#COMPARED TO WHAT SAND DID TO TOP (WHICH HE GOT NO CONSEQUENCES FOR) TOP IS A FUCKING ANGEL

[forcebookish]

the topsand kiss fills me with such a surge of instant rage lol

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Golden Prince Naga Boyfriend (Shesmetet) 3

I may have to break this down into another part as it’s so long already. 

Warning: some threats and language.

Words: 3k

1 [NSFW]   -   2   -  4  -  5 (FINALE)

Divine Worship Part 3

His chambers were poorly lit compared to the countless times you had been there to share his bed, the fading candles blowing softly in the aromatic room of sweet pomegranates and lemon slices that filled your nostrils but did not seem to calm your nerves. 

You knew of the consequences, the outcome in which your life would be on the line, but you didn’t know exactly how to take it all.  

The Jade Prince was by his table drinking from his golden cobra chalice the same wine he had ‘borrowed’ from his sister, observing how he poured and drank from it like it was water. Two, then three, then four. 

His body was showing all signs of fatigue and strain: his usual sleek ink-black hair was so unkempt and tangled, the stress of being the representative of his father on top of all the things surrounding you.

You couldn’t help but feel that this was all your fault, had you kept this all from happening and not even going to his bedchambers more and more, you wouldn’t be having to stress for your life being taken by the Princess Iseka.

You had been on the verge of doubling over and pouring your tears out in front of the prince, your last moment of courage bringing you to speak his name. “Your Grace-”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was gravelly and deeper than expected, but his body didn’t show any signs of inebriation, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

You twisted your fingers to clench at your dress, your hair guarding you of your eyes that were threatening to spill those tears. 

“No, this is my fault.” You confessed forlornly. “The Rising Sun is your betrothed and I will ruin that alliance if it is to be revealed to the court. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

You understood your punishment would be a fate worse than death if his father found out, but your morbid mentality had come to slowly accept this. 

Before you, the large naga had twisted so sudden and swift that you didn’t think was possible for a creature his size. Like a coiled viper, Shesmetet had moved up the stairs to come to face you fully, his large head and torso still towering over you even when his entire body and tail was lying from the base of the stairs. 

His large clawed fingers came to rest and cradled you from the curve of your cheeks to your jaw, his hands almost swallowing your face whole. You breathed in relief to his touch, relishing in how your body instinctively moved in closer. 

“I do not want to hear you speak those words again, my love.” His golden eyes were pooling with emotion and sadness, his darkened scales looked like encrusted rocks from the far corners of the world. “We will get through this together.”

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment he had used so soon and so suddenly, but it made your stomach quiver with adoration and admiration for the golden prince. “What about the Princess? Or your father?”

“I would rather burn the four corners of the eastern hemisphere and the other courts before she could touch you or harm you in any way.” He protectively declared, his bare muscular chest swelled with pride, his eyes flickered with further thought. 

“As for my father, well... the old man will not see fit to have my beloved taken away from me without it costing my life or my titles thrown across the sands.”

You needed to know whether it was true or not, his words that he had told his sister, the Star of The Sea: ‘I know, but as long as I get to spend a lifetime with you, that is all that will matter.’

He brought you back to his attention with a gentle stroke of his fingers against your knuckles. “You’re pensive.”

“I’m anxious, I worry that this will all flare up and come down horribly.” You cradled yourself as you pulled your gaze from him. “Your sister isn’t pleased with this arrangement.”

“My sister has been free from my father’s laws since she had been declared his heir. She takes her plights of fancy wherever she goes.” The Young Flame chortled wryly, his gaze melting for you once more. “But, I don’t believe she is infuriated with you—no, someone would have to be witless to have bad blood with you, my dear. Let Amvalma cool before the storm; she will be using it against me rather than anyone else. My sister’s wroth can last for many moons.”

You wanted to believe his words, but you knew that it was true for Princess Amvalma to hold her stubbornness close to her. If there was anyone you wanted to check over with, it was definitely her.

“Let us enjoy the rest of this evening, I would rather have you in my arms than to worry about anything else in this world.” Shesmetet pressed warming kisses to each of your fingers, dispelling any further worries from brewing and frothing over, gently leaning you into the pillows behind as he took his place beside you, his large coils curling around you lovingly.

“The break of day will bring another hurdle.” You reminded yourself softly, bringing the prince’s attention. “One that we will face together.” He kissed at your flesh once more tenderly. “I’m on your side, no matter what.” Your body coiled into the curve of his arm, using his rising and falling chest to rest your head as the two of you allowed sleep to take over.

-

The Star of the Sea had ignored you at breakfast, her posture stiff as well as her face being wrangled free from her relaxed nature, painfully kissing her future sister in law’s cheeks dutifully as the food was being served around them. 

Quail eggs and blood sausages, fried and skewered lizard with a sea of fruits of all sorts that had been imported, but the Jade emperor’s children had picked at the food lightly as they sat in a stiff-necked silence. 

It was never this quiet, always the table had been filled with merriment and soft music, but the hall had been all-so dead with no soul to be heard. The staff had been too sapped of all life as they served the sweet wines to the royals silently.

The Princess Iseka had been sat next to her husband-to-be, dressed in a beaded headpiece that was nothing in comparison to Amvalma’s golden piece. Instead, hers took after the Jade court’s colours of deep greens and blacks; the small bells jingling in her braided hair whenever her head moved.

You had found Kira in the back of the room, and when you had gone to stand beside her from the opposite side of the room, she was already discreetly leading you out of the room with her hold around your wrist.

“Is it true? His Grace wishes to denounce his marriage to the Rising Sun?” Her voice was in a hushed whisper.

“How did you know?”

“I’m not surprised the entire court hasn’t heard of this, sparing the ears of the Emperor and Princess Iseka.” Her stance read disappointment, the motherly figure standing before you was all you needed in feeling more worthless. 

Her hands reached out towards you suddenly, feeling at your palms and forearms, onlooking the flesh for any bruises or marks. “He’s not forcing you to do this… His Grace… is he?”

“Gods, no, Kira.” You held her by her hands carefully, squeezing on emphasis. “His Grace hasn’t hurt me or threatened me ever since I was chosen to lay with him. This isn’t what I wanted… the gossip, the rumours being told from staff to be spread to the handmaidens then to someone who I wouldn’t want them knowing.”

Kira’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “…His Grace… The Young Flame is smitten with you, truly it seems.”

“He promises me my safety, but I do not know whether I shall be safe if he is not around always. He has been tired from his work, and I know where the grass lurks, snakes do too.”

“The worst ones for sure.” Kira gave a sympathetic smile, pulling something from her pocket as she pressed it into the palm of your hand. “My sweet, I hope that the Gods are kind to you. You are a bright soul too. I pray that Iseka never finds out.”

“Thank you, Kira.” You smiled woefully, looking to the gift she had given you: pressed into you palm was a golden amulet, its curves familiar to you in what was given to those for good fortune and help. “That was my sisters, but I know that this will come in handy for you more than I.”

“Oh, Kira.” You reached to hug the older woman, not expecting her to reciprocate it, but when you felt her arms wrap around your waist, you felt the tears spill from your eyes. “I’m so afraid.”

“I know, my sweet. But His Grace sees something in you that must leave him wanting more. No doubt of it, I see that he is more lifted when you are in the room.” She smiled and pulled back, wiping back your tears, glaring at the passing staff who gave odd looks. 

It got you thinking: how in the name of the Jade Empire were you going to get away from the grasps of Iseka? There was no doubt you would be able to, but you couldn’t think of any other ways of being able to be excused if something terrible were to happen.

Your thoughts for the rest of the day included trying to ignore any invasive thoughts that could endanger yourself, tending to be silent and obedient to those whenever they wanted something. 

Princess Amvalma had been ignoring you for the entirety of the day, and when it came to her tending to her affairs, you had been more than surprised when she had picked another one of her handmaidens to help her get ready for the night, brushing you and the other ladies-in-waiting with little regard.

It left you a bit heartbroken: knowing full well that this wasn’t going to as easy as Shesmetet had stated. Amvalma’s wroth was worse than I had expected. You thought as you walked the poorly-lit halls and passageways to get back to your chambers. And now, I was to be hated by her.

There had been the glinting of metal scraping along the golden marble as you looked up in time to bump into the tall figures; two exactly. Their amour was a burnt copper of rust and oranges, their bardiches glinting in contrast to their smooth scales of dark greens to pale browns. You didn’t recognise them to be of the royal Jade court guard, but the realisation was spreading quickly in your mind like wildfire. 

Oh, your thought had been, and then you had been grabbed at you and your noises of protest began.

They dragged you by each up back up the corridor you had come from, your protests and yelping for help came as futile when they had ignored you and spoke in tongues that you didn’t understand. Threats, and those blades had told you to keep quiet.

West then east, the corridors spiralled, growing confused and lost as to where you were going. Finally, their rough touches and hands pushed you to the ground as they halted, bowing as four others appeared from the loitering shadows.

You should’ve known that you were in deep waters when you heard the eerie noise grow closer and finally emerged out. The gleeful bells of misery.

“This is the one? The one they have been speaking of?” Princess Iseka’s was heavily laced with a thick accent and venom on her tongue from how she spoke so lowly of your presence, gliding out from the dimness to present herself.

Her size alone was smaller than the Star of The Sea, but she alone was still long and twice in height compared to you, dwarfing you like you were a meek mouse in the awaiting jaws of a cat.

Her bells didn’t stop jingling until she was standing up-close and above you, towering you with ease, her cat-like gaze acidifying at the sight of you, scowling. “A common base harlot, I see. This one stole my intended.”

Your body had rocked you with free that shocked your system from doing anything, shakily raising your hands above your head in a plea. “Forgive me, Princess—I never wanted any trouble.”

“And yet, you stole my betrothed, your Prince, and used your parts to get you into his bed.” She hissed lowly, and when you caught sight of the long pointed nails attached to her fingers, you flinched at what she would do.

“My Shesmetet, partaking in fucking human whores, how I will change his ways when we are wedded. As for you,” the same hand you had been looking at grabbed at you suddenly by your face, lifting you up in the air with ease by the grip around your throat, her nails digging into your skin painfully. “I will deal with you accordingly.”

