers through FEAR.  If Machiavelli was right, we are doomed. +MORE+ -35-Earthly Islamic success seems more about loot, taking possessions from Infidels rather than self-actualization.+MORE+ -36-109 verses in the Koran advocate violence against Non-Muslims; 527 verses in the Koran are intolerant of Non-Muslims; of the 245 verses that are slightly “positive” on Non-Muslims every one of those has been abrogated, redacted, annulled, and do not apply to Islamic Law or influence Muslim behavior.+MORE+ -37-The only sure way a Muslim woman can get into Paradise is if her husband is happy with her at her moment of death.+MORE+ -38-Rather than assimilating into Western nations as productive members of society, on average Muslims tend to gather together into self-contained Islamic zones, or “no-go” zones, where Police & Fire & Social Services are afraid to enter because Non-Muslims are violently not welcome there.+MORE+ -39-Dangerous “holy” words lead to dangerous “unholy” behavior; if Moderate Muslims are ever to be taken seriously as moderates in the West, the 109 verses in the Koran which advocate violence against Non-Muslims should be abrogated, redacted and annulled.  Will this happen?  Never.  The moderates attempting this would be killed as Apostates if they even talked about it.+MORE+ -40-I am suspicious of a religion which demands total and absolute slavery from its members.+MORE+ -41-Islam does not respect civil law, but rather seeks to invade civil law, to become the civil law.  There is no “Render unto Caesar those things which are Caesar’s.” +MORE+ -42-Moderate Muslims essentially share the exact same ideology as violent Islamists, but prefer different tactics: a long-range strategic destruction of all American values, not a short-range bomb explosion to kill a few of us Infidels today.  +MORE+ -43-Since Islamic holy writings refer to Jews as apes who must all be killed before Judgment Day can occur, I think the following analogy is fair.  Fundamentalist Muslims are like barking sheepdogs that herd moderate Muslim sheep in the direction the radicals want.  Also, several Christian refugees from Iraq have mentioned to me in passing that Muslims in the Middle East treat their women like dogs.+MORE+ -44-Islamic hatred of non-Muslims is often simmering just below the surface, only needing a pretext to flash into violence.  We are unclean, detestable scum who are polluting the Earth, THEIR EARTH, with our miserable presence.+MORE+ -45-When the ideal male person of your religion marries a girl when she is six and has sex with her when she is nine, setting the standards for all other men, you know you are in the wrong religion, but it’s too late, the other members of your religion will kill you if you try to leave.+MORE+ -46-The word “LOVE” does not appear once in the Koran.  I don’t know about you, but that scares me.  A “religion” devoid of love!+MORE+ -47-Moderate Muslims scare me when they say that violence against non-Muslims is an incorrect interpretation of Islam, and not a part of the Koran: either they don’t know their own religion, or they are deep-cover agents for the subversive advance of Islam.+MORE+ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Note-2: My method is to first list my 47 reasons concerning Islam.  The initial list has no distracting links or supporting arguments.  Probably most readers will abandon this book before completing the initial list, and go on to some other form of entertainment.  (Yes, I am exactly that cynical.) [This Second Section does not yet exist in the online version of 47 ISLAM; It only functions in the eBook version of 47 ISLAM.]Secondly, I list my 47 reasons concerning Islam with internal links; in this way, any point that strikes the reader’s fancy can be followed up in the third section by a few of my own supporting arguments (which, admittedly, are not much different from what can be found in books or on the Internet), and additional material.  It has all been said and written before, many times.  But this is the START SECTION to drill down and explore any point that interests you, by following the links.  I am attempting to take advantage of hypertext and electronic books so that readers may explore Islam according to THEIR INCLINATIONS not mine.  All external links were functional at the time of publication; but the Internet is always changing; research done over a decade has given me much material which I have not included within this book because the links no longer function. Thirdly, I list my 47 reasons concerning Islam with supporting arguments, and with links to Internet sources.  And humor.  I’m trying to be entertaining, so I also mix it up.  If I can’t hold your interest you’ll go watch some video on demand.  Anyway, THIS PART IS THE BOOK, if you want to read linearly the way most books are written and read, from start to finish.  The purpose of links to Internet sources is to encourage you the reader to actually go to the article or web site and read further.  In this way, any point that interests you can be followed up in-depth quickly.  The points that bore you are easily avoided.   Mostly I let others argue my case, which you may follow with links to the online article or to Amazon where you may purchase the physical book.  I like to use other’s words to make my point whenever possible.  They are the experts.  I also like to mix things up; this is fair, since the Koran is all mixed up.  I am also wary of long reasoned rational arguments, because most readers are bored by them and just skip over them.  However, if you follow the links and read the full text of the articles you will get more rationality than you can handle.  Read the books in my bibliography, and you will be an Infidel Expert on Islam. If you want long, reasoned, rational arguments concerning Islam, supported by facts which are substantiated, FOLLOW THE LINKS!  READ THE BOOKS IN THE BIBLIOGRAPHY!  You’ll get deductive logic there.  I do not expect to persuade anyone—the writer/reader relationship is too flimsy.  But if you already sort of agree with me about the danger of Islam, this book should provide you with the tools you need to persuade your friends.  Friend-to-friend is how persuasion really takes place anyway.  And, sadly, persuasion usually happens for emotional reasons, not intellectual reasons. In addition, expect some error in this project.  I am not perfect.  As Eric Hoffer expressed, it is impossible to think in understatements.  Some of my declarations may go too far.  Some of my declarations may not go far enough, due to my own ignorance.  I am also sometimes guilty of over-simplification; not mentioning a minor clause if it is not relevant and/or would distract from my cherished sound bites.  For example: When I stated that Islam divides the world into HOUSE OF ISLAM and HOUSE OF WARFARE, I simplified; there is also a HOUSE OF TEMPORARY TRUCE, not much in use, where jihad against Infidels is not allowed.  Additionally, there is a HOUSE OF PEACE, what the entire world will supposedly become once Islam has conquered the entire world.  There may be other archaic Islamic “HOUSES” that I have not noticed.  If I try to bring all the “HOUSES” into the argument, I just confuse the essential duality.  The main fact is that according to Muslim jurists, the Non-Muslim living in territory not subject to Islam (and therefore considered a land of war) has no rights: his property and his life are legal prey to any Muslim.  The more I try to “fully explain” all the details, the more I just confuse most readers.  One flaw I find in many books on Islam is that exhaustively dealing with all the exceptions dulls the edge of the argument, and has the effect of boring rather than enlightening readers. I’m not the hero here; the writers I point to with links, and YOU, the readers who share this information with YOUR FRIENDS are the heroines and heroes.  These writers are the experts; they have done all the research and scholarship; some of them are hiding for their lives.  I’m only good for jumping up and down and pointing at the pros who really understand the threat of Islam to Western Civilization.  Even the best of my own writing on Islam is likely just paraphrased arguments from the professionals condensed down into sound-bites.  If I have a talent it is in cramming a thought into 140-characters. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A SHORT FORWARD: The word LOVE does not appear once in the Koran.  There is no love between Muslims and their God.  There is no love between Muslims and Non-Muslims (quite the opposite, actually).  And, according to the Koran, there is no love between Muslims and other Muslims (there are, however, many texts in the Koran and the Hadiths about how a wife may never refuse her husband sex—my favorite is the one about sex on a camel). Islam means to submit.  As the slaves of their God, the ones who submitted, Muslims regard themselves as the lords of the Earth, the true owners of the Earth.  Thus, according to twisted Islamic logic, looting and stealing from non-Muslims is, in their eyes, repossessing what is naturally theirs. Non-Muslims, or Infidels, are the lowest animal form of life, except for Jewish Infidels, which are even worse; when forced conversion to Islam is not practical, intolerance is encouraged (especially, if loot can be collected on a regular basis), murder of Infidels is condoned, and temporary peace treaties may be allowed with Infidels, provided the final goal is always kept in mind: the eventual destruction of anything Non-Islamic. Islam is 1/3rd religious force and 2/3rds political force.  Much of the Koran functions as a rule book for precisely how and when the detested inferior Infidel must be conquered, marginalized, humiliated, taxed, converted, and killed.  This is the Islamic Golden Rule: Kick the Infidel’s butt! The dangerous Muslims, in my view, are the ones who have studied Islam carefully and who take the teachings of Islam seriously.  The moderate Muslims are the ones who don’t know their own religion or who don’t take it seriously.  Christianity has an interpretive tradition where the peaceful teachings of Christ tend to over-rule the few violent Old Testament passages; in Islam the many violent hateful verses have rendered the few peaceful verses officially null and void. If you want a simplification, Islam is an ass-backwards Christianity.  Instead of the Christian impulse to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” it’s the Muslim desire to “Do unto others before they do unto you.” Islam divides the World into HOUSE OF ISLAM and HOUSE OF WARFARE.  War is a major theme of Islam; any action which expands Islam is a good action. Because Muslims are always praying, or they have just prayed, or they are just about to pray, or they are memorizing some holy words to be recited later, there is a religious spin on everything Muslims think, say or do.  Because Infidels are “the enemy” the Koran repeatedly forbids Muslims to be friends with Infidels.  It is perfectly acceptable, however, for Muslims to pretend to be friends with Infidels to gain some advantage. The religious leaders in Islam have an inordinate power and influence upon Muslims because the Koran has been randomized and redacted, so it is obscure and difficult to make sense of without expert study involving Islamic texts outside the Koran, particularly the Hadiths.  Essentially, all the peaceful passages of the Koran have been annulled, voided, reduced to empty words that have no influence upon Islamic Law or Muslim behavior, by chronologically-later passages calling for intolerance and violence toward Non-Muslims.  Also, Muslims are not allowed to critically examine the Koran, but must accept without question what their religious leaders tell them. Much emphasis is placed upon memorizing and reciting the Koran in the difficult Classical Arabic language in use from the Fourth to Ninth Centuries; so most Muslims are saying sounds they do not fully comprehend, over and over.  As a result of this, many Muslims don’t know their own religion, but depend on their religious leaders for instructions.  Orders given to Muslims from Islamic religious leaders in a Muslim majority Nation (“Death to America!  Death to Israel!  An accursed infidel on the other side of the world burnt a Koran, so boys after service go out and kill me some Infidels at the U.S. Embassy!”) are far different from orders given to Muslims living as minorities in Western Nations (“Keep your heads down until we get our numbers up, then Jihad!”).  What all Muslims do know is if they quit Islam they might be killed, possibly by a family member, and at a minimum, they would be forever cutting off all contact between themselves and anyone in their extended family; they would be banished, to live in exile, under a death sentence. The religious leaders in Islam have also redacted and rewritten history.  Islam denies its birth, and insists it has been around since the time of Adam and Eve.  Islam denies the Holocaust, and many other “Western facts.”  In Western Nations, Muslims tend to live together in “no go” zones where Non-Muslims are violently not welcome, and where an alternate Islamic history of the world is home-schooled to their children: Little tiny growing Islamic separate outposts for the future conversion of whatever Western nation they are in to a completely Islamic state. I have no clue what to do about Islam.  But these are my fears, and my reasons.  Occasionally, I make a suggestion, knowing full well it will never occur. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +Go-To-1+