You body scrambled to get some air, the tears falling like diamonds from your cheeks, dropping to her own flesh, blinding you from how much you begged in choked cries. 

“Such a pitiful little thing. I can see why he took interest in you, you were easy to break, I see. He will grow bored of you when I pretty you up for him. He will find you ever so comely.” She grinned amused, her eyes glinting with murderous intent.

You final wrack of a sob echoed through the dark hall, your thoughts going to whether the Gods themselves had been cruel to curse you like this. Iseka was right: you were more suited as a street whore than handmaiden to the heir. And you would be remembered as one for your crimes.

A deep rasping hiss broke the hostile air, Iseka herself had stiffened on sight, her gaze wavering to what was standing behind, her grip loosening bit by bit until she dropped you to the ground not so nicely in fear. 

The floor bruised your knees your skin blotchy and bloody as you gripped at your neck to get air in. When you had looked back to what was there, you realised you hadn’t been alone.

You recognised the colours: the jade and blacks, the glinting gold and gilded armour of the guards of the court, and charging in so dangerously and heatedly the Prince himself. 

You didn’t think the stare he was holding would make yourself quake: a look of such repugnance and abhorrence for the Rising Sun that you thought it had been originally for you.

With all power of his tail, he had parted through his guards down the middle like parting the sea waves, before growing himself to hover over Iseka, his eyes of liquid gold pooling with such spite and fury. “Get yourself out of my father’s court before I have my men cut you and your dogs into ribbons.”

The Rising Sun looked to be on the verge of tears at his threat - even her tears appeared to the colour of leaking gold. “But, m-my love!-”

“Don’t make me say it again, you heard me the first time. I don’t want to share your presence again.” He turned from her with little thought, with the Princess and you being left in hysteria from what had just happened. 

With his back to her, he called to his men with a beckon. “Escort the Princess to her chambers, I wish her good travels back to her court.”

Her pleas and cries could be heard as both she and the Jade Prince’s guards accompanied her out from the hallway, leaving the two of you alone once more. With the fury and resentment replaced with tenderness and devotion, Shesmetet collected you into his broad arms, hugging you tightly to his chest. 

“My love.” His voice was full of relief.

You didn’t care now whether or not you two had been alone now, for you had allowed yourself to fully cry in his presence, the Golden naga had embraced you warmly and allowed you to weep into his chest whilst he murmured softly and sweetly in reassurance.

“I’m… I’m sorry this all happened.”

“No, I’m sorry on her behalf.” Shesmetet began gravelly, pulling away to carefully wipe away a tear with the back of his finger. “I don’t think I have ever felt so much rage for what she almost did to you there. I could’ve sliced her in half in that very moment.”

You gasped softly to yourself: not thinking that he would do so much to protect you, but it warmed your chest and made your heart flutter with butterflies, the small sad smile that adorned your features brought him to tenderly kiss at your lips so fearlessly, not caring of who was there nor not.

“I will never let you out of my sight, you hear? I will never let another lay a hand on you again.” He promised softly, and you believed him truly. “But your father? Your sister? They will not be pleased with you dropping the marriage.”

The smile and laughter that erupted over the Gold Prince’s features were pleasing and beautiful to hear, his rich eyes drinking you in with so much appreciation and love.

“My sister knows so far as what I must do, but I know it is what I have to do for duty and for my family.”

You were expecting him to reject his love for you for his family and royal blood, but instead, he cradled you close as he kissed at your knuckles. “My father will not like the news when I tell him how much I wish to marry you.”

-

Support me on Ko-fi!~ 

[greenninjagal-blog]

That Island That I Just Can’t Reach

Quick little idea that I super loved and couldn’t get out of my head: Sanders Sides/ Miraculous Ladybug au! I call it The Faux-Butterfly Effect!

Words: 2329

Pairings: Anxeit (because I’m a sucker for sympathetic Deceit)

Summary: Virgil doesn’t know how to tell his former best friend that magical girl transformations do not stop real world bullets.

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @treasureofpriam

Ao3  || Series Master on Ao3 || My Genral Masterlist

Virgil Storm hasn’t talked to Dante Ethan Ekans in two years. And yet, here he stands right in front of Virgil, dressed up like that fox themed menace that’s been terrorizing the Shopping District for the past week, and he’s holding out a box out to Virgil and asking him to help save the world.

Part of him can’t believe this is real.

It’s most likely some sort of trick. 

Dante had always been really good mind games. Ever since they were kids and he had learned that he could get what he wanted by telling his dad that his mom had specifically said no to it. Virgil had lost count of the fights he had started with just flick of his tongue, of the verbal sparring he had engaged in during class that left most of his opponents scratching their heads, of the consequences he had dodged by just a hair’s breadth.

At one point, Virgil and him had been inseparable.

Virgil thinks that’s why he knows who it is under that offensive orange mask. It’s so obvious. There’s no one else who smiles like that, who’s eyes glisten so excitedly when they leap straight into danger, who delights in trickery and illusions the way that Dante did. The way he stands is so Dante-like that its almost painful to look at. Virgil almost doesn’t understand why he’s the only one who sees it.

But then he remembers that not everyone had a massive crush on their best friend.

“Virgil Storm,” The Fox says-- what was he going by? It was some sort of pun wasn’t it?-- “Will you help me save the world?”

Its absurd. Absolutely insane.

“Are you stupid?” Virgil blurts out. Which is probably not the smartest thing ever because Dante has a flute that doubles as a bo-staff that he most certainly knew now to wield and they hadn’t exactly parted like friends.

“What--” Dante blinks like he had been ten steps ahead and Virgil had just done something that threw off his entire plan. “You do know I’m literally giving you the power of a god. Just take the broach--”

He nudges it towards Virgil’s face, and Virgil is suddenly flooded with angry beyond his comprehension. He doesn’t really know what its about, but suddenly his hand flies up and he slaps the box right out of Dante’s hand.

“Are you stupid?!” Virgil snarls again. “No stop! This isn’t about the fucking box, Dante!” 

The Fox hero freezes.

Virgil thinks its the first time he’s had Dante’s attention all to himself in two years. Its terrifying. Its invigorating. Virgil wants to cry.

Had he really missed those gold and brown eyes that much?

“This isn’t a game, Dante! Florida is under attack!” Virgil shouts at him, “Those are people with actual guns! That’s the actual American Government! And no fancy orange super suit is gonna stop an M4 carbine! You’re gonna die!”

Virgil’s hands are shaking, he realizes. His entire body is shuddering at the thought. Because as soon as its out of his mouth that they only thing he can think about is Dante lying on the ground with a gaping wound in his chest and his blood and life leaking out of him. All he can think about is that smile falling blank, and those pale lips splattered with blood, and those eyes-- those special, mismatched, and mischievous eyes-- losing that light they danced so freely with.

All he can think about is Dante dying.

“I’m not going to die,” Dante says dismissively.

“You don’t know that!” Virgil wants to pull out his hair. How can he brush off the danger like? How can he have such a disregard for his own life?

“Virgil,” Dante says again. Had Virgil’s name always sounded so foriegn coming from him? Or maybe its just how softly the other says it compared to the way it had been screamed the last time? Had one argument really shattered everything they had?

Dante reaches his arms out and gently grabs arms shoulders, “Listen to me. Have I ever led you astray before?”

Virgil thinks of the time they were seven and Dante had gotten him bit by a dog because he said “it’s obviously harmless!” and Virgil had believed him, of the time they were eleven and Dante had said “No one will catch us!” and they had both been arrested an hour later in the middle of spray painting the wall of the not-quite-so-abandoned warehouse, of the time when they were fourteen and Virgil had beat out Logan for the highest grade in history class because Dante had slipped him the answers and the next time they had tried to do it Logan had snitched on him out of spite--

“I am not going to die,” Dante says confidently, “You are going to help make sure I don’t die, but providing me with support.”

Virgil shakes his head. He feels sick to his stomach, and cold despite the wait he’s sweating through his sweat shirt.

“No!” He croaks, “Find someone else. Anyone else.”

“I don’t trust anyone else like I trust you.”

A laugh breaks the feverish feeling he has. Because it’s insane, absurd, stupid. Dante can trust him? That’s got to be the worst joke he’s ever made. 

“No!” Virgil yells again, “You made it very clear what you think of me, Dante!” So clear, in fact, that, Virgil still lays awake at night remembering the way that Dante had screamed his name and called him a traitor when Virgil had just been trying to keep him alive to see the end of the week.

Dante’s pale underneath that mask. It looks like for the first time his silvertongue doesn’t have a response. It tries, though, fluttering behind those perfect white teeth of Dante’s and choking on too many syllables. 

There used to be a time when Virgil knew what he was thinking with just a glance.

That time is long gone. And as much as Virgil misses it, he doesn’t think it can ever come back. Not when every time they talk theres something between them: a door, a phone, a bright orange mask. 

There’s a primordial fear in him that sparks when something pops into the air between them that sounds remotely like an English word and Virgil realizes that he doesn’t want to know what Dante is thinking. He pushes himself away from Dante and the Fox lets him go.

Maybe its the shock? Dante doesn’t usually let go of things that easily.

He pretends like he doesn’t miss the warmth the second its gone. Instead Virgil’s arms wrap around his body and he hugs the feeling of wrongness out of his body.

“I’m not doing this,” Virgil says, “I’m not helping you kill yourself, Dante. I can’t do that.” 

For a moment, Virgil things he reached him. Like Dante’s been on some distant island since his mother’s funeral and Virgil’s been paddling towards that island but every time he gets close the island is somehow further away-- For a moment Virgil’s thinks he’s finally landed on the beach and there’s sand between his toes, and Dante is right there on the shore ready to come back home--

For a moment Virgil thinks that Dante will take off that mask and come with him to find somewhere to hide. 

But the moment passes, and Dante leans to the ground and picks up that box. His hands are shaking. His lips purse but he nods at Virgil.

“Okay,” he says. He flips the box in the air. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Virgil repeats.

Dante looks at him. Virgil looks back.

“I’m sorry,” Dante says. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me. That was my bad.”

Virgil’s stomach jumps straight to his throat.

“You want to stay and hide and I get that, Virge, I do.” He says and Virgil thinks he really doesn’t. “There’s safety in the shadows and in keeping your head down. But I can’t do that. Not when there are people out there who are begging for a hero-- and I’m a pretty crappy hero, but I’m the only one they’ve got.”

The necklace he’s wearing glistens in the sunlight that peaks down at them. Virgil thinks he remembers a public announcement going out about how much it was worth if someone got it and turned it in. Millions probably.

“I’m going to save those people, Virgil.” Dante says. 

In a fluid movement Dante has that flute bo staff drawn and he slams it into the ground and vaults himself into the air. Virgil’s jaw drops as he watches him catch a windowsill and pushes off to the other wall and  bounces back and forth until he’s on the roof of the building and dancing in the sunlight completely.

It makes him look like a traffic cone. 

The Fox hero-- Dante-- spins the flute in his hand and stares down at Virgil with an unreadable emotion on his face. 

“I’m going to save all of America,” Dante says. 

Confidently.

Certainly. 

Virgil wants to scream at him.

But his jaw feels rusted shut and his heart is beating way too fast in his chest. And even if it weren’t, Dante disappears from his line of vision, running the roof tops so very fluently.

And Virgil is left all alone in the back alley, hugging himself and trying to convince himself that he did the right thing. He can’t watch Dante die, he won’t encourage Dante to go gallivanting across the state trying to find a fight that he can’t win.

He’s alone in the darkness.

And its the most real thing he’s ever felt.

***

The Faux Fox was not a hero. 

His debut was robbing a high end jewelry store by filling the area with a imagined bright green gas and waltzing in behind the counter while people were frantically pressing scarfs to their faces and running away from the gas. 

He wasn’t a villain either.

His second appearance had him shutting down a drug ring shipment by terrorizing the grunts with visions of zombies until they turned themselves in.

They called him an anti hero, a vigilante, a menace.

He stopped a bank robbery, shut down a child trafficking ring, exposed a corrupt politician.

Virgil had followed the news stories since they had started popping up. He had his phone set up to notify him any time Faux Fox made the news and he stopped whatever he was doing the second his phone dinged.

The day that Virgil talked to Dante for the first time in two years, he watched from that alley on his phone as Wyvern made his debut beside the Fox and together they ran circles around the aggravated soldiers who were holding hostages in the center of the shopping area in an attempt to draw out the Fox.

Weeks later, he watches huddled in his own locker as school as Zeal turned his school mates fears into protective monsters that drove off the solider occupation of their school.

And weeks after that, Virgil sees for himself the moment that Nectar shows up in that unholy yellow outfit and challenges the Faux Fox to a duel right in the middle of the city where the Fox had just finished emptying a building that was on fire. 

And two days after that, Virgil notes, that Swarm looks exactly like Nectar, but with a white streak in his hair, as he runs for cover inside a shop when the occupying soldiers decided it would be easier to off both the bee wielder and the fox wielder together and take the miraculous from their bodies.  

Virgil thinks about the day in the alley a lot. Every time he goes to school, every time he runs from a fight, every time he sees the color orange and a news headline. He thinks about how it used to be Dante and him against the world, about how Teachers used to dread getting both of them in the class together, about how Virgil moved schools and he probably shouldn’t have but it had been easier to change schools than to face Dante again. 

He thinks about how Dante said, “I don’t trust anyone else like I trust you” with brazen, raw honesty and “I’m going to save America” with unbridled confidence.

And sometimes when he thinks about that, Virgil’s eyes flick over to the tiny box that had appeared in his pillow after that day.

If he had half a mind he would take that box and march over to the mansion Dante lived in when he wasn’t busy defying laws, where the hired help watching the cameras would wave him threw because him and Dante had been that close, and he would throw that box right back at Dante and tell him where he could shove his superhero fantasy.

But that would be talking to him face-to-face with nothing between them. No door, no phone, no masks.

Just Dante on an island he doesn’t want to leave and Virgil in his boat trying to convince him to come back to civilization before he dies alone.

(But thats not true anymore now, is it? Because Virgil’s seen the way that the Faux Fox and Wyvern so a fist bump after they do good work, the way that Zeal grabs the Fox in hugs and sweet smiles, the way that Nectar can finish the Fox’s sentences and Swarm acts on them without hesitation. Dante’s not alone on his island anymore.)

Some day, Virgil thinks, he’ll get the courage to open the box.

(Some day, Virgil thinks, he’ll understand how that island could be safer than his boat)

But for now, he listens the news reports on his phone with his legs curled up to his chest and his hands buried in the sleeves of his jacket and watches the white Pieris greet the flowers he planted in the flower box outside his window.

[fuckyeahcharmcaster]

Pot, Meet Kettle

So, was looking for more Charmcaster content and came upon these comments related to the reboot episode “What Rhymes With Omnitrix?”  And...wow. I won’t name names out of respect for privacy and will put this all under a cut so that only those interested can read it, but the hypocrisy here is just so mind-numbing that I needed to comment on it.

Kevin stans unwilling to admit to his faults, do not engage.

What she did to Kevin was not conning in any way, that was clearly and blatantly magical enslavement complete with chains, torture, and mindcontrol. You can’t just downplay that shit like this and expect me to go along with it, not when the sequel series already tended to pull that, especially with regards to Charmcaster doing that sorta shit. You do not get to blatantly show Kevin being forced to do things against his will, being tortured for fighting back, and then try to pass it off as him having been tricked into working with her. What the fuck is with this franchise with having Charm do horribly evil shit and then just waving it off?

Remind me: how much horribly evil shit did Kevin commit, even in the sequel series themselves where he was a good guy, that got downplayed, justified, waved off or swept under the rug? Murder, war profiteering, aiding other criminals when it suited his interests, letting his friends take the rap for his crimes, etc?  

Sequel series Charm was incredibly shitty, there’s no denying that, probably shittier than sequel series Kevin honestly given the sheer lack of consistency in her character and over-the-top extremes they had her go to. But guess what, that doesn’t make sequel series Kevin un-shitty. If you’re not holding the same standard to how they’re written, your argument loses credibility because it is intellectually dishonest.

More to the point, what about all of the crap that reboot Kevin has pulled? Does none of it bother you? Is him walking free sensible given the stuff he’s done? Ex: he enslaved Glitch, who is a sentient being, against his will twice. He wasn’t taken to task for it afterward, even though he felt no remorse and went on to do more evil deeds. Before getting controlled by Charm, he was about to beat Ben to death. And even before he got his Antitrix he was a vicious bully who traumatized Ben to the point of being scared of public bathrooms. So why is all of that excusable and you can “go along with it” when the show doesn’t dwell on any of it afterward, but you draw a line in the sand when Charm, a villain, does something bad to Kevin, another fucking villain? That’s like hating on Kevin for manipulating the Weatherheads or Steam Smythe and expecting the show to make a bigger deal out of that, or hating on Zombozo for screwing Vilgax over or hypnotizing Kevin and expecting the show to make a bigger deal out of that; it makes no logical sense. Villains are gonna villain, it’s what they do.

With Charmcaster, it was a case of Kevin trying to puff himself up and seem big and bad and Charm responding with ‘great, let me have your brain for my own’, followed by an episode of him fighting viciously against her control until she took 100% over. But he was ‘working with her’, the writers say. And given how much the sequel series were into brushing the awful shit she did under the rug, I really don’t have patience for it here.

Again, I ask if you’ve checked under Kevin’s rug from the sequel series lately. Lot of awful shit there. And if you had the patience for all of that, you can have the patience for this.

And as for what sparked this whole outburst, the ‘working with her’ thing was in reference to that in his puffing Kevin outright said that she ought to take control of him. She told him upfront that she wanted to control Ben against his will to have him attack Gwen, and told him to be on his way because he wasn’t Ben. Kevin could have gotten out unscathed. But, not thinking straight because of jealousy, he protested and said that she should want to control him because he’s more powerful. Charm’s response (basically “OK, if you insist!”) made him realize all too late what he had just said and what it actually meant would happen to him.

It’s not trying to excuse what Charm did as right or justifiable or undermine it in any way, it’s just acknowledging that Kevin also played a willful part in making it happen too due to his hate-boner for Ben, just as Charm did due to her hate-boner for Gwen.  He wasn’t just minding his own business until Charm up and took control of him for no reason: he was about to murder Ben and got accidentally pulled over to Charm who mistook him for Ben, she told him to leave when she realized her mistake, and then Kevin insisted that her plan to control Ben was dumb because Ben was weak; she should want him because he’s stronger. His claim of Charm “conning” him into getting controlled is him lying to himself about what happened, acting as though Charm deliberately manipulated his jealousy to make him say what he did, rather than admit that he had been a stupid, jealous kid who badly fucked up.

It’s not even that they don’t treat her as being in the wrong, it’s that they want her to both be redeemable and also to do things that may or may not be irredeemable. It’s a theme of every sequel series and now the reboot as well.

Except that Charmcaster hasn’t done anything remotely irredeemable in the reboot series. And if you think that she did, then you’re being intellectually dishonest because, again, Kevin has done literally the exact same things and usually for the exact same reasons. He’s not against controlling, enslaving, manipulating or relishing in inflicting pain on people either. He may not be a psychopath, but he still is written as lacking in basic empathy, just like Charm.

It was also absolutely a theme for him as well in the sequel series, probably even moreso since they did a whole fucking arc about it w/ Ultimate Kevin, where he did horrific things that were irredeemable and yet he’s still redeemed and those actions are swept under the rug with the whole “it wasn’t his fault, it was the energy he absorbed that made him do it!” excuse, which is the same kind of cop-out as the Alpha Rune was for sequel series Charmcaster. If you can buy wholesale into that excuse but can’t for the Alpha Rune, you are operating under a double standard. Either both are cases of awful character writing that exist purely for the writers to avoid having to write actual redemption arcs, or neither of them are. Pick one.

SO they have her do these things and then either sweep them under the rug, downplay the shit out of them, or tell us that we should feel sorry for her that she felt the need to do that.

....I...I really can’t right now.  I just can’t.

This literally describes Kevin too. Swap names and gender pronouns, and it’s the same.