#islam

[indieks]

Not So Randomly | Part 1/5

🌟 Pairing : Im Changkyun (I.M) x Reader

🌟 Genre : Fluff, Angst

🌟 Word count : 6.3k

🌟 Synopsis : Whenever you cross the path of Im Changkyun, that guy you hate and that hates you, it seems to be the worst day of your life. But, strangely enough, it also becomes the best and most accurate of moments you've ever had. So, the more you randomly end up stucked with each other, the more a question can arise : is it really chance that has something against you, or is it serendipity that drives you one towards the other?

Next Part

🌟 A/N : I know, summer is over, and we all have to go back to school or to work… that’s why I decided to post these series that start right during summer school break and continue at the uni! I’m still not sure in how many parts I’m going to divide it, I’ll see along the way and update it soon!

After my first post for BTS’ Suga, I also wanted to show that I will write for other groups and other wonderful people such as… I.M hehehehe 😏

Anyway, above all, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it! ♥

Disclaimer : any gifs or images used, even edited, are not mine and belong to their rightful owners!

***

  Summer. One word that made the kids at school go crazy while waiting for the last bell to ring, the teenagers and young adults go to the gym to tone their bodies or look for a job to spare money for some wild travel, and the parents worried for their wallets because of their need to book something far away from home so that they'll forget their workaholic life. But for you, it was one word that oddly gave you chills in spite of the heat it brought on.

It hadn't always been like that, no ; that gloomy feeling you had came when you turned fifteen. The same year you blew that additional candle, your parents asked for your help at work during the sunny season instead of sending you on vacation. They were selling food products, your mom holding a grocery shop from Mondays to Fridays, before joining your father on the weekends who was vending them at the marketplaces in the capital and its whereabouts. And when July came, they closed the shop to go from market to market, morning after morning and night after night, with you accompanying them occasionally. But most of the time, as they worked hard without a real break, you used to enjoy your holidays by going to your friends' rents, or to your grandparents' little but cozy houses further from your home.

You used to love the different markets you went to. You used to love their various scents, their joyful sellers, and the cheap or luxurious stuff they were full of. You used to lose yourself in the alleys of those big places to taste everything, to admire each pearl incrusted in the jewelries, each drawing on kitchen supplies and decorations, each sewing on leather bags and fabrics, before going back to your parents at noon.

However, that was before your fifteenth summer, when you had to wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning to set up the equipment and organize the presentation of the food, then shout the whole morning to catch the attention of clients, sometimes pack up things without messing up – which had happened to you numerous times because of nervousness –, and do it all over again at nighttime. Nevertheless, you still did the job without complaining, not denying how much effort it implied and how legit it was for your parents to ask for an additional pair of hands. But you couldn't say you were waiting for the end of the first half of the year to come with as much impatience as other students anymore.

This eighteenth summer should be different though. Your parents had decided to extend their commerce to Busan, and to take you with them. Even if the reason you were here in the first place wasn't the sea and sunbathing, but the gigantic covered market where you were going to sell products for the season, you were satisfied with the idea of being close to wild water, already dreaming of spending your afternoons on the beach before getting back to work, just to have the feeling of holidays you haven't really had for three years. But what made you even more excited, was that it was probably the last time you were ever going to follow this scheme, as next year college life and a whole new independence was waiting for you, without a doubt implying a new summer schedule with friends, far away from your parents and your responsibilities as a daughter.

A sweet vacation house had waited for you during 9 long months, as well as the amount of work that now tired you just by thinking of it, but you felt at ease while you were unpacking in your bedroom facing the sea, the thud of waves inciting you to take a step back and focus on the goods of being here. But as the first week went by, your alarm almost making your ear-drums bleed every time it rang loudly in the early and still dark morning, your positive mind and attitude were now clearly missing.

And if you had thought that having your days completely out of sync with the rest of people and not being able to properly visit Busan was sufficient to ruin your mood, as your sleepy-self consumed its vacant afternoon in bed instead of outside on the sand like you had pictured or maybe making some friends, it was until you met Im Changkyun. Until the second week you had been there, when your parents sent you to help that old lady who needed more hands at her stand than them who were still handling their own with skill.

You were nervous on your first day behind a stand with a stranger, despite the granny was lovely and was doing everything to make you comfortable, but being in an unknown city, an unknown market and without the pillar that were your parents, made you feel uneasy even more. Your hands were trembling as you were placing the bins containing the ingredients she sold and used for cooking delicious fried meals, and her popularity wasn't helping ; there wasn't a time when you could take a rest, people coming and going like crazy even in the first hours of the opening.

It was almost the end of your service when he showed up, or more precisely, when you accidentally bumped into him and dumped some sauce from your tub on his white tank top. The shock made him drop the carton he was carrying, full of porcelain kitchenware, some of them escaping their prison to explode on the floor, making a loud sound that drawn the attention of all the customers around. You had been walking too fast, coming from the small van parked behind the market where the grandma had food supplies she had pressed you to bring as you were almost running out of it.

"Fffffuuuuuck", the boy suddenly said, his voice low and deep but without a doubt laced with anger.

You were ashamed and panicked, the broken pieces of white plates laughing at you as you started to pick them up, quiet sorrys slipping out of your mouth.

"Don't you watch where you go?" he asked you and you finally stood up to look at him straight in the eye.

You didn't have the chance to meet pretty boys since you had arrived in town, it was not like they would come to the market in the morning if it meant giving up their sleep time, nor at night as they probably preferred street or fast food to your parent's fresh vegetables and kimchi. Except for this boy, who was confronting you right now, but sadly in this kind of situation that was making your cheeks burn of embarrassment and your heart fighting with your ribcage. Indeed, he had really nice looks, with the bangs of his light brown hair falling on his brows and eyes, an oval face with sharp eyes that killed you the instant you dared to greet him a timid smile, a long nose that seemed to have been carved in stone, and small lips that could create a smirk which you'll soon crave to smack him for.

"I'm really really sorry, I was in a hurry and I didn't see you, how can I-"

"Save it, let's go to my mother, you owe her your excuses" he cut you, grabbing the box again and pushing you with his wide shoulder when he passed you, silently inviting – or more like ordering – you to follow him.

With hands even more shaking than a few moments ago, you took your box and went to the granny's stand to excuse yourself, her gentle smile and reassuring comments about the incident soothing you instantly, but when you turned around and saw him darting his eyes at you while waiting, your blood froze in your body as your footsteps guided you to him without asking. The more you walked, the more the path seemed familiar to you, and you gasped when he stopped in front of a woman you recognized immediately. She was the beautiful lady at the stand right next to your parents', selling products she was cooking live as well as… kitchenware she probably had painted on herself. Beautiful kitchenware you just broke. You felt a new amount of shame piling upon the heap that already had bubbled inside of you when you captured the curious gazes of your parents seeing you coming back to them before 1 pm.

"Hey mom, I'm sorry but that girl bumped into me earlier and broke some of your plates" the boy stated while presenting the box to the lady who stopped what she was doing to take it calmly.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" your mother exclaimed, feeling even sorrier than you as you were supposed to ensure them a good image at the market by helping the granny, not creating a mess on the eighth day of your fresh arrival.

"It's okay! I have plenty of those, it can happen! Changkyun-ah, I hope you weren't rude to her, were you?" the woman said while smiling at you, signaling you to come close to her and you just did, your head hung low. "You didn't hurt yourself? Are you ok?" she asked as she was examining your hands.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm really sorry, can I do something-"

"It's nothing Y/N. I had plenty of accidents when I was your age, don't worry" she eased you, your hands still in her beautiful and delicate ones. "I saw how you work when you were helping your parents last week, you are really devoted so you must have been too concentrated and didn't see my son! Where did you tell me she was helping?"

"With Mrs. Ahn" your father answered and you straightened yourself to see her smile at you.

"Changkyun, I know how bored you are when you're with me so how about you help Mrs. Ahn too? I'm sure Y/N is overworked by herself, you could help instead of doing nothing at home."

"No no no that's okay really" you quickly interfered, feeling embarrassed as you heard his grunt of annoyance.

If you could avoid being a burden and making him angry at you for having ruined his summer in addition of his clothes, you were willing to work even harder to prove you didn't need his help.

"Mom, I have friends to meet and things to do, I'm on holidays! Why are you doing this to me seriously?" he protested and you finally looked over your shoulder to see him standing in a nonchalant pose, his hands deep in the pockets of his black jogging while the red stain of hot sauce on his top was drying and turning brown.

"I'm tired of you doing nothing, it's just for the mornings and sometimes at night, you'll have plenty of time to hang with your friends! I'm pretty sure there are heavy bins to carry or ingredients to cut and your hands will be of great help so stop nagging, you're 18 years-old now you should work a little!" she grumbled before smiling at you who were still frozen in your wish to disappear into the ground.

"At 18 years-old I… I should enjoy my life mom! Before working till I get old, you know? That's why I enjoy not doing anything for the time I have left!"