And yet every time Kevin does something horrible, your reaction seems to be “oh, my son!”, sweeping it under the rug or downplaying it, and you feel sorry for him that he felt the need to do it; you still understand and sympathize with his troubled mental state regardless of what inexcusable acts of villainy it drives him to do. But when it’s Charmcaster? Fuck that bitch and cue violent fantasies of what Kevin should do to her for revenge just because he happened to be the victim of her actions (oh yeah, and about those: what the actual fuck!? Honestly, the hypocritical bitching about Charm being some kind of writers’ pet wouldn’t bug me half as much without this totally uncalled-for shit accompanying it.)

It sounds to me that this has nothing to do with morality: it has everything to do with a bias toward your fave and anger that he got hurt.  It sounds to me that Kevin can hurt Ben, Gwen, Grandpa Max, Glitch, or anyone else and you’re fine with it - heck, he can hurt Charm and you’re fine with it given the aforementioned fantasies. But when Kevin is hurt, the one who did it MUST be held accountable at every turn and suffer the painful consequences!

He’s your fave, I get it, but the emotions involved with that should not rule out objectivity. Nor should it fuel torture porn fantasies toward another character, especially a female child one who already has being physically abused by a boy as part of her goddamn backstory. (Humiliating slapstick like the show itself uses is fine though, she definitely deserves it.)

The way you are going about it, you come off as a pitiful MRA-type always bitching about how them damn women get away with everything and men get screwed as a result, even when it’s not at all reflective of reality. If you really think the writers of the Ben 10 franchise have historically held some kind of bias toward Charm and didn’t toward Kevin, then just look at Kevin’s screentime throughout the franchise compared to Charm and then come back at me with that shit (same goes for Gwen for that matter; stack her up against Ben and Kevin in terms of significant arcs, actions and development, and you’ll find she falls woefully short.)

And the thing is, for the reboot at least, she’s young enough I’m willing to give her some leeway, but the tempering damages that by making it feel like the writers don’t see what she does as an issue.

It’s not that the writers don’t see what she does as an issue. It’s that you see it as way too big of an issue while also not seeing the same thing happening with Kevin as an issue at all. It’s a double standard, pure and simple: Kevin is your fave and so he can get away with anything in your eyes and you don’t consider it to be troubling writing if he gets let off with a slap on the wrist for it. But you can’t do the same for Charm because she’s not your fave and - more importantly - Kevin is negatively impacted by what she does. If he wasn’t, then I’m pretty damn sure that no evil deed she commits would actually bother you at all. You want the show to fixate on how evil what she did was not because you hold some standard against magical mental enslavement in general, but because you’re angry that she did it to Kevin. This is all about you taking offense on behalf of your fave, not about the writers messing up in any way.

And before anyone gets on my case for bashing Kevin, I’m not! I love reboot Kevin! None of what I described above about him bothers me in any way because I can look at him objectively and enjoy him as the troubled but undeniably nasty little shit that he is, just as I do with reboot Charm. They’re both villains who do villainous things, and the show’s lax attitude toward it is due to its light-hearted tone and the fact that they’re both children (ditto for the likes of Billy Billions and Simon Sez). But more to the point, they’re supposed to be hypocrites in regards to each other, because what they hate about each other is actually the worst of themselves reflected right back at them. They are the same kind of person and they project like crazy, this is a certified fact per Word of God. Their FANS, however, shouldn’t be following their example because they ought to be smarter and more mature than that.

It goes all the way back to this post, and what I said there still applies: Why are male characters allowed to be bitter, angry, hateful, vengeful, insolent, insulting, anti-social, violent and manipulative without reproach while female characters always get demonized for it?  Why does such behavior in a male character get the “my precious son!” reaction, while the exact same behavior in a female character get the “that horrible bitch!” reaction? Why are bad things a female character does to a male character considered irredeemably awful, but what bad things that male character might do to her for revenge considered an appealing fantasy and totally justified? Why can a male character be allowed nuance despite their deplorable acts of villainy, and yet when it’s done with a female character it’s proof that “the writers don’t get that what she did was wrong because otherwise why try to make her appealing or sympathetic in any way?” Why this double standard?

I don’t know, but I do know that it’s wrong and I am not here for it.

Tl;dr: don’t hate on Charm for things your fave is equally guilty of or things that a witch-themed supervillain is gonna naturally do just because it’s your fave who gets hurt by it.

[golde-n-childe-blog]

After the Fire Dies

Smoke hung thick in the air, though it didn't pose much threat. The smoke in hell was thicker and stunk of more than charred wheat fields and betrayal. Still, if Blue asked, she would have blamed the plumes for the tears in her eyes. Anything to avoid the truth, right? The reason her lord picked her for the task. Ursula dodged the truth and walked the thin line of the little white lie like a tightrope acrobat. Misdirection worthy of applause like a handstand split. Half-truths were her ring of fire; they were captivating, dazzling despite the certainty of destruction. She played the crowd better than anyone, Blue could attest to that. The heat from the fire as it licked at her back during the battle was nothing compared to the searing cold of his glare. 

He sat across from her, sand colored complexion smudged with soot, dirt, and streaks of blood. The same combination turned his short, dark curls a dusty gray. Nothing dulled his sharp, gray-green eyes as they cut through every layer and lie she'd ever built between them.

"Was any of it real?"

Of course, that was the question he killed the silence between them. And he did kill it. Each word that slipped from his full lips carried enough muted fury to fill the entirety of their three-year friendship.

How could she answer?

It would have been easy to tell him no. To sit and ramble off a dramatic monologue about her evil scheming and his role as a pawn. She could weave an entire web of reasons for him to hate her more, against her own desires. Better than telling the truth.

"Nothing to say, then?" he snapped, "Maybe the question was too hard. Let's try this: Why did you bring me here?"

The little stone cottage on the outskirts of their battlefield had long since been abandoned before their clash came to fruition. A handful of wooden structures dotted the wheat field, but wood didn't make a safe shelter during a demonic wildfire. Which left the tiny, stone building as the only cover while the flames raged outside. Ursula believed it to be logical reasoning at the time, considering the sizable wound in her side. And she could have volleyed that reasoning across the room to him and see if he'd accept that instead of the less logical reason he searched for. A quick glance into his grimacing face and she knew better than to offer a distraction. But that, once again, left her with nothing but the truth burning in her throat, hurting more than the smoking hole under her arm. The worst part... she wanted to tell him everything. All of it threatened to spill out of her like the black blood oozing down her hip. But Ursula learned a long time ago. Sometimes the truth is harder to believe than a lie. Her silence stretched between them and Blue stirred, shifting his weight from one side to the other, wincing when he twisted the broken leg stretched out in front of him. The pain mixed with his anger and his thick brow furrowed as he clenched his jaw.

"You should have left me there," he hissed through grit teeth, "I'd rather face the fire than look at you."

"You would have died."

"Oh, so you can speak?" There was no avoiding him anymore, not his frown, nor the sweat beading on his forehead, nor the blood on his cheek. It wasn't his, she'd made sure of that. "Since my first two questions were impossible for you to lie your way through, I have one more. Why didn't you kill me?"

"I couldn't."

"You... you couldn't?" Brows raised, he tilted his head. "Why not? You didn't seem to have any trouble with my brothers. My uncle. My little cousin-"

"I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" Blue shouted, his fingers went white as his hands rolled into tight fists. "I swear to God if you say you didn't kill them, I will limp over there and strangle you where you sit."

"I didn't lay a hand on any of your people!"

"No! You're right. All you did was lead us into a massacre with no warning."

When the first tear fell, the second followed quickly. She hadn't blinked, but they fell anyway. One after the other. Until the tops of her legs were soaked through the heavy, black jean material.

"Don't you dare cry," Blue spat, his own eyes welling with tears, "You don't have the right. You can't cry for them. That's my responsibility, since you were so merciful as to save my life."

"I didn't want-"

He held up his hand, silencing her as he closed his eyes and turned away. "Stop. I thought I wanted to know why you did this, but I can't stand to hear your voice right now."

That was fair. At least, she knew she was supposed to think so. That would have been the acceptable reaction for her to have. It was fair he was angry with her. Beyond angry. Well into furious. It was fair he hated her for what happened to his family, his hunter clan. That was her mission. These were the casualties and consequences of her obedience. Except, they were also her friends. And none of it felt fair. Biting her bottom lip, Ursula winced as she shifted and attempted to apply pressure over her wound. Too large a space for her to cover it all, if she could slow the bleeding, she might heal enough to get them both out of the cottage and away from one another.

"I hope it hurts." He said it without looking her way. "I hope it hurts you for the rest of your life."

Bitterness painted her thoughts in dreary shades. It would. Even with the pressure, her tarry blood ran steadily from her ribs. The fact she got them both to the cottage without collapsing was a miracle. Without a proper bandage and some stitches at the very least, she would lose the body and return to hell. Where her real judgment awaited. Defeated, she chuckled silently at the thought of her lord staring down at her. Sentencing her to yet another death. More gruesome and final than the one she was experiencing. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, Blue was doing a fantastic job of making her suffer.

"You think this is funny." His gaze trained back on her, the same ire burned in his eyes. "You came into my life with the sole purpose ending me. And you have the audacity to laugh now."

"I'm not laughing at the end of your life." Her tired eyes met his before slowly dragging over towards the window. The harsh glow outside eased as the hellfire ebbed. "I'm laughing at the end of mine."

"What?"

Ursula lifted her arm and exposed the damage in all its severity. As Blue studied the injury, Ursula's vision wavered. That had to be the reason his expression seemed to shift and soften. Her human form was delirious from blood loss. There was no way in hell he'd care if she died. Shaking her head, she lowered her arm and massaged her temples before letting her arms drop to her sides.

"I was laughing because... you'll get your wish. Like I got mine."

"To destroy my clan?" he asked, voice tight with something more than fury and close to heartbreak.

"To keep you safe," she confessed. The swimming feeling in her head made the truth easier to speak without fear he'd rebuke it and her. Demons, apparently, weren't impervious to the morose and liberating effects of death. "What are you talking about?"

"During the fight, did you ever pause and wonder why you hadn't got hit once, until after they blasted me?" she snorted and let her head fall back against the cool stone. "Just think for a second."

"I don't-"

"Or maybe think back to before we got to the field tonight," she started and was interrupted by a coughing fit. When she finally drew air again, she continued through the burn gnawing at her ribs. "H-how many t-times... did I beg y-you to s-stop the car? Turn around? Go h-home?"