His dramatic tone almost made you chuckle but you couldn't allow yourself to, or else he would have murdered you the instant you'd been left alone without your parents to witness.

"Cut your nonsense son, or do you want me to tell your dad you're ok to work with him at the company till the end of holidays? And it's going to be a full-time job this time!"

Changkyun rolled his eyes back and sighed, finally giving up – not without mumbling a few bad words to himself in the process – and he gave you the exact look you feared he would have, the one that told you he would hate you for the rest of his life, the one that should have warned you that everything would only get worse after this first disastrous encounter.

   ***

  The next morning, you were still fighting with the tiredness in your eyes as the anxiety of meeting Changkyun again had kept you up all night. You were debating with your inner self about whether you should excuse yourself one last time, or remain silent and leave him alone, but you still hadn't come up with an answer when he arrived around 7 am, a grey hoodie on as well as a pair of destroyed jeans. He was really attractive, even with his morning face and small bags under his eyes, even when he shot you his deadly look, even when he messed up his hair by putting his hand in it in frustration.

"Hello ma'am, I'm here to help, I'm the son of Mrs. Im" he said with his deep voice, even deeper as he woke up not too long ago.

He showed off his cocky demeanor as he didn't even greet you and made his way behind the big table you were occupied at preparing, placing nicely the cooked and marinated products.

"My mother and yours are sympathizing right now, but that doesn't mean we're going to be friends, or whatever", he suddenly said to your attention and you gave him a quick look to discover that his eyes weren't even bothering to acknowledge you. "They want me to spend some time with you, your mom said that you're bored the rest of the day and have no friends here, but let me be clear : I have other things to do than to carry a burden around during my free time, most of all a clumsy girl. You ruined my summer y'know that?"

His gaze from the day before should have warned you, but you still were slapped violently by the hands of shock when he spat these words with spitefulness. You did bump into him and create a regretful situation, but you did not grow his mom's idea into her head… Did you?

"I'm here to help the old lady so that my mother leaves me alone, I'm not here for you, don't make up any ideas, got it?" he added with a monotone voice and you looked up at him as he was finally landing his deep brown eyes on you, but without a glimpse of life in them.

"Don't worry, I don't need your help. Sorry if my mom has bothered you", you simply answered, quickly going back to what you were doing to hide the mix of anger and embarrassment that was burning your reddening cheeks.

You had hoped that he would not pay any attention to you, not that he would make you pay, but his saltiness and rudeness were more on point than what any human being could imagine : starting from his first day next to you, he didn't miss any chance to make his presence unbearable. He pointed every wrong move you made and grumbled every time he did, pretending to be an expert as he had accompanied his mother more than once to this marketplace ; he greeted cheerfully clients when he was serving them but never failed to play the poker face with you, while the old lady did not hear or see any of this electric situation, simply happy that two lovely teenagers had volunteered to help ; he let you do most of the work, playing stupid games on his phone or pretending to be unpacking and cutting the ingredients to cook but taking never-ending time in doing so. You weren't the type to hate on people but Changkyun had made himself odious, so much that even his looks couldn't save him anymore, as the only sight of him made you angry. Quickly, your guilt disappeared in limbo like your positive mind had done a week ago, as you came to wish you had dumped every single bit of the sauce right on his head.

Like that, your relationship – if you could name the poor exchanges you had a relationship – became him nagging you and you nagging him, your discussions restricted by the vocabulary of disrespect and sarcasm, even if you still played the role of good kids once you returned to your mothers, pretending to leave to spend some good time together at the beach although you parted ways after plotting the story you would both tell your parents to be credible. If you were being honest, you enjoyed being alone and his company wasn't necessary to make you happy. He was just your perfect excuse to escape being with your parents during all your free time and wander in Busan's streets or maybe finally feel the sand of the beach or the cold of sea waves like you had been craving to do.

However, only a week had gone by and it had seemed like an eternity. You were already exhausted by this tensed situation you were plunged into each morning you stepped into the market, and instead of taking a walk once you were done with work like you had planned to, you still pursued your routine of going to sleep. What pissed you even more was that above all, you found him beautiful although he was being the most experienced asshole in the world with you. You found him beautiful when he looked annoyed – which was most of the time –, you found him beautiful when his brows furrowed, you found him beautiful when his tone went under the one of a vault, and you found him beautiful in each one of his outfits that were supposed to be picked up carelessly but suited him nonetheless – even with the ridiculous apron you had to wear. 

You choked yourself mentally every time you landed your eyes on him with too much attention, printing the image of his handsome profile with his sharp nose in your brain, and with even more vigor when you felt thrilled at the sight of the smile he never greeted you but that was pretty as hell. Hell, yes, because that guy was the devil itself, never failing to throw away his fake angel looks when there was only the two of you to spit venom and burn you with his bashful words.

Still, you couldn't be thankful enough for the shell you've been living in since you were little, not letting others reach your emotions easily and hurt you the way Changkyun could have done to a more sensible person. You were also proud of your ability to ignore him and to fight back, your fiery conversations not lasting long or almost making you laugh when you triumphed at making him shut up or annoyed. As tiring as it was for your nerves, you could have dealt quietly with it like you always had, if chance hadn't decided to go in your way and add oil to the fire pit Changkyun and you were battling in. 

Indeed, by the third week of July, you finally found the courage to furrow the streets of the city and to enjoy the little time you had to yourself instead of dying in your bedroom. But a few hours after you had parted ways with Changkyun, hoping not to see each other until the next morning, you ended up meeting each other by pure coincidence.

The first time, you were walking on the promenade with the marine wind in your hair, listening to your music and overall floating in your bubble, when you saw him arriving in front of you, surrounded by five other guys who were laughing cheerfully. He stopped and so you did, rolling your eyes at the same time and you immediately turned on your heels to flee the crime scene that would have occurred if he had opened his mouth in front of his friends, without a doubt feeling full of confidence to bash you in their presence. Weirdly though, your heart skipped a bit at the sight of his wet and sandy hair fighting against the breeze and of his naked torso, broad and outlined, telling you he had just dipped into the sea minutes ago. However, the absence of eyes in the back of your head prevented you from seeing how he only stared at you without breathing, at your hair shining under the sun, at your bare legs revealed by your high waisted shorts that married perfectly your curves, at your determined gait taking you far away from him ; he lost himself at your sight so bad that one of his friends had to nudge his side for him to stop ogling you any longer.

The second time, you had decided to escape the sea after seeing him the day before, so you randomly took some lovely streets, entering some boutiques and offering yourself some new clothes, simply loving your me-time. Until you came across his figure in a park you had chosen to enter into, the blossoming trees and the sight of a kiosk seducing your eyes and heart. 

Changkyun was sitting on a bench under a tree with the same friends you had quickly seen, eating some snacks as they were chatting and laughing, and this time your heart didn't miss a beat, no, it quickened its pace to the point you thought you would die. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt with black jeans and sneakers, and a white cap was covering his greyish-brown hair parting in two on his forehead. Again, his face looked as tired as yours must have been with your early morning activities, but he still was gorgeous, even more because he wasn't wearing that jaded mask he had with you. You hesitated to turn around and go somewhere else as he didn't see you yet, but by the time you were reaching a decision, he was already looking at you and even walking in your direction, his traits again as hard as ever.

"Are you following me or what?" he said in a hushed voice.

"What? I'm not!" you exclaimed but the apparent blush of your cheeks and your elusive pupils made him believe the contrary.

"Then what are you doing here? Busan is big you know, how come we meet today as well? Last week I didn't see you at all!"

"What's wrong Changkyun?" asked one of his friends behind his back, standing on his feet and revealing his tall and imposing figure, but his cute face when his lips curved into a smile helped you staying calm.

"Nothing hyung, she's the girl I'm working with and I think she's followed me here" Changkyun answered with a clearer tone, and for the first time he addressed you a smile, but it was full of slyness.

"I didn't, I'm just visiting, I stayed at home last week that's why you didn't see me, now if you don't mind I'll go" you answered, your irritation apparent in your voice as you passed him and quickly greeted his friends with a small bow before storming to the kiosk to hide yourself forever.

Your body was clearly expressing the effect the boy had on you when you saw him under other circumstances than the marketplace : your hands were wet, your heart crazy, and your legs were going to abandon their functions if you didn't sit down in the following seconds. Why the hell am I feeling like that? He's handsome, yes, but he's just a bugger!

"Why didn't you invite her to hang out with us? She's cute" asked the most muscular of the group, once you were out of sight.

"I don't like her, she's annoying and childish, and I have to work because of her clumsy ass remember" Changkyun explained, sitting down angrily on the bench before taking off his cap as he also had started to feel sweat forming on his forehead since he had seen you.

   ***

   You swore Busan couldn't have felt any tinier, because you didn't understand how in the world you could randomly meet your summer enemy everywhere you went to in the city. Today was a Thursday, the sun was up in the sky and you had wished to at least soak your feet in the blue sea, and maybe enjoy a cocktail in a café-bar which had drawn your attention a few days ago, with its youngster-surfer vibe and its simple but appetizing menu. The barman also wasn't unpleasant, but you hushed your girly silliness as you entered around 4 pm, your hair wet after you finally had taken a sea bath and tried to get your pale skin to brown a little.

You hadn't gone further than the market surroundings for a week after the two times you had met Changkyun, too scared to tempt the chance that seemed to be coming after you, and because he hadn't forgot the next morning to tell you rudely not to follow him, to what you had answered he was too full of himself and that he should fuck off. However, with the beautiful weather on this Thursday, without a cloud to be seen, you couldn't hide yourself anymore and decided not to care about how Changkyun would react if you came across each other again.

You should have known better, that you weren't lucky enough to defy chance, fate, or whatever had chosen you to play with. You were sipping on your fruity cocktail silently, sitting on the terrace that had a nice view of the promenade full of trees and flowers and of the beach only a few meters away, when you saw him through your sunglasses. You almost whined of annoyance, on the verge of going crazy about how he seemed to be like a ghost haunting you since last week. Once again, his hair was wet and curling a little, with its silver glints revealed by the sun, while he had switched his lazy outfit from the morning with a pair of jeans shorts and a white top under a grey cardigan.

He was with the same group of guys as the previous times, who were really loud and happy, and when he was about to make his way to the bar, Changkyun stopped in his tracks as he acknowledged your presence, his face falling into some unreadable expression, probably because he was as taken aback as you by the way you constantly met. To elude any suspicions, he quickly followed his mates who were cheerfully greeting the pretty barman – Kihyun if you had read his name well.

Obviously, a nice weather implied drinking outside with the seaside breeze, and you found yourself facing the table of the boys who finally noticed you, giving both Changkyun and you curious looks before one of them found a subject of conversation to distract themselves. During the first ten minutes, you felt his sharp eyes on you, with his chin a bit raised, giving him this bad boy aura he was always seeking in front of you and that made your heart weak despite all the hate you had for him. He suddenly got out of his vest, revealing his arms under the rolled sleeves of his T-Shirt, and then he placed the side of his face in the palm of his hand, his pupils never quitting your frame in the process. Again, cold sweat and chills : again, tachycardia ; again, numb legs.

Soon enough though, a bunch of girls passed by and greeted the band, staying up next to their table, and it finally grasped Changkyun's attention, freeing you from your unexplained sensations. You couldn't prevent your gaze to go back and forth between the sea and his group, hiding behind your sunglasses, to observe their affinities – maybe he has a girlfriend? Now that you came to think of it for the second time, even if you had been with one another for now almost three weeks, you knew nothing about each other. The first time was a few nights ago, when your father had asked you this question during dinner :

"So what about Changkyun? What kind of boy is he? How come you never talk about him! With all the time you spend together and the things you do, you must have a strong bond by now, don't you? It's true that we get pretty attached to our summer friends in no time!"

You had stayed quiet for a few seconds, building something to come up with as you had faced the truth : you didn't know a single thing about him, what he liked and what he didn't, his friends, his passions, his ambitions, and you surely didn't have his number nor any of his social networks' accounts. As you had looked through your memories quickly, all you could have pointed at was him listening to some rap music in his headphones early in the morning while you were installing, or him having a great appetite when it came to eat the meals the granny offered you, or him playing RPG games on his phone whenever he had the time, or him meeting these hyungs to hang out once you were done with your morning service, but that was all. In some way though, that was also enough to tell you you've been observing him with way too much attention, some attention he shouldn't get in the first place, and realizing it had tensed you. Changkyun and you were just enemies of circumstances, living up a lie in front of your parents that didn't take the time to look through it and never grabbed the chance to uncloak you just by asking you this exact question about each other's well-being or tastes.

"Hummm… I… We're not really talkative, you know, so… Yeah, he's nice to hang out with" you had mumbled before taking a long sip in your cup of water.

"He's such a charming boy" your mother had commented, and you had hidden your need to puke at how this adjective sounded awful in your ears. "I'm amazed at how everything goes well between you and for your last summer like this. I didn't think this would happen! He sure will be a good friend, that's beautiful sweetheart."

These outings are what never happened, mom, you had wanted to answer, but you had only looked down at your plate and wrongfully nodded in agreement, regretting to be lying to your parents since so long but too deep in it for you to get out. This whole comedy was a pure joke to you, something you didn't take too seriously to feel really guilty as the life or death of the boy mattered to you as much as one of a fly. At least, you convinced yourself so, somehow perfectly aware of the weird feelings you were getting because of him from time to time, when you really looked at him, or when, like at this exact moment, you met him by coincidence outside the market, discovering another Changkyun, a lively one, a smiling one, an apparently funny one as he made everyone at his table laugh with his derp faces or his comments you couldn't hear.

"Kkukkungiiiiiie, are you coming to the party next Friday?"

The voice of a girl shook you out of your thoughts, and you caught the annoyed eyes of Changkyun going straight in your direction, over the shoulder of the model-looking boy of the team who had his back facing you. You didn't hold back your quiet laugh to make him feel ridiculous. Kkukkungie? Seriously? The boy rolled his eyes, clearly pissed that you had heard that somehow cute but most of all silly nickname, and this time his angry look didn't stop you from smiling as you were making fun of him. Not too long after, the girls were gone, their laughs still tinting in your ear-drums like birds singing too happily, and that was when the pretty barman came to serve you the dessert you had ordered as your afternoon snack, a key lime pie. You suddenly felt shy when he engaged the conversation :

"Are you here alone for holidays?"

His voice was really calm and sweet, like the bright smile he gave you that almost closed his eyes in a cute way.

"Oh uh… No, I'm here to help my parents at the market" you answered, smiling back.

"Oh I see! I'm Kihyun by the way, you are?"

"Y/N."

He offered you his hand and you shook it gently, before taking it back to your lap.

"So where are you from?" he asked again.

"Seoul! But I really love it here" you admitted, surprising yourself as you let the words roll through your tongue instead of cutting off the discussion.

Changkyun was observing you from behind, his brows furrowed as he saw one of his hyungs talking to you, but even more when the latter turned back and shouted :

"Ya guys! She's new here and all alone and you didn't even invite her at your table! What kind of gentlemen are you seriously, you're making me feel ashamed!"

Once again, you wanted to kill yourself for dragging people involuntarily into your situation and forcing them to hang out with you, first Changkyun at the old lady's stand, now all of his friends that were staring at you. You were shaking your head from left to right to express that everything was really fine but it was too late :

"Ohhhh but she's the girl Changkyun is working with! Sure, come and join us!" one of them exclaimed as if he hadn't seen you before when he clearly had, making it even more awkward.

However, when Kihyun nodded his head in their direction while smiling at you, you realized you had no other choice but to do as you were told, being polite and appreciative when all you wanted to do was to run away from this place and quickly. Remind me why did I go near the sea again?

"Hi, I'm Jooheon" said the one who had just invited you and when he smiled, two deep dimples appeared on his chubby cheeks, making him a ray of sun in an instant. His hair was chocolate brown and slicked back on his head, and he had even sharper eyes than Changkyun.

You sat down next to him where an empty spot seemed to have waited for you, and introduced yourself back, waiting for the others to do the same. On your left was sitting the model-boy, with his dark hair and his tall but slim frame, whose name you now knew was Hyungwon ; Shownu, the tall and massive boy who had interfered the last time, had short brown hair and tanned skin ; the one named Hoseok had his hair bleached and prominent muscles ; and finally, Minhyuk, who also had brown hair, smiled at you and seemed to be the most talkative and excited of the band as his introduction was the longest. Overall, they were guys with enjoyable looks and fashion styles, but to your great despair, not even one beat the handsomeness of Changkyun in your eyes. Quickly, Minhyuk made you talk and you did your best to forget the presence of your market partner, almost enjoying how the whole situation was annoying him as you saw his leg jump up and down since you sat at his table.

"Why didn't you introduce us to her earlier Changkyun-ah? She's really fun" Jooheon said as if he was outraged and you smiled in victory, defying the designated one who was, for the first time, avoiding your gaze as his eyes were drifting to the sea, his brows knotting and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"I already told you hyung, she's not my friend so there's no reason for you to be" he hummed between gritted teeth, his head still turned away from you.

"You don't get to decide who we hang out with you brat!" protested Minhyuk before he slapped his shoulder. "Hey Y/N, why don't you come to my pool party next Friday?"

You weren't against having a little fun, and you didn't need to stay with them all night ; maybe you would meet some other really nice people and could avoid Changkyun. After all, you deserved at least one party for this summer, and maybe it was the only opportunity you'll ever have before going back to work and hiding yourself in Busan’s streets with the hopes of not getting surprised by Changkyun’s ghost-like appearances like you had another time today. The boy had finally turned his body towards you and was looking at you with daring eyes, but you couldn't care even less. He had been the one who had started to build your hateful relationship even if his anger had been legit at the beginning, but you were not going to give him some satisfaction by avoiding having some fun.

"Yeah, sure, thank you! I've been dying to go out!"

The boys whooped in satisfaction while the jaw of Changkyun dropped, showing he wasn't expecting your boldness, but anyway, he still had to deal with it.

    To be continued...

 A/N : I’ll try to update Part 2 in a few days! Thank you again for reading... Any comments good or bad are welcomed as usual!

#monsta x #monsta x scenarios #monsta x scenario #i.m #monsta x i.m #monsta x i.m scenarios #i.m monsta x #i.m scenarios #i.m scenario #changkyun #changkyun scenarios #changkyun scenario #im changkyun #im changkyun scenarios #im changkyun scenario #lim changkyun #shownu #wonho #kihyun #minhyuk #hyungwon #jooheon #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine

[mrevaunit42]

Nova vs 19: Friday

Hello everyone, Mr.E here with the newest nova chapter and the start of the new arc which is exciting yay! I hope everyone had an amazing week and has a great weekend. 

So the title? what’s it mean? easy. that whole last arc? was one day, Thursday. yep it all happened in a matter of hours. Friday has come and with it, a chance to play with your exceptions. So i took a chance with this chapter and i promise none of you could’ve seen this coming but I still hope you enjoy it. 

for anyone stumbling upon this, here is the link to the story on ff. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11773524/1/Nova-Butterfly-vs-the-Forces-of-Adolescence 

so have an amazing day, a great weekend and please let me know what you think of this chapter. I took a chance and I want to know if you all want me to keep trying this out.

notification squad @hipster-rapunzel @artgirllullaby @isolated-frequencies @thefandombytes

“Goooood morning Echo Creek! It is a beautiful Friday morning. The weather looks to be a bright, sunny, an overall fantastic day! Not at all a symbolic representation of a stark contrast between human perception of reality and the truth of an uncaring, constantly shifting universe that cares not for humanity in the slightest! Today is throwback Friday because I absolutely refuse to work on Thursdays, that's Steve's job!”

The sunshine was indeed warm and gentle despite the hardships of the previous day.

The heavy weight remained however. The sickening, sinking feeling of helplessness mixed in with a churning guilty sensation that gnawed at the stomach hungrily.

A feeling that bubbled anxiously no matter how many times he tried to wish it away.