When he spoke, his voice was small. He looked small. The room shrunk around him. "I thought you were scared."

"I was."

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 8)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature 

A/N: It’s one of those rare times when I finish a chapter super quickly. It’s basically like seeing a unicorn, right? 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi@teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos

His legs burn as he runs up and down the sand, stopping and squatting each time he reaches a marker that he set out nearly an hour ago. He’s covered in sweat, the unexpected heat of Santa Monica in early April not helping matters, but even as his shorts cling to his thighs and his body feels like it’s not his own from the way his heart is thumping in his chest, he can’t stop until he’s finished. He needs the physical exertion to work out his frustrations, to clear his mind of anything and everything and just exist as someone who can do the things his workout asks of him.

Even when everything else in his life is frustrating and seems impossible, he knows that he can rely on pushing his body to its limits and controlling exactly what he does. It brings him a sense of comfort he didn’t always feel while exercising, but as his feet sink into damp sand only to be released and sink into soft, uneven ground that make his legs burn, he’s thankful for this. He’ll feel it later and regret pushing himself like this, but right now, he can’t imagine doing anything else.

When he’s finished with his reps, his body screaming in protest of moving more, he jogs into the depths of the ocean, letting the salty spray coat him in water and wipe away the sweat and cover him in salt while cooling him down. The water is still bloody cold compared to the heat of the day, but he doesn’t mind too much at this moment. He will if he stays too long, but he’s letting himself breathe and pretend that he’s alone like he has been for the past hour.

There’s a photographer hiding out in some sea grass up by the fences, something that has pissed him off beyond belief. This is all a private beach, and the man is trespassing. But it’s not worth it to confront him and risk the consequences of how the man will interpret his complaint when he calls into his seedy office with what he found, so he accepts that there will be photos of him online before he even manages to get inside and shower. It’s part of his life, no matter how much he hates it, and Robin did tell him he needed to be out in public more so things like this didn’t happen. But how fucking ridiculous is that? He shouldn’t have to go out a certain amount of times so paparazzi don’t invade his home to get pictures of him.

That’s just…it’s ludicrous.

It doesn’t help that he’s right pissed over a lot of his life right now. He hasn’t spoken to his brother in the week and a half since Emma left, and Elsa texted him earlier saying she’s coming over for lunch, which means he’s about to get a talking to from his brother’s wife. It’s not that he doesn’t love Elsa. He does. She’s one of his best mates, but much like his brother, she often treats him as a child despite them being the same age. He’s not sure if it’s the motherly figure in her or the fact that she spends her life with Liam, but sometimes he can’t take the way they talk down to him even if they are trying to help.

So he’s anxious and angry and so not feeling like being told to go apologize to Liam. It doesn’t help that the only time he’s really talked to Emma this week is when he caught her on her office phone yesterday and with random, inconsistent texts throughout the past few days. Last week was better, but their schedules and the time difference are mucking a lot up.

He wades out of the ocean, running his hands through his hair and trying to get some of the water out before he trudges inside, the uneven sand making his legs burn even more as the adrenaline wears down and he’s left feeling like weighed-down jelly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the photographer walk away, likely on his way to collect his paycheck for the pictures, and he sighs, resolving himself to this. It is what it is, as unfortunate as that saying is.

He bypasses going to get something to eat to head upstairs to shower, turning the knob for more hot water than cold and stripping down into nothing before stepping into the stone walls. Growing up, he remembers the apartment he and Liam shared having a shower that was barely large enough to breathe in, so the moment he was able to, he found a house with a shower large enough to move around in without hitting elbows or knocking his head against a glass door. So maybe he loves his shower a little too much, but he can feel himself relaxing as the steamed water hits his skin, washing away the sand, salt, and sweat.

As he washes himself, his mind begins to wander. And as it has for the past four months, it wanders to Emma. God, he misses her. He got so used to talking to her through a phone for nearly three months that he foolishly thought when she left that he’d be able to go back to that without too much issue. But that hasn’t happened in the slightest. There’s nothing that compares to seeing the way her mouth gapes open and her eyes crinkle when she laughs and watching how animated she gets when telling a story or eating dinner after not having eaten in hours. And there’s definitely nothing that compares to the softness of her lips or the feel of her skin moving against him.

It’s that thought that has his cock twitching to attention under the spray of the water, and he knows that he either has to take a cold shower or take care of this problem before Elsa comes over. They may be close, but his sister-in-law doesn’t need to see him with a constant bulge in his pants while he suffers through blue balls. So he takes himself in hand while thinking of his love, wishing it were her here in the shower with him, no matter how uncomfortable or unfortunately slippery that may be. It doesn’t take long, his body more keyed up than he thought, and as the pressure builds at the base of his spine, he attempts to block everything out but Emma and his memories of their one night together, coming on a stuttered gasp that makes his legs shaky and uneven in a way that his work out didn’t.

After he’s cleaned himself up from all of his morning’s activities, slathering himself down with body wash, he gets out of the shower and dresses in sweatpants and a t-shirt, not bothering when all he’s got to do today is meet Elsa here and then go to set tonight for filming. They’re so close to the finish line, only three more weeks, and as amazing as this project has been, he’s nearly ready for it to be over so he can take a break from working until promotions for the show to begin and before he has to start seriously looking for a new project. He has a few feelers out, knowing he can never really stop and that he never really wants to stop, but he thinks he may need a bit of a break.

He can also go see Emma when it’s over, and if anything, that’s making it seem like filming is lasting an eternity and some. How something lasts more than an eternity, he doesn’t know, but he’s apparently going to find out.  

When he makes it downstairs, his phone buzzes from where he left it on the coffee table in the living room, so he grabs it and flops down on the couch, letting his muscles relax from all of their exertion. Yeah, he’s definitely already feeling it. Work is going to be bloody torture tonight.

Emma: Update. I still have hands, and I only have 18 boxes of files to go!

Emma: My job is really fun sometimes.

Emma: And I’m totally treating myself to a giant milkshake after the gym today. So wrong and yet so right.

He chuckles under his breath, smiling at her messages and thinking about how good a milkshake would taste right now, strawberry topped with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. Yeah, he definitely isn’t supposed to eat something like that, but maybe he’ll get one at the end of the week too.

Killian: Do your milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard?

Emma: Damn right. It’s better than yours.

Killian: Don’t I know it?

Emma: Now I want the milkshake even more.

Emma: The literal milkshake. Not whatever euphemism that song is about.

He hears his garage door opening as he’s texting back, and in his distraction, he puts his phone back down on the coffee table, hoping up and going to meet Elsa at the door. When he opens his side door, he sees her getting Aiden out of his car seat, and a smile breaks out across his face seeing his nephew when he assumed Elsa was coming alone.

“Hey, love,” he greets Elsa, stepping down into the garage and kissing her cheek before doing the same to Aiden. “And hey, my bud,” he whispers, realizing he’s asleep. “I didn’t know you were bringing him today.”

“Liam’s at the office,” Elsa explains, handing a snoozing Aiden to Killian, the baby snuggling under Killian’s chin while he supports him and Elsa gets her purse and diaper bag out of her SUV, “and I figured you wouldn’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the next hour. Car rides do that to him.”

“I used to be the same way. That’s what mum always said from what I can remember.”

“Well, Aiden does favor you more than Liam, so we’re going to get in trouble if the similarities keep going.”

Elsa pats him on the shoulder before stepping inside, a smirk on her face. The woman jokes in the same way that his brother does, and he’s glad they have that with each other, even if they are both a little suggestive sometimes. Not that he can claim any differently. He’s likely worse than the two of them combined.

He follows Elsa inside, closing the door softly so as not to wake Aiden, and finds her already in the kitchen taking food out of his refrigerator and grabbing mixing bowls from their cabinets.

“What are you doing, lass?”

“Making fajitas. I saw that you had the stuff, I want them, and they’re easy enough.”

“We can just order in, El. You don’t have to make something.”

“I want fajitas, and we’re having fajitas while I talk to you about your brother because this is getting ridiculous. So will you please go put Aiden down in his crib upstairs? And don’t forget the baby monitor.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he laughs, heading toward the staircase and carefully walking to Aiden’s room, placing him in the crib and switching the monitor on before grabbing the corresponding device, heading back downstairs for what he’s sure will be an entirely unpleasant conversation no matter how soothing Elsa’s voice can be.

Elsa’s already got chicken on his stove, the sizzling meat heating up as he grabs them both glasses of water, cutting up the rest of the lemon Elsa was using and squeezing it into their glasses before propping himself up on the counter and waiting with an anxious knot in his stomach for Elsa to speak.

“So my husband was an asshole to you and your girlfriend.”

“That is an accurate statement.”

Elsa looks at him and rolls her eyes before focusing back on the stove. “Killian, Liam was wrong. I’ve only gotten his side of the story but even from what he’s said, I know he’s the one who messed up.”

“That is also an accurate statement.”

“Killian,” she admonishes, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him, “seriously. I know you’re pissed. You deserve to be pissed, but you can’t stay mad at Liam forever.”

“He fucking came into my house and threatened to call the police on my girlfriend, El. And then he acted all high and mighty, telling me that he knew best and that being with Emma isn’t a good idea. How the hell would he know what’s best for me?”

Fire burns in his belly as that morning comes back into his mind. It’s never really gone away, but standing here in the same place that he and Liam fought, flashes of words said and the arrogant look on Liam’s face come back to him. And then he remembers how despondent Emma looked, and how fucking pissed he is at his brother even if Emma and Elsa are trying to convince him to forgive Liam.

“It was a misunderstanding. He thought Emma was a fan who’d broken into your house. And I know he should have realized his mistake once you came down and explained everything, but can’t you understand where he was coming from?”

He huffs, putting his water down and crossing his arms over his chest. “I know he’s your husband and all, but I feel like you could try to see my side a little bit.”

“I do see your side, Killian. I’m trying to let you see his. Milah took advantage of you and destroyed you. You were barely yourself after her. You’ve had other women all take advantage of you and use you by saying they weren’t and weaseling their way into your life when really they were using you the entire time. You’re so trusting, Killian, and Liam and I don’t want you to get hurt like that again. He was trying to protect you.”