He gave a loud yawn, stretching his tired body as far as he could.

He felt sluggish despite getting the proper hours of sleep.

He let out a sigh, ruffling his black hair playfully. It didn't matter if it was messy, he'd just fix up in a minute.

He groggily rose from his simple framed bed, lurching across the well kept floor in his quest towards bathroom.

His eye caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but face himself, raking his hands through his hair a second time as gray irises stared back at him.

“Okay” Roman told himself, giving the reflection an encouraging nod “You got this. Today's the quiz. You study long and hard for this! And afterward you can check up on Nova and Connor.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief, grateful that everyone was safe and sound more or less.

True he didn't talk much to the magical princess given that her reaction of choice towards his appearance was to freeze up but he still consider her a friend. Connor of course was his go to for help whenever he needed assistance with tests and understanding concepts that seemed to elude him (which was all of them). Luckily the young inventor was more than willing to help out and had the patience to see him through any problem he was suffering from.

Roman shifted uneasily.

He wish he could've been more help yesterday when he discovered Nova had gone missing. He wish he could've joined in the search but he was just a human and he didn't have the experience Connor possessed on the infinite complex subject of magic.

Roman shook his head, trying to slip off the chains of worry and regret and focus on the ever approaching math quiz he had this morning.

“I got this” He told himself, grinning with a rare confidence.

Roman jumped as, without warning, the fire alarm went off, its shriek echoing loudly throughout the household.

Roman sprung into the hall, racing towards the kitchen as fast as he could.

Roman bound into the room only to find his father already putting out the flaming toaster with a fire extinguisher.

Oskar wiped the sweat from his brown before noticing he wasn't the only one in the room.

“Hey” Oskar greeted Roman, carefully placing the metal canister on the floor “I didn't wake you, did I?”

Roman shook his head “No, I was already awake dad. Toaster on the fritz again?”

Oskar gave an exhausted nod “Yeah, I guess so....”

“Maybe we should ask Connor to fix it or his parents?”

“nah, I'll figure it out. No need to bother them about this little thing.”

Outwardly, Roman agreed with his father decision but internally he was already making mental notes to ask Connor for a hand in fixing the malfunctioning device. He knew his father hated asking for help given how much everyone gave to make his dream of being a music teaher come true but being a single parent wasn't easy and Roman was determined to help his adoptive father any way he could.

He really needed to pass today's test....

“How about we eat cereal, sound good pops?”

Oskar gave toothy grin “sounds great Roman”

and so father and son sat down, enjoying a meal together before their day began.

Roman quietly opened his locker, going over the various answers scattered about in his brain for the test he was about to take in the next 5 minutes.

“If I carry the x.....then pi is divided by...wait....you can't divide pi....wait! Pi isn't in this problem! UUUUUUGH”

Roman knocked his head against his locker door.

“Well, well, well if it isn't Stupman”

Roman rolled his eyes in annoyance as he turned to find Lars Jr. hovering next to him.

Lars Vanderdud Jr. was the polar opposite of his father in appearance. While Lars had been massive (in all the wrong ways) Lars Jr. was lean and muscular. His nose was pointed rather than bulbous like his father's though they both shared the same lack of hair and mean spirited grin. Despite some key differences Lars Jr. acted exactly as his father did before him.

Which did not bode well for the 15 year old greaser.

“Still wearing the same leather jacket Stupman?” Lars Jr. smirked.

Roman rose an eyebrow “yeah, classics never die unlike your uninspired look of gray shirt, torn pants. Kinda outdated even when they were in style.

“Psst, says the orphan”

Lars Jr. smirked as a glint of anger flashed through Roman's gray eyes.

“Come on orphan, hit me.”

Roman clutched his fist tightly, anger welling deep inside. The syrupy urge to deck the smug jerk in his face was nearly overwhelming. How he wanted to just feel Lars's cheek under his fist just once. Just one beautiful, self righteous time.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, the anger drained though not completely gone.

Lars wanted to hit him. He wanted to drag him down to his level. To prove his point that Roman wasn't any better than anyone with their two real parents.

Roman couldn't give him the satisfaction no matter how tempting it was. He needed to prove there was nothing wrong with adoptive children, nothing wrong with Oskar's choice to raise him as his own. He couldn't make his dad look bad.

Nothing was worth that price.

“Leave him alone baldy”

Lars and Roman turned to find Missy Lynn Thomas herself standing there and throwing the deepest glare she could muster at Lars's comments.

“Ooooo need a 14 year old to fight your battles for you stupman?”

“Nah” Roman shrugged coolly “She's here to see if you're worth my time. Missy?”

“Pffft” Missy could barely hold in her laughter “not even close. Get lost Lars. Roman might be too much of a gentleman to punch you but I won't even think twice.”

Lars Jr. threw an unconvincing smug smile their way “Whatever, this was getting boring anyway”

Missy and Roman didn't relax until Lars had rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

“....you okay?” Missy asked gently.

“I'm fine” Roman replied in his usual calm voice “It's just Lars.”

“It does hurt you know”

“I know but I can't let him know that or it'll get worse.”

“and you can't fight him” Missy added in helpfully “it'll look bad on Oskar.”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming by”

Missy shrugged “I guess Nova's rubbing off on me. She's heroine after all.”

Roman chuckled “True but there'd be more silence.”

Missy sniffled a giggle “Well yeah”

“Maybe she'll realize I'm not that scary and that she's overthinking her crush on me”

Missy shrugged casually “One day at a time huh?”

a thick silence followed

“I'm glad they're okay” Missy spoke after a moment “I was so worried....”

“me too” Roman admitted “I feel so useless.....I couldn't help them at all.”

“Hey, at least you weren't used to trick them...” Missy shifted guiltily “I am so embarrassed about that.”

“What? All you did was act out your genuine feelings towards him.”

“Yeah” Missy's voice was full of unchecked sass “But not by my choice. I can embarrass myself on my own thanks! I don't need some dark creepy magic to flirt with Connor....well at least I hope....”

“Are you going to see them today?” Roman asked hopefully. As much as he wanted to stop by the Butterfly Diaz home, he felt nervous about doing so alone given that he didn't usually interact with Nova and he couldn't remember the last time he had ever actually been present in the household.

“I want to” Missy revealed “but my mom warned me that might not be the best idea. Everyone is on edge and security is tight. I can only imagine how many people are hovering over Nova right now.”

Roman bit his lip thoughtfully “isn't that...?”

Missy nodded in agreement “That isn't the best idea. Such a large force is ideal and meant to be reassuring but I have a feeling Nova is going to take it the wrong way. Probably beat herself up about what happened....”

“Sounds right” Roman let out a tired sigh “She really shouldn't be so hard on herself”

“She really shouldn't” Missy concurred “but it's Nova. No matter how much we tell her, she needs to realize it herself and it won't help coming from me....”

“Hey” Roman carefully placed a hand on Missy's shoulder “you two are friends, you know that.”

“yeah, you're right. Competitive rivals but friends still....maybe we can visit her tomorrow”

“I think that be a good idea. Let's see what we can do and you can check up on Connor.”

It was amazing playful jab turned the rational, calm teen into a spurting, bright red mess

“Well yeah he's my friend and I'm worried about him and and...ugh, shut up Roman”

Roman chuckled softly, trying to hide behind his hand as Missy gently smacked his arm.

“haha I find it funny how Connor of all people is the only one that could make you lose your cool. Ever going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Missy rose to an uncharacteristic pitch “there's nothing to tell! Nope not at...ugh I'm doing it again, aren't I?”

  “Just a little”

Missy let out an exasperated sigh “I don't know what comes over me every time the mere idea of telling Connor I like him. Seriously, he's a boy and I'm a girl. I like him. What's so hard about that? But just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine, butterflies in my stomach and I just...freeze. Me? FREEZE! Ugh”

“I guess you have more in common with Nova than you thought.”

Missy eyed the 15 year old greaser carefully “Humans may vary but love is painfully simple huh? And how about you?” She leaned against the locker in accusing manner “What about Nova? How do you feel about the magical princess?”

Roman shrugged calmly “I would need to get to know her more. It wouldn't be a good idea to just rush something if I'm not sure how I feel. She is cute but aside from that, I don't know much about her. Maybe one day she can finally talk to me and I'll find out.”

Missy scoffed jokingly “Well don't hold your breath.”

The bell rang, interrupting the conversation and reminding the two that school beckons.

“Good luck” Missy waved as she took her left.

“Thanks” Roman muttered quietly in response “thanks.....”

The classroom was deathly silent. You could hear the pound of the hearts, their sweaty, nervous clammy hands gripping their pencils tightly as if seeking comfort.

Roman could feel his confidence wane. Each time he tried to remember what he studied the night, the only thing that came were strange, unfamiliar equations or worse, nothing. Just a blank thought.

Roman tried to calm himself but as Miss Skullnick slid the paper and scantron onto his desk, the scraping of paper against his wooden desk impossibly loud in his ears. his despair grew and his worry intensified.

“You may begin brats”

Roman stared at the paper, trying to will his brain to function, to will the answers to appear and reassure him he was going to be fine.

They didn't.

Roman trudged towards the school entrance, his failure biting at him in the back of his mind.

He answered the quiz but he spent far too long on the first 3 or so questions and by the time he realized he was about to run out of time, he simply jolted down the following answers after hastily and recklessly attempting to solve the problem.

There was no way he passed this test.

Roman sighed. He tried so hard. He did everything he could to ensure he passed his test, even managing to suppress his concern for Nova but in the end, it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

“Hey kiddo”

Roman glanced upwards to find his father waiting for him by the entrance, his hair a mess, his clothes wrinkled.

“hey dad.”

“How did the test go?”

Roman's face was smooth, cool, calm but inside the failure still stung harshly.

“I see.”

Roman hated how his father could see past his facade. he noticed the change in tone. The cold distant and controlled voice his father used. Not mad, just disappointed. Roman was always a di...

“that's okay!”

Roman blinked in surprise as Oskar gave him a fangy grin, patting his shoulder reassuringly

“You had a lot on your mind. I'm sure Skull will keep that in mind. Try as she might, she's a big softie inside.”

“But dad, I'm no good at...”

“Who cares?” Oskar shrugged nonchalantly “I was way worse at school than you were. Heck, half the time I didn't even show up! Don't worry kiddo, we'll try harder next time? Especially now that we know Mr. Diaz and his kid are okay. I KNOW!”

Roman glanced up to his excited father.

Oskar leaned in a conspiratorial whisper “We'll go see a movie today. Me and you, sound fun?”

Roman's smile was slow but he couldn't help but grin back at his father.

“Yeah dad....that sounds great.”

#nova vs #My story

[automatismoateo]

Why I became an atheist (Ex-muslim) via /r/atheism

Submitted July 03, 2017 at 04:23PM by bob951 (Via reddit http://ift.tt/2tJ7jDN) Why I became an atheist (Ex-muslim)

       I am from Lebanon, I was born and raised as Muslim, as a young boy my father started taking me to our local mosque and taught me how to pray to Allah, here when the indoctrination started. My parents along with the Imam, told me many things, that just did not add up, that women who show skin are condemned to hell, I asked myself as a 5-year-old “These women are not harming anyone, then why would Allah punish them?” I also asked my parents: “Who created God?” They replied: “You are not allowed to ask this question, it will make step towards hell.” Imams also taught me about hell, it really scared me, and I got nightmares because of it, the concept of hell in Islam as described by most Imams would make an awesome horror movie. Ever since I was little boy, I am an individualist, I do not like people telling what to do and intervening in my personal freedom, I still am now.

       However, my parents are open towards unorthodox views like they reject the Hijab, and don’t think that apostates should be executed, or adulterers/fornicators should be stoned, and think that honor killings are criminal. But unfortunately, they support blasphemy laws, and think that homosexuality is a mental illness and should be rejected by society.

       On one hand, one of my maternal cousins is a member of The Committee of Islamic Scholars, this committee is socially authoritarian and want the government to walk all over other people’s personal & civil liberties in the name of Islam, morality, and traditionalism. A few months ago, when the Supreme Jurisdiction Council declared that homosexuality is fine, and that the state should not intervene with what people do in the bedroom, the committee got pissed off with the Council’s decision. The rest are pro-Hamas and pro-Muslim brotherhood.

       On the other hand, my paternal uncle’s wife works for Dar Al Fatwa, a government institution run by The Grand Mufti of the Sunnis, the institution has political influence on government policy and is backed by Saudi Arabia, and the committee mentioned above.4 years ago, liberals, leftists, secularists, and feminists demanded the Lebanese Parliament and Government to legalize optional secular civil marriage, the Mufti scared the politicians by issuing a fatwa “Any Muslim politician , from the government, Parliament, or member Jurisdiction Council who supports secular marriage even if optional is an apostate. This made the politicians reject the demand, including Christian and Druze members. The rest of my father’s side is collectivist, tribalist, extremely traditional, they hate it when on their members marries someone from another religious sect, like Shia, Druze, Christian, or Alawite.

       Lebanon, had suffered a devastating 15-year civil war from 1975-1990, it has damaged us socially, economically, and politically, and our Military, and gave rise to the terrorist organization Hezbollah backed by Iran. Lebanon is now divided into 4 major religious sects; the Sunnis, Shias, Maronite Christians, and Druze. Each of the 4 groups have politicians in the state, all 4 hate each other, and the politicians take advantage of the status quo to keep us fighting over ridiculous things.

       I was not a very religious person, but at the age of 14 almost 15, my brother lost his job in UAE, and came to Lebanon in the summer, he used to very devout and dragged me to pray 5 times a day, I slowly started becoming more religious, by the end of the summer I devoted myself to Allah, suppressed my sexual urges but because of my raging testosterone levels, I still watched porn, masturbated to girls, and had sex with them, but I felt a sheer amount of guilt, and regret, I used to lecture my closest friends that they must not drink alcohol, have premarital sex, even shake hands with female, they got annoyed by me, and started hanging out less with me. But at the same time, I wasn’t feeling that I am being myself, I was repressive, consumed by those bad ideas. In geography class, we were discussing the universe, and the teacher said that the milky way galaxy has an estimated 160 billion planets , she also added that there are hundreds of billions of galaxies in the universe, I came to the conclusion that we may not be alone, and the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations is highly probable, I asked my Imam “ Our universe has hundreds of billions of galaxies, and every galaxy has hundreds of billions of planets, so according to the laws in probability in Math, the we could not be alone in the universe, Do you think extraterrestrials could exist?” His answer was : “No, that is a bunch of nonsense regurgitated by the evil Americans.”

       At the age of 16 my devotion started slowly diminishing, but since I love The Simpsons, I started watching it more, through it I came upon Family Guy, and then South Park. I fell in love with the other two series, they were more than just comedy and satire, they were very well convincing. These shows make fun of everything, through this show I started being exposed to new ideas, even if I didn’t like them, also did offend me, I dismissed many of their arguments, but they did shed some light. But I couldn’t resist I still watch them more. One of the Episodes that made fun of atheism and evolution, when they explained evolution it made a lot of sense.

       At the age of 17, I started losing my faith, I isolated myself in my room for a few days and asked myself these simple questions, “The Christian thinks I am wrong, so does Shia, and many others and I think Sunni Islam is the right one, what if they are right, what if the atheists are right, what if I am wrong?” “If god is omniscient, why did he create satan, he knows certain people are going to heaven and other are going to hell, then why pray?” “In the Koran, it written that God created life and death to test you, and judge you. But If life is limited, and the punishment and reward are eternal then why did god created us?” “Why is religion geographical?” “Why is consensual sex, masturbation wrong if they are harmless?” “What is wrong with homosexuality?” I remember as a young kid, that I was taught humans were the first creatures to inhabit the earth, but I discovered that there were dinosaurs and ruled the earth for hundreds of millions of years, and got extinct 65 million years. And the question from my childhood which was silenced “If everything needs a creator, and god created us then who created god? And who created god’s god?”. I decided that religion is bunch of bullshit created to control minds.

       But I still needed to do further research, I started reading more about the universe, and evolution, watching more documentaries. I stumbled upon great thinkers Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Bill Maher, Stephen Hawking, and also atheist Youtubers like thunderf00t, TJ Kirk, Seth Andrews, DarkMatter2525, and. I found their arguments extremely convincing, encourage critical thinking, challenge adopted ideas, I did listen to religious clerics and had conversations with Pastors, Imams, Mullahs, Ayatollah I even watched Zakir Naik’s lectures, they seemed ridiculous, and unscientific.

       I decided to read the Koran and The Bible critically, and I saw that these books are filled with unscientific claims, unethical, misogynistic, and homophobic bullshit. And above all else it contradicts itself. I also made an analogy, that Muslim majority and Islamic countries and dystopian and extremely backwards, and wherever there is Islam there is dysfunction. And look what is happening now in European countries they are now suffering from a security crisis.

       From the 1920s to the 70s, Arabs, Persians, Afghanis, used to be much more progressive they got influenced by western culture and Attaturk who secularized Turkey, the hijab was rare only older women wore it, Arab women used to wear bikinis and short skirts sexual harassment & rape were almost nonexistent unlike now in Egypt. Saudi Clerics nagged former Arab & Persian leaders to control what women should wear, but Arabs ignored them. Arabs used to go to European countries to earn their degrees. After overthrowing monarchies and Fedualists, the middle class was established because of free market capitalism, and they ruled the Arab world holding progressive and liberal values. But soon after KSA started getting rich with oil Arabs started going to work there coming back with regressive and reactionary values about the world since the 80s. In addition, the Muslim brotherhood gained more influence. Making Arab culture become one of the most backwards in the world. Plus, the Islamic revolution of Iran also affected us negatively which gave birth to Hezbollah triggered by Zionism, and western neo-conservatism.

       And what really pisses me off is the western regressive left, feminists, and social justice warriors defending Islam and telling others that “The hijab is liberating”, If someone mentions that atrocities against women and gays in the name of Islam or Islamic countries they will reply “But it’s their culture”, and what is worse is that in the women’s march almost everyone was cheering for Linda Sarsour who wants to bring Shariah (Islamic Law) to America which is anti-women, and homophobic. By the way Sarsour means cockroach in Arabic.

       I now I am an atheist, a de-facto kind, I don’t agree with religion or the hijab but it can be helpful to the unfortunate providing some escape fantasy, and hijab can sometimes protect from the scorching sun. PS: Excuse my English, it isn’t my first language. Thanks, in Advance.

#reddit

[pupfresh]

Pup and Coming: Secret Tape

Secret Tape Genre: Emo/Power Pop Hometown: Adelaide, South Australia

What’s your hometown?

D: I guess I originally started writing Secret Tape songs back in Whyalla, South Australia; but I haven’t been there for a long time. We’re very much based in Adelaide these days.

J: I’m from Port Pirie, South Australia.

How did you become a band?

D: It was late 2013, I’d recently started getting into Emo music; listening to a lot of Weezer, Sunny Day Real Estate, American Football, the basics. I really enjoyed it, and wanted to start playing that style of music. I wrote and recorded a few little demos here and there, but it was all me. Shortly after, I’d moved to Adelaide, I enlisted my cousin, Peter, to play bass for us. From here we recorded a few more demos and wrote some more songs, and jammed with several different line-ups, but nothing ever really came out of it; the project was not, “put to bed”, but definitely on hold. It wasn’t until 2016 where we played a surprise show. I was billed for an acoustic set, but we all just came out and played a few tracks from our first album.

J: When Secret Tape was presented the opportunity to play their first show, I offered to fill in on lead guitar for Declan, and I never left the band.

Where did the band name originate from?

D: I love being asked this! In the old Tony Hawk video games, there was a challenge in every level where you had to find the “Secret Tape”, it was just a VHS tape hidden on the map that you had to go and find to unlock other parts of the game.

Where do you guys draw your influences for your music?