“But he doesn’t know Emma, and he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up as it dries from his shower. He knows Elsa’s right, but it doesn’t excuse what Liam did. He should be the one to be here explaining things. He knows that he told Liam not to talk to him until he was ready, but Liam usually does what he wants. He’s surprised Liam hasn’t barged into his house again and forced him to listen. “Do you know how badly he almost screwed things up for us? Emma has been burned by people before, badly El, and we had just gotten together. The fact that she didn’t break up with me that morning still surprises me. Hell, if I were her, I would have gotten on that plane and never looked back. She might still do that.”

Elsa turns off the stove and scrapes the chicken and vegetables into a bowl before coming over and standing next to him, looking up at him with her kind blue eyes and a genuine, soft smile that he’s come to associate with her. “Hey,” she soothes, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing, “you’re selling yourself short. If Emma is as wonderful as you think she is, she’s not going to give up on you. You’re sure about this one, aren’t you?”

“God help me, but I am. I love her, El,” he quietly admits, closing his eyes and trying to contain all of the emotions threatening to spill out of his eyes. “I’ve got no clue when or how this happened because she’sso not there yet, but I love her so damn much.”

“Then it’s going to be okay. Things between you and her are going to be okay. I think things between you and Liam will be okay when you’re ready for it. He’s waiting on you, surprisingly enough. I love him, but all of his huffing around the house is damn annoying. So feel free to yell at him for what he did sometimes soon.” Elsa squeezes his shoulder again before clapping her hands together. “Life has a funny way of working itself out. Now let’s eat and you can tell me all about this girl of yours since she apparently lives across the country, and I can’t go meet her.”

Elsa and Aiden leave when he goes to set, pulling out of the driveway at the same time that he does. He feels infinitely better about everything after talking to Elsa. She really is like a sister to him, maybe a bit like a mother, and as annoyed with his brother as he still is (even if it’s significantly less annoyed than he was a few hours ago), he knows that Liam deserves to have a partner as wonderful as Elsa to ground him and be there for him. He and Liam have been through a hell of a lot in life, but so far, they’ve always come out better on the other side.

He still feels like yelling at the wanker, but he knows he’s not going to be pissed at him forever.

He finishes filming the second to last episode of Highland Waters Monday morning around three, and as thrilled as he is to be close to finished with filming, he’s mostly thankful that they get a day and a half off. All he wants to do is sleep and stay burrowed away in his bedroom for thirty-six hours without any interruptions, but knowing his life, it’s not going to happen, especially since Robin and Will are coming over to watch the United match tomorrow afternoon.

Why the hell did he agree to that?

“Because you need to spend time with your bloody mates,” he murmurs to himself as he walks in his garage door, dropping his keys in their dish and disabling his alarm system. “And now you’re talking to yourself because you’ve gone mad.”

He chuckles under his breath, fully accepting the hysteria and sleep deprived delusion before making his way upstairs and to his bedroom. His legs feel like lead, weighing him down as he walks, and he doesn’t bother changing before plopping down on the mattress and pulling his comforter up over his body while trying to find something to watch on his TV since he’s sure it’ll take him awhile to fall asleep tonight.

His phone buzzes on his lap, and he knows the only person who could possibly be texting at three in the morning is Emma who must be up getting ready to go to work.

Emma: Facetime tonight?

Killian: Yeah. Everything good?

Emma: I’m fine. Just want to see your face.

He snickers to himself before lifting his phone in the air and snapping a picture of himself, the flash makes his eyes squint closed, and when he looks at the picture, he has one eye blown open while the other is entirely closed, the lines around his face prominent as the light washes him out. His hair is another story. He looks ridiculous, but he sends the picture to her anyways.

Emma: Woah, you’re looking nice this morning.

Killian: I prefer devilishly handsome.

Killian: I just got home from work. I haven’t had my beauty sleep yet.

Emma: Well, you need it KJ. It’s rough.

Killian: Minx.

Emma: You know it.

When he opens that text there’s a picture of Emma with half of her hair curled, the other half pinned to the top of her head, and her blouse unbuttoned to show her bra. She’s got a piece of toast in her mouth, and he smiles getting a little bit of a glimpse into her morning routine.

Killian: Are you sure you got your beauty sleep there, Swan?

He waits for his phone to buzz, continuously checking to see if the bubbles showing Emma’s texting back pop up, but they never do. He figures she just got distracted getting ready for work, so he doesn’t think too much about it, tossing his phone onto the mattress and settling himself in to watch Jessica Jones. It’s really a dumb choice for him to watch because he’ll get caught up in it, but as time passes, the fatigue begins to catch up with him and he falls asleep.

He wakes to his doorbell ringing, and as he groggily rolls over and fumbles for his phone. In his dreary state, it takes him a moment to find his security app, but when he does he can very clearly see Liam standing on his front porch and swaying back and forth while he messes with the hem of his t-shirt. Groaning, he throws his covers off of him and stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping on his pants as he makes his way downstairs and to his front door, swinging it open and standing face to face with his brother for the first time in over two weeks.

“You have a key,” he huffs, wiping away at the sleep in his eyes before stepping back and silently telling Liam to come inside.

Liam shrugs, his face completely neutral as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Didn’t exactly go well the last time I used it, so I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to have to call the police on you for being somewhere where you’re allowed access.” Liam grimaces, the words obviously having their intended effect. If he wanted a better reaction, he shouldn’t have come when Killian was just waking up from getting to sleep. He’s much kinder when he’s slept. “Why are you here, Liam?”

“Can we sit down?”

“Aye.” He walks toward the living room and settles down in his recliner, crossing his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow at the way Liam can’t seem to settle on a spot to sit. He finally does, taking the end of the couch furthest away from Killian. “So, why are you here?”

“I’m heading to New York for a conference tonight, and I didn’t want to go while we were still fighting. It’s been two weeks, little brother. It’s time we talk.”

“Younger,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while trying to calm himself down and prepare himself for this. He calmed about it after Elsa’s visit, but he’s still pissed. “I’m younger, and you know that. But fine. Talk Liam.”

“I fucked up Killian, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that it?”

Letting out his breath, he sighs, running his hand through his hair and causing the curls to stick up on the right side. “I fucked up. I treated you like you were a kid when you’re not, haven’t been in years. I was wrong to treat Emma that way. I was wrong to treat you that way. It’s inexcusable.”

“Well, just…Liam, you can’t do shit like that anymore. I’m not the kid I used to be. I know what I’m doing. I love you so damn much, and I love that you’re trying to protect me – ”

“But?”

“But what happened isn’t okay. I told El this already, but you could have screwed up one of the best things to happen to me before it even really began. Emma isn’t taking advantage of me. She’s not a psycho fan. She’s someone who understands me, which is not something I get a lot.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I obviously wasn’t. I was a right wanker, and I’m really hoping you won’t think that about me forever.”

“Liam, I’m always going to think that about you.”

“Shut it, Killian.”

“No,” he laughs, the tightness in his chest loosening a bit as Liam’s apology begins to sink in, “You fucked up my life for a few days and made my girlfriend nearly end it all, so I fully plan on making you earn your forgiveness.”

“So your girlfriend, huh? That’s official now?”

God, he can’t believe how quickly the conversation changed, the emotional charge changing into brotherly teasing, but that’s always been how the two of them are. They say what they need to say, see if they can accept it, and then try to move on.

“Well, I believe we decided to call each other lovers, but yes.”

Liam groans and his face scrunches up in disgust that causes Killian to chuckle. “Should I even ask?”

“Probably better if you didn’t. Wouldn’t want you choking on your own saliva.”

Liam laughs a bit, closing his eyes and shaking his head back and forth in amusement. His shoulders are less tense than when he walked in, and Killian notices that his are too. “So are we good, Killian? Do you need to punch me? Knock out my teeth? Tell me to fuck off about ten more times? I’m willing to suffer through all of it.”

“We’re good,” he promises, really and truly meaning it. He had begun to forgive Liam before he even showed up today, but hearing the words solidifies it for him. “But if you ever do something like that again, it’s not going to be this simple, Liam. And if Emma ever comes back here, you owe her one hell of an apology after she tells you to fuck off ten times and possibly knocks out your teeth. She deserves at least that.”

“Aye, I know. I deserve at least that too.”

“Great,” Killian sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face. “When’s your flight? Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“In three hours, and I’ve got my car.”

“Cutting it kind of close there. What would have happened if I hadn’t been the best man in the world and forgiven you so easily?”

“I’d have missed the bloody flight until you did.”

Liam leaves after they talk a bit more, the normalcy of their relationship returning and causing him to feel much better about everything. He knows that forgiveness doesn’t happen in a day and there will be times when their relationship is stilted, but that’s the thing with his family. He’s only got Liam. He’s always had Liam. Through the years they’ve gotten into more arguments than he can count, but at the end of the day they have each other’s backs despite the fact that they can both royally fuck things up.

He wants to fall back asleep now that he has the house to himself, but he finds himself full of energy. So he fixes himself a cup of coffee, waking his body up more, before deciding to clean the house. It’s been a long time since he deep cleaned everything. He’s usually tidy, his house never really a mess, but he needs to clean the bathrooms and wipe down his kitchen counters. He should probably change all of the sheets in the bedrooms too.

So that’s exactly what he does, turning on the speaker system in his house and blaring music while cleaning absolutely everything that he can. He’s covered in sweat and his back hurts by the time he’s halfway finished that evening, and he’s determined to power through the master bath. That’s when his phone rings and he remembers Emma and her request to facetime.

He scrambles to his phone, missing her first call, so he plops down on his sheet free bed and calls her back, the screen showing his face until she picks up. She looks…exhausted. Her hair is pushed back into a bun, tendrils falling from where she’s probably scratched at her scalp all day, and she’s removed her makeup. He wouldn’t usually notice, but she has a black streak across her eyebrow where she very obviously wiped her mascara off and accidentally marked through her brow.

“Hey, love,” he smiles, pushing some of his hair to the side in an attempt to make himself not so…disheveled. He’s been disinfecting the house, but really, he needs a shower to make himself clean. “How was your day?”