D: I personally listen to a lot of Hip Hop, though I wouldn’t call it an influence as such, maybe lyrically speaking. Just all the classic Emo bands and the huge Emo Revival thing happening right now! I would most certainly cite Empire! Empire! (I Was A Lonely Estate), as an influence, a lot of bands blurring the line between Punk and Emo is probably where you’ll hear direct influence, bands like Pup, Superheaven, Turnover, and Adventures. But my biggest influence overall for Secret Tape would have to be Weezer’s Pinkerton. That changed my life, and I probably wouldn’t have started Secret Tape if I hadn’t heard it.

J: Anything emotive, Weezer, The Antlers, Matt Corby, Deicide, Caspian, Tony Hawk, Jimmy Eat World, bands with teased hair and side fringes are preferred.

What sets you apart from all the other bands out there?

D: I think it’s very hard to pick a tone for us. Sometimes we’re very serious and emotional, other times we write with a very tongue-in-cheek, almost sarcastic style of humour, and the rest of the time we write about nothing at all! Some might say we’re not sure what we want to be, but really I think we’re just doing “us”. Sometimes we’re loud, and sometimes we’re quiet, we’re happy, we’re sad; we’re taking the piss out of taking anything seriously.

J: The drive to deliver quality music that has the contrast of being upbeat and exciting, and music that also has a very emotional side. Life isn't always fun and happy, and it isn't always depressing either, I think our music is a reflection of that idea; whereas a lot of bands have a tendency to stick to just one emotion in their music. I feel that contrast keeps it a lot more real than a lot of other bands out there.

What’s your favorite part about being in a band?

D: It’s hugely satisfying; writing a song and hearing it back once you’ve spent hours recording and mixing it. Nothing can beat that (until of course you play it repeat until you hate it). I love hearing my creations come to life. Or better yet, performing it live and getting that instant response from the audience.

J: There's no better feeling in the world than playing really well written music, and feeling every vibration of the music radiate and flow through your entire body, creating the feeling of being one entity with your bandmates and the music.

What are the bands future plans?

D: We want to be booked solidly for the rest of the year, just non-stop shows. We’re taking a little bit of time out to shoot some more music videos in support of the album, but our main thing right now will be performing live as much as possible and building really strong connections with other great Australian, and international bands. We want to work as hard as possible for as long as we can.

J: To share our music with as many people as possible, through playing shows, music videos, and making more records.

What was your favorite cartoon growing up? 

D: On the great divide that was Cartoon Network vs Nickelodeon, I was very much on the CN/Adult Swim side of things. I’d have to say Ed, Edd and Eddy, with Aqua Teen Hunger Force at a close second, but there were millions I could list you.

J: The Simpsons

Favorite pizza topping?

D: Two thirds of Secret Tape are vegetarian, so I’m definitely a Margarita guy.

J: Vegetarian all the way!

If you could have one superpower what would it be?

D: Intelligence, nothing can beat that.

J: I already have superpowers…

What is the first album you ever bought?

D: It was either NOFX’s The Decline, or, embarrassingly, Slayer’s World Painted Blood. I don’t remember exactly, but it must’ve been one of those two.

J: Metallica’s And Justice For All…

What’s the last show you watched on Netflix?

D: I don’t really get a lot of time to watch TV shows, but whenever I do, I usually enjoy a bit of Peep Show! I’ve seen every episode multiple times, and it just never gets old for me.

J: Sons of Anarchy

Anything else you’d like to say?

D: I’d just like to give a huge thank you to William at Pup Fresh for this interview, and that Secret Tape’s debut LP is available globally on April 20th, on Bandcamp, Spotify, iTunes, and all other streaming services, and that you can catch Secret Tape live in concert on the 21st of April at The Crown and Sceptre Hotel in Adelaide, and at Horse Bazaar on April 2nd in Melbourne.

J: Thanks for checking out our band, if you dig it, share the love, and don't do anything I wouldn't enjoy! And remember that our new single Okay Again comes out on March 10th!

#secret tape #pup and coming #music #interview

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se3, ep10 (part 2)

-Yuki’s stages of growth:

I love yuki! I used to say that yuki’s growth is the most clear & steady going, it was done with much care & involving the audience in every step. However, I now think there is sth missing from his last stage of growth. Yuki’s growth is divided into 3 stages:

Realizing his weakness ( Mom’s tohru stage), in se01 & most of se02, took way longer than it should, imo. But the ideas were well-written, the concept of needing a maternal figure is original & we connected with him a lot.

Searching for himself ( Kakeru stage & friendship) in se02, took appropriate time. well-written, gradual, clear & fulfilling.

Becoming his own person ( Machi) & (kyo: altho this new dynamics just started) in se03. very little time, hasty development.

I’ve talked abt stage 1 & 2 enough. I loved the ideas, the struggle & the writing. I had few complains about how excessive the tohru-stage was & how it could’ve been reduced to benefit both tohru & yuki without stealing anything from their growth. Now, we see the consequences of not planning yuki’s growth moderately throughout the 3 seasons. The biggest element that suffered is his stage as a normal teenage guy with normal romantic feelings to contradict his child-like stage when he needed a motherly care & support from another female his age. By the time se03 started lots of characters with their arcs not starting yet needed the spotlight! Yuki was a character in the final stage of his arc, so his entire romantic journey condensed to (a) fixing machi’s issues to create a bond: se03, e03, (b) deciding to confess the curse & feelings: se03 ep.5. Their relationship can happen off-screen as well, that’s fine, but the audience who spent 2 seasons hearing yuki’s thoughts abt realizing his struggle to acknowledge a motherly love, should have been involved in yuki’s thoughts in realizing a romantic love. All you need, is a very short access to yuki’s thoughts. Him looking at her while doing student council activities & telling us he loves her, not him grabbing her hand  thinking “ oh gotta tell her my biggest secret & test her love to me”. So, it is a shame normal teenage boy yuki in love part is missing before the confession & becoming an official couple.

-Yuki’s growth after facing kyo:

This part that is confusing me. Part of making yuki become his own person is making him face kyo & they both set their differences aside & connect. They both becoming free from the “ I hate you” that the sohma system constructed & their trauma reinforced. This is huge as you can connect it to the zodiac legend: The cat never hated the rat for tricking it & the rat was never bad. The whole legend crumbles down as the two zodiacs connect.

--During the fight: yuki was his real self: someone who cares for others with burning passion. Yuki completely dropped down any remaining attachment to his mask & was his most open & emotional stage. The boys connected in a dark dim-let hallway between their rooms. Signaling they met in the middle. Now they see eye to eye.

--After the fight: Kyo left the darkness into the sunny streets, decided to face his dad & reconcile with his past, was rewarded with the knowledge that he didn’t have anything to do with his mom’s death. He left his dad’s house determined to chase his life. Move forward. He had doubts again as he neared tohru but those doubts added humanity & realistic reluctance. You just dont go 100% strong suddenly. But it is so weird that yuki kinda regressed a little after the fight?? he stayed in the dark dim-let hallway? why? His body language confused me so much!

Yuki looked broken, hugging himself, hiding his face, head buried, exactly as he was in akito’s room in his flashbacks!!!

We hear the same voice-over from the ep opener abt mistakes & trails. The voice-over fits kyo so much but it is so weird attached to yuki now in this exact stage after the fight while he’s sad? Why is yuki sad to begin with??? Is it because yuki is the writer & she needed to comment on kyo’s state thro yuki’s voice-over? This has been done before in se02, ep14. But why attach it with sad imagery of yuki? the voice-over can be attached to him being relived, calm & collected.

Shouldn’t he be relived & liberated knowing the guy who hated him & hurt him was in reality admiring him all this time?! Shouldn’t he be proud of himself for standing up to tohru? for opening up abt his feelings?

Shouldn’t he be happy to empty his chest from the long hidden secret of admiring kyo! Shouldn’t he be clear headed now? stronger? like how kyo is stronger now?

Shouldn’t he be glad that he helped kyo get his act together. He did another person whom he presumably hate a favor just like tohru did him a favor. I’m not saying he should be happily jumping in the house, lol, but he shouldn’t be sad, too!

Why staying in the dark? Why sulking? Why having existential thoughts abt life in general until machi saved him from all that with her call.

-Kureno/ Arisa/ Akito: (the end of the non-existence triangle):

Arisa unexpectedly found out the man she loved is hospitalized. Akito tells her I stabbed him. Arisa hugs her. I’m sorry, but what? XD. Shouldn’t Arisa at least say: what? is he okay? Not judging, but why did you stab him? I mean even if Arisa is okay with akito & all, but as a first reaction that was so weirdly-written, lol. I get the need to hastily close this chapter, But I duno it could’ve been written better even with the intention of making Arisa hug akito. oh well~ moving on. Arisa says she’s sorry she wasnt in kureno’s 26 years & I was like yeah, cuz you weren’t born yet, girl! You can plan to spend the rest of your life with him, but I fail to see the romance in the sentiment of feeling left out from the life of a person older than me. I simply wasn’t born. Anyway, moving on~ He then tells her he needs to leave /break up with akito for akito’s sake! oh, kureno, you’re such a kind/fool guy, but OMG, do I wish to hear my crush/lover say he’ll break up with his ex for his ex’s sake!  I get this is Airisa thing, to love foolish/kind ppl. I get it. She appreciate that & wasn't offended. But I cant help feeling those lines weren’t romantic at all! Moving on ~again~ she then tells him, she’ll follow him & won’t say why. Teasing him that she loves him. so cute! but also such a teenage girl thing to say, so....~~ lol.. Now, really Moving on ~ He’s cute, she’s gorgeous, so, their ship sailed~

-Running towards the future: (wanting you)

The ep closed with both kyo & yuki chasing their future in union. Kyo determined but worried, yuki surprised but blushing. Machi took yuki from the darkness of his hallway to the sunny streets to give him sth, unknowingly setting their 1st date! Tohru runs away from kyo, which he responded by more determination contradicting his defeated self when tohru confessed to him in ep8. Can I say seeing kyo runs after tohru is so fulfilling after seeing him push her away! yes, tohru, give him hard time! yes, make him bend da knee, queen! XD. I guess next ep we’ll see two confessions!