Emma huffs and rolls her eyes in what he’s decided is her signature move when annoyed, so it obviously wasn’t good. “In a word, awful. You?”

“I talked to Liam today, sorted through our whole mess, and he’s very graciously agreed to let you knock his teeth out and tell him to fuck off next time you’re here.”

Her lips twitch the slightest bit, like she wants to smile but can’t. “That’s so good, KJ. I’m happy for you.”

Her voice isn’t…it’s not Emma.

“Emma, what’s going on with you?

Her lips go from twitching to quivering, and she wipes at the tears slowly spilling from her eyes. His heart plummets at the sight even if he knows that’s physically impossible, and he’d give anything to not be three thousand miles away from Boston. But he is, and there’s nothing he can do to change that right now.

Emma has said time and time again that she’s not a crier, so seeing her break down like this concerns him on more levels than one.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, whispering into the phone in the most soothing voice he can muster while he watches her sniffle on the other end of the line, “Emma darling, it’s fine. You’re fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It w-was…it was just a bad day. It’s stupid.”

“Never, Swan.”

She laughs, but it’s a watery chuckle that gets caught in her throat and somehow manages to travel to Santa Monica and land in his stomach.

“I miss you,” she sighs, looking into the camera with bright green eyes and wet lashes.

“Now, love, how could you missing me ever be stupid?”

“Because I’ve only ever seen you in person twice. Shouldn’t there be some kind of rule about that? You can’t miss someone you barely know.”

That stings, but he tries not to grimace or say something harsh in retaliation. He should have figured that Emma being so openly vulnerable would come with complications and hesitation. He just didn’t prepare himself for it. But this is how she deals with things, and letting her do that is something he has to do. He can’t expect her to handle things in the same way he does. They’re different people, and that would be ridiculous.

“Hey,” he soothes instead of saying all of the words piling up in his mind, “we do know each other.”

“But do we? I just…I feel lost today.”

“I know that your favorite color is red, you say your favorite food is grilled cheese but you actually prefer cheeseburgers with no toppings, your favorite movie is the Princess Diaries because you always hoped that you’d find a long lost family, especially one with a grandmother as cool as Julie Andrews. Um, let’s see, let’s see. What else? You wear a size seven shoe, but you go half a size bigger with your heels for swelling. You have trouble sleeping at night if you have coffee past six in the evening. You can sing bloody brilliantly, but you only sing in the shower because you don’t think you’re very good.”

“Killian, those are all – ”

“No, no, darling. Let me finish. I have a lot of stored Emma Swan information up in this brain of mine, and I intend on using it if only to prove a damn point to you.”

She sniffles again before hiccupping, and that’s a little better than before. Especially when she smiles.

“Your feet are ice cold at all times, so that’s why you’re always in socks. You have a dot tattoo on your wrist because you freaked out about the needle, which is one of my favorite things about you. When you get playfully irritated, you scrunch up your nose in the most adorable little position. When you’re actually irritated, your lips form into a straight line and you may as well be able to shoot a laser beam with your eyes. You’ve got a bloody brilliant smile that makes me happy simply looking at it, even happier to be on the receiving end of it. Your kiss usually tastes like a mixture of your peppermint toothpaste and those bloody pop tarts, but sometimes it tastes like peppermint and the hot chocolate you love, with cinnamon of course.”

“Killian,” she pleads, her voice breaking in ways that he didn’t expect it to. He hopes he didn’t take it too far, make her too uncomfortable, but the words spewed off of his tongue without him thinking of more than letting her know that he does know her. “I…thank you. I know it was dumb to suggest we don’t know each other. We’ve talked to each other for, like, five months, but I feel like I’m failing at this. And the long distance doesn’t help. Ruby and Mary Margaret…I, well, I finally opened up to them about everything with us, but today has been so damn hard. I wish you were here.”

“Me too, love.” He softly smiles into the phone while he hears his washing machine ding downstairs, the small tune playing to indicate he needs to move the sheets to the dryer. “I bloody miss you. God, it’s insane how much, but in two weeks I’m coming to Boston, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Swan?”

She sighs, her eyes fluttering closed before opening back up. “So at work I haven’t always been in fundraising and relationships. When I first started, I worked with the kids. I’m not qualified to be a counselor or anything, but I’d talk to them, you know? I know what it’s like to be alone, and I like to think they found comfort in it.”

“They had to have, Emma. It’s so different listening to someone who’s experienced the things you have, who understands.”

“Yeah, but, um, there was this kid a few years ago. Her name was Alex, and I kind of took her under my wing. She was in between foster homes and staying at one of the facilities. The kid was brilliant, could do math like no one I’d ever seen, and we found her a good home. But I just found out she’s been arrested for theft, and the cops ended up finding out she’d been a dealer. That’s at least what David said. So I don’t know. I know a lot of kids fall down those roads because they don’t see any other option, but this one just hit me hard today, or yesterday really because that’s when I found out.”

He sighs, nodding in understanding. Emma’s obviously had a rough few days, and he wishes that he had the words to comfort her. There’s no preparing for things like that, and situations that hit you out of nowhere can often knock the breath out of you. She looks so small, broken, and that’s not Emma. She’s strong in her vulnerability. Not weak in it. Never.

“You’ve got a big heart, Emma Swan. You may not realize it, but you do. You help others every damn day, and while I wish Alex hadn’t gone through all of this, it doesn’t mean you didn’t help. Or that one day her life might turn around.”

“I just wish I could have done more.”

“You did everything you can.”

“How do you know that?”

“Like I said earlier, darling, I know you.”

“Oi, why don’t you have any beer, mate?”

“Because you were supposed to bring it, Will.”

“Bloody hell, no I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were, mate,” Robin adds in as he plops down in Killian’s favorite recliner, seemingly not at all bothered with the way he’s taking the spot Killian always sits in. “You bring beer. I bring food. Killian provides the telly because he makes a hell of a lot more money than all of us.”

“You make a portion of what I make, Rob,” he laughs, yanking the blanket off of Robin’s feet and sitting down on the couch with Will, “so I know that you can afford a nice television.”

“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have an excuse to come over here and bother you.”

“Which isn’t anyway entertaining without beer.”

“Bloody hell, Will,” Killian sighs, throwing his head back against the couch while he finds the United game online, “I have rum, whiskey, wine, tequila. I just don’t have beer, and that is one hundred percent your fault. Just go find something if you can’t watch a noon match sober.”

“Geez,” Will whistles, staring at him with his eyebrows practically in his shaved hairline, “I was messing with you. You okay there, Jones?”

“I’m fine. Honestly.” He shrugs, smiling at his mates before looking back at the TV. “I guess I’m still a bit exhausted. These hours have been killing me, and I was up late last night.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he lies, not wanting to tell them about last night simply because he doesn’t want to share Emma’s private emotions with them. She’s trusting him with so much, and he doesn’t want to be the man who lets her down. He doesn’t want to be like all of the others. “So how badly do you think we’re going to kick Arsenal’s arse? Or do you think we’ll have our arses handed to us?”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh, there’s a little bit of a chance.”

Will eventually settles on a glass of rum, bringing the bottle with him to the living room as well as the bowl of burned popcorn that’s making his entire house smell. Will is a bit of an eclectic taste, the two of them really only friends because of Robin, but his life would be a hell of a lot less entertaining without him.

He’d have more rum, but his life would have one less sarcastic Brit.

There’s only so many of them in Southern California, but he’s obviously hoarding them all to watch football matches with him. United kicks Arsenal’s arse, and his house is likely louder than any in the neighborhood.

“Fucking ref,” Will hollers, getting up from the couch and standing in front of the TV as if the ref will be able to hear him back in England. “You can’t make calls like that.”

“Oi, William, sit down.”

Will shoots Robin a look, his eyes becoming slits while his lips purse. “My name isn’t William, Robin, and I am not Roland. You can’t put me in time out.”

“You’re standing in front of the bloody screen, mate. Even Roland knows not to do that.”

Will huffs before collapsing back against the couch, the pillows falling to the floor as the sofa is knocked back a few inches, and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s okay,” Killian teases him, reaching over and patting his knee. “Robin tells me what to do all of the time. It’s because he’s so much older than us and thinks he’s a father figure when really he’s just old.”

“I am four years older than you.”

“That’s a lot of years, mate.”

“Just shut up and watch the game.”

Killian snickers at his friends before pulling his phone out of his back pocket. It’s been buzzing for the past few minutes, but he’s been too entertained by his friends to check.

Emma: Do you like baseball or is that too American for you?

Emma: Also, how drunk are you and the guys over this game?

Killian: Will is tipsy. Robin and I are fine. I’ve got work and all. And I love baseball. Why?

Emma: I’d say it’s a surprise, but I’m obviously taking you to a baseball game when you’re here.

Killian: Are you sure we’re going to want to leave the bedroom?

Emma: …

Emma: Calm it down, Casanova. We can knock each other’s socks off and still watch the Sox.

He snorts underneath his breath, somehow amused and aroused at the same time, and when he looks up from his phone, both Will and Robin are staring at him.

“Is that Emma?”

“Dude, you’re blushing.”

“Oi, shut it, Will. And it is. We’re working on plans for when I go to Boston in two weeks.”

“So you’re sexting?”

“Will,” Robin groans, throwing a pillow across the room, “just because you have no filter doesn’t mean Killian doesn’t.”

“What? I’m just curious. I’m the only one who hasn’t met the girl, and I want to meet the woman who makes Killian blush.”

“You will. I promise. We’re going to map out our schedules when I’m there, so she’ll come back here eventually.”

“Sounds serious, mate.”

He shrugs, not really sure how else to answer but with the truth. “It is.”

Killian: I like the way you think, love. I’m all for rounding the bases.

Emma: Impressive double entendre.

Killian: You could say it’s a home run.

Emma: Hitting it out of the ballpark, KJ.

“Yeah,” Will sighs, “you’ve got it bad, dude.”

[jims-h]

Rose/Pink explanation & theory

Okay so I start by saying I'm french sorry for my mistakes and NOW LET'S GET STARTED WITH MY THEORY ABOUT THE NEW EPISODES We now know that Pink Diamond is Rose Quartz so, we can start by explaining WHY and HOW we could have seen that before !