I can’t say much abt yuki/machi confession as I don’t know their romantic dynamics at all, but I have no doubt the director will make yuki’s confession worthy to compensate the lack of their growth as a romantic ship! can’t wait!!

As for kyoru, oh boy~ tohru looks hurt, as expected! her eyes are tearful. Kyo has to show her the old defeated, broken & accepting-death boy is gone now! he’ll have to show her how much he wants her!  That’s the key word: “ it is crazy how much I want her” ~ the boy who thought he deserved nothing but death is now actively wanting the best girl in all anime! Miss. Tohru Honda. My girl!

Side Notes:

I appreciate the personal privacy theme in furuba: no one knows the details of any couples fights or loves except them. Hatori/kana, hatori/mayoko: except shigre the matchmaker!, tohru/kyo: except yuki heard by chance & neither tohru nor kyo talked abt their fight to anybody, but everybody knows those two fools in love, XD. Yuki/machi: kyo didnt even know yuki is thinking of someone. but then again, I dont know if machi herself knows yet. shigure/akito: ok, I’ll skip this one until I’m confident I can express/ understand it. lol

Kyo’s face as he left his dad’s house! the determination! so proud of him!! but kyo’s I’m-so-crazily-in-love face is kyo’s best face, tho. The tenderness!

I’m the girl who rolls her eyes when someone tricks me to watch a “romantic film, like The Notebook” ... Also, i’m the girl who screamed when kyo chased tohru in a typical romcom fashion! XD. Takaya-san, what did you do to me?! AAAAAAAA~~

Kyo’s questions of why? how? what? he loves abt tohru, then ahh~ I just love her... I want her~ then the “ ppl shouldn't run when getting out of hospital” are the best tension release after the scumbag dad scene! I was amused, in tears, laughing, crying, cheering & above all! so happy!

MACHI was not allowed to turn her face to the viewers the entire ep! WHY!!!!!!!! T_T. You could’ve shown me her face as she was worried that tohru is yuki’s gf. or her shock at hearing ? mom? T_T.

haru is love. haru is dumb. haru is the best. lol.

Kakeru responding with ease “ she’s his mom” is the best & most realistic thing a friend should do to his friend! XD.

Why doesn't kyo (who is rich btw) own sneakers with different colors? lol. why the exact same color! is tohru the only one allowed to change designs? XD.

Yuki’s outfit today is his best outfit! Also, if blushing yuki is yuki’s default face in his romantic time with machi! then it is so refreshing! altho, i think machi is the blusher. lol. I duno, they both blush? maybe he’s similar to how haru is? I guess, we’ll know next ep! =D

Question: what was the joke in haru’s scene abt entering the house when yuki hit him & said so crass? I dont get it..... lol

Shigure was allowed to use his old jokes abt wrecking his house. I missed those! XD

Furuba’s voice-overs are always badly implemented. Now we have two voice overs of yuki with the same content exactly: one in the ep opener & one near the end. why couldn’t one be enough? Why repeat the same speech twice? this reduces its value & hinders the animation dynamics.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #sleepy paper #part 2 #final season

[lifedesignhome]

So, tell me. Do you love your kitchen or hate it? If you said you weren’t sure or worse, if you said it didn’t matter then you and me need to talk. Your kitchen is in dire need of you and those little specks of personality to become the room in your home that really matters. So let’s get started and I’ll show you how to spice up your kitchen without spending the big bucks.

There are a million ways to get creative around the kitchen and add some much-needed flair.

But I’ll let you in on the top five ways to turn your plain Jane kitchen into a room that’s exciting, full of character and a conversation-starter.

  Get Your Paintbrush Out

Even the smallest addition of color can create big impact if you think your kitchen’s dull and boring. Make your cabinets your canvas and paint them over in hues that have you splashed all over. You could do bold and solid shades like reds, dark blues or black; you could choose sunny pastels like peach, pink or yellow. Or, you could get creative and paint just portions of your cabinets. In fact, multi-color cabinets are all the rage now – so choose colors that complement each other and your personality. Then go to town with your paintbrush.

If painting over the entire cabinet isn’t calling out to you, then stenciling could be a happy median. Stenciling is at a resurgent moment in interior design and can produce an effect that is low on drama, yet high on impact. Trust me, those little floral elements and cute little patterns and borders are going to breathe new life into your cabinets. And, if DIY projects are your forte, consider making your own stencils with thick acetate sheets you can find online or at most hobby stores.

  Transform, Repurpose and Upcycle

\

Painting and stenciling seem too run-of-the-mill? Decoupage techniques may be just what you need. Online tutorials can walk you through how wallpaper, or even paper towels, can be applied to your cabinet doors for an instantaneous makeover. Add that coat of varnish for longevity and you are done. Step back and take a bow!

But who says you need to stop with your cabinets? Simply paint some fruit crates and mount them in geometric patterns and you’ve created a nice little focal point that’s also practical kitchen storage. And, like I said, if you’re into DIY projects, there are so many on repurposing and upcycling old items sourced at home or locally.

Like this old wooden window, that’s been repurposed into rustic kitchen storage; or this old shuttered door that’s been revived with an asymmetric paint job and a few different type of hooks to serve as a kitchen organizer with quirk.

And while we’re on the topic of painting, why not add some zing to the biggest surface in your kitchen, a.k.a., your floor. Wooden flooring, like the one in this kitchen, can be painted to introduce character on an entirely new level. If you are planning to completely overhaul your kitchen and make it rustic, then definitely consider making your floor a chessboard of black and white checks.

  Add Life to Design

Got a green thumb, have you? Then an indoor herb garden can be just what your kitchen needs to truly come alive. Figuring out how to integrate plants into your kitchen’s decor has never been easier. Your ideal planter can be made from a variety of materials, ranging from tin cans, PVC pipes, leftover coffee tins, mason jars, pint glasses, wooden pallets, clear drinking glasses, gutters, tea cups, washtubs, cut off wine bottles, and even wooden clothespins. Yay!

Plants and herb gardens are so versatile they look great in kitchens of any style. They can purify the air and breathe more charm into a vintage kitchen; soften the edge in a modern, utilitarian kitchen; or usher the very first element of personality into a builder’s grade kitchen. Whatever be the existing decor of your kitchen, you can get really creative with the kind of herbs you plant, the materials you use to make your garden and most importantly, the way you position them in your kitchen.

Finding the right space for your herbs can be tricky because not all kitchens come with a window and ledge; not all kitchens are flooded with natural light, and not all places are blessed with great weather throughout the year. But there’s no reason to fret. Angle your kitchen garden over the sink so that your herbs can soak up all the light (if there’s a window) and you can put the ‘short wall’ on the side of a cabinet to creative use.

If your kitchen is tiny and you cannot spare any ground for your herb garden, then the vertical garden is meant for you. Or, nail slatted room dividers or a pegboard to the wall, plant your herbs in shiny tin cups, mugs or small pots and simply hang them up. They can instantly turn your walls into a live canvas of greenery. Or, for a more over-the-top look (literally), you can install these upside down planters to add a new dimension to your kitchen. Find more inspiration for herb gardens in your kitchen here and here.

  Your Kitchen Statement

If we are different from one another then why shouldn’t our kitchens be too? If we can make statements with our clothing, accessories, and makeup, why mustn’t kitchens follow too? Go ahead and express some swag in your kitchen by adding striking hardware, art, rugs and other accessories that build your unique kitchen statement.

These add-ons can be larger than life, like this wall that’s been converted into a giant blackboard using chalkboard paint; or some vintage lighting that spotlights strategically in these kitchens; or these sturdy patterned rugs that add some much-needed texture to the kitchen floor. Making a style statement with your backsplash tiles is totally cool and the tin ones here or these retro subway style tiles integrate themselves seamlessly into the kitchen decor. And don’t ignore your kitchen sink. Ever. A copper or stone sink with new faucets to match can become statement pieces by themselves.

What can be better at starting conversations than a piece of art? And what’s better than having art in the room you hang out the most with friends and family? Don’t forget that your kitchen can and should be styled just like any other room in your house. There’s no need to obsess over functionality alone in a kitchen. Canvas art can add a splash of color to an otherwise plain kitchen or it can extend the overall style of your home into the kitchen.

But if that sounds a bit impersonal and not-so-budget-friendly, then how about framing a few pictures of you and your family and making a photo wall? It’s a sure shot way to get your family and guests talking! But remember to choose a color scheme that will not distract from the overall look you’re aiming for your kitchen.

  Style it Yourself

If there’s one thing that I love about being a millennial, it’s DIY. We don’t just know how to make it ourselves, but we have our pal, the Internet, to help make everyone else make it themselves too! Sound convoluted? No? I didn’t think so! Why wait, then? Look around your kitchen, home, and locality. Find what you can and make it into something that will blow everyone’s mind off. And hey, don’t forget to share the how-to. Okay?

By being a DIY person, you not just lend personality to your kitchen but do it without any big holes burning into your pocket. Like collecting all the glass jars, that once housed pizza sauce, nut butter or salad dressings and reusing them to store kitchen ingredients. Add your own touch by using chalkboard labels and some cute lettering to label what’s inside; you could quickly nail in a few open shelves and display your reused glass jars as well. Go here for more ideas.

Another inexpensive way to add personality is to buy vintage linens from garage sales and antique shops and switching them out every season. Your apron, tablecloth, and dish towels need not be just that, you know?

And if painting seems too tiresome or expensive at the moment, consider adding splashes of color by simply displaying your fruits and veggies better. Use cheap wire baskets to store them and place them at a spot that needs refreshing. Fresh flowers in a vase will work too.

Have a neat bookshelf and some amazing cookbooks? Bring them into the kitchen right away because bookshelves mimic the open cabinetry style that’s so in now. It would be the perfect open display for your China or rustic copper pots (at the top), your cookbooks (in the middle) and table linen and extra cutlery stored in wicker baskets (at the bottom).

The possibilities are clearly endless and you might need to convert another room into a kitchen to try them all out. Since that’s obviously not gonna happen (it’s not, right?) I suggest you try a few new updates every once in a while so that there’ll never be a time in your life when your kitchen looked dead.

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