Rose has always been seen as a little wild and childish, first when Pearl and Greg said « she always did what she wanted », for exemple, or when she takes baby Sour Cream to the big wheel without thinking about the consequences ! When we first see Pink Diamond, she is acting like a obnoxious brat, and when we think about it : Pink Diamond started the revolution and the war JUST because she wanted to be free and to have her own planet and to live like she wanted without a care for all the gems that will be shattered on the battlefield !! So, it seems logical if you see it like that.

BUT ALSO, I saw other theories that are really logical to ! For exemple, because she had to shapeshift to « kill » her diamond, Pearl can't stand shapeshift anymore ! Also, we can see that Yellow Pearl loves her diamond, as much as Blue Pearl loves her's, and here, well, Rose Pearl loves her diamond, always did, always will ! Maybe Pearls are programmed to love their diamond no matter what so that all the authorities can assure themselves the greatest loyalty and confidence from their closest gem, wich are their pearls servants. AND , when Pearl teached Connie how to be a « knight », she teached her how to protect a diamond, not any other little noble gem, she teached Connie how to be Steven's Pearl (this part of the theory do not come from me but I can't find the one who wrote this on tumblr sorry) !

AND EXCUSE ME BUT IT MEENS STEVEN IS ACTUALLY PINK DIAMOND GUYS LIKE WOW SHIT

But let's go back on track, Pink Diamond was a brat and Rose Quartz has always acting selfish, so it makes sense ! And like a brat who wants to be a princess who's about to get married to the charming prince, Pink Diamond shapeshift into a Rose Quarts that looks like one.

THAT'S NOT ALL, when we first sam Pink Diamond, everyone was like « pink diamond is a off color » but NO, because the diamonds will have NEVER bother themselves with such an embarrassement ! No no no, Pink Diamond was never a off-color, and as soon as we saw White Diamond's claws, we can be sure of it !! White Diamond's hand is really big compared to Yellow and Blue Diamond's ones ! So it makes me come to the next explanation which is the Great Authority looks like this : White Diamond's emblem on top, Blue's and Yellow's on the sides and Pink's at the bottom ! Of course you understood by now but it is this way because of their differents side AND MAYBE because of the emplacement of their gems (but we will be sure of this when we'll FINALLY see White Diamond).

IT'S NOT OVER YET : we can maybe understand better why Rose was so « powerfull » and why Pink looked so « powerless ». Rose has the ability to heal gems, and her weapon were a shield. But, RoseQuartz wasn't really a quarts, she was a diamond, so these abilities were Pink's one. How convenient for Pink ! When she started the war, all the Rose Quartz got bubbled inside the zoo. But we can see that these were PINK bubbles. Pink knew that if she the other diamonds heard of the rebel RoseQuartz's ability to heal with her tears, they will understand, so she bubbled all the other RoseQuartz so that no one could make any comparaison.

NOT TO MENTION, that it can lead us to understand better the Great Authority. Pink Diamond looks weak, almost like a off-Colors, she doesn't look respectable or powerfull at all, not like the other diamonds, she looks like any other gems. But she's not, she has the power to heal gem and to create a shield. She is a PROTECOR. She is a diamond and she has great power, even if it's not in a muscular and strong way, and if she can shapeshift permanently, well damn she has enromous power. She is the Diamond Who Protects and Heals, it's not that she's not powerfull, it's that she doesn't need to be strong and big, because she doesn't need to, her role is to be pretty, to be kind, to be loving, she is supposed to be the « good cop » among the diamonds, she is a healer and a protector. We don't know yet White's personality but, Yellow is the Iron Face, the Authority incarnates. Blue is cold but she might be clever and her role could have been anything before she get so devastated by Pink's shattering.

AND WHY IS BLUE SO DEPRESSED ABOUT IT ? Well, we just got to understand why. Not long before Pink's shattering, Blue is getting angry at her and tell her that Rose Quartz can't hurt her. Which is true because they are the same person, but Blue doesn't know, for Blue, Rose killed Pink and she told Pink she didn't have to worry just before. Blue is feeling guilty. She told Pink she was a Diamond and that she has nothing to do except being pretty by smiling and waving (wich connects to what I said just before).

And to conclude, another little clue was of course that, the place were Rose met Lion for the first time, and the place where she was hiding her secrets and stuff, in the middle of a sand desert, was also the place where a homeworld’s pink space ships, which REALLY could and does belong to Pink. Plus, it also explains why Steven can cry Blue’s tears, he is a diamond too after all...

That's ALL. My boyfriend is angry cause he thinks it's not logical and doesn't explain anything but, actually it does !

Even if, I must admit, doesn't change the fact that Rose/Pink was a selfish and awful person, who lied and fooled everyone, forcing Pearl's to keep this awful secret and to lie to.

[espvcio]

hello there sunshines   !   it’s me again, dallas . . . i’m also playing this dumb ass and i’d love for any plots with him too. also still like to be friends   !  if you’d like to plot, feel free to like this post and i’ll gladly hit you up, or just message me heh. i’m working on updating the wanted connections page so i’ll add that later. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

alvaro alarcón was born and raised in valencia, spain. growing up between beaches and palm trees, the everlasting warmth of the sun, the sand between his toes and afternoons spent in jardin del turia. the landscapes of the mountains in the distance and the utter calm that valencia had still remains to be his dream image and the place he enjoys calling home most, even when los angeles became a second home to him with ease. when the spaniard, at the age of eleven, made the move across the atlantic ocean with his family, the transition had been smoother than he had hoped for initially. he tended to hear spanish around him, especially since his aunt and uncle had already lived in the states and were the perfect bridge between improving his english and feeling at home at the sound of spanish. not even the landscape was altered much, with the rays of sunshine on most days of the year, perfect temperatures and beaches only minutes away.

the alarcón family is notorious however, mostly for their size. alvaro grew up a family man, and perhaps that is due to the many siblings he has. being the second youngest, he has four older siblings and one younger brother. alejandro, ana and pablo, of respectively 32, 27 and 26, are his older siblings. his younger brother, the nineteen year old rafael, is the one he feels closest to. he always shared a room with his younger brother, with the middle class family living in los angeles leaving a little less room than they desired in the house they had. it were paired with the regular fights over playstation controllers, or who would be allowed a second portion for dinner first. or the hourly fights over privacy, the others constantly being around you. their family is hectic, chaotic, living in a house that only portrays the mess they are. anyone from the outside entering the household, hearing loud voices arguing over the sound of mama alarcón cooking in the kitchen and someone else streaming their music too loudly in their room would figure they were dysfunctional. however alvaro would not wish for things to be different. the close proximity they always had, the quite literal proximity, also enabled him to get to know his siblings and his parents like the back of his hand. their personas are like a second nature to him, he understands them without words, they understand him with a mere look of those hazel eyes. it feels effortless, even though it is not   —   perhaps though, the effort feels worth it to all of them. family comes first in every situation to him, would in a heartbeat agree that blood is indeed thicker than water, and would give the world to see any of them happy. no matter the cost, he aims to see smiles on their faces. he might not see them every day, ever since he moved out for college. and the other family members might have wandered across the state more, yet there is the unconditional love that runs through the alarcón family.

as the family moved to los angeles when alvaro was eleven, he entered high school. he struggled more than usual with the language, perhaps therefore never entirely found his place in the courses that were entirely dependent on his language skills. never found himself interested in the stories of history, the explanations of geography, the beauty of language and translation. he were always distracted, struggling to keep his focus on the subjects that barely interested him, became so difficult upon the sudden change of language and barely passed any of them. high school, however, did open the doors for alvaro to discover what he was passionate about. perhaps it were the universal language of numbers and formulas that initially attracted him, yet he were immediately more drawn to the hard sciences. long nights, hard work and many many classes further, he mastered the art of physics, chemistry and math. the numbers seem to make sense in his head more than words to, especially as a boy who struggled with expressing his thoughts eloquently in a language other than his mother tongue.

his love for these subjects, and especially the influence of his dad, also sparked his interest in what now is the one thing dominating his life. he’s an astrophile, fond of the stars, the galaxies, the moon and the world beyond what is known. from a young age the dreams of becoming an astronaut were starting to appear, only dreaming of what setting foot on the moon would be like. not only feeling weightless, but as if he were indestructible. his father had been a high school physics teacher back in spain. he remembers the evenings they used to build their own telescopes together, sit in the garden behind their house and look up at the bright, clear sky to try and see whether they could identify orion. or whether he could spot his star sign, sagittarius. it were a bonding activity for the both of them, something that gave alvaro a step forward in comparison to his other siblings. but from very early on, these were dreams, interests and things he grew to love over the years. his dreams were empowering, even when they were merely dreams. he would not move on to be an astronaut, neither is that the aim anymore. after his high school graduation, he moved on to become an undergrad student in astronomy at ucla, and now moved on to become a graduate student in astrophysics. combining both what he considers to be the love of his life, and the numbers that make sense to him in his mind so easily.

it would be a lie to say that alvaro does not dream of working for nasa in the future. currently he is quite occupied, doing his research at the local observatory, being a teacher assistant and giving lectures in mostly physics and astronomy. it still remains however his goal in life to once be able to say he works for the biggest space organization in the world. although perhaps he is also quite intrigued by the secrets area 51 holds.

his persona in one word can be described as juvenile. far into his twenties, his soul can still be compared to that of a child. impulsive, reckless or perhaps even tactless, the spaniard is one that does not realize his own or others’ limits. it could be questioned whether he ever grew up, whether he ever matured. he fails to understand there are consequences to certain actions, avoids conflict like it’s the black plague and the act of fighting is something he dislikes more than he does waking up early. he would rather flee than face the consequences of his own actions, and most definitely does not deal with them like an adult should. alvaro lives in his own idealistic world in which he decides the rules, no one else does. in which he does not carry the burden or the responsibility, but everyone around him does. where he never lost the comfort of family, of others looking out for him.

by now, he might even be afraid to grow up. his birthday is a day he would dread if it were not for the celebrations bringing together his family and friends. the only numbers he doesn’t like, are those of his age. slowly but surely losing grip of the safety of the people around him, having to discover uncharted waters ... it scares him, it frightens him and it is something he wishes to avoid at all costs.

this same juvenile phase is also combined however with a way of living life that is carefree. he carries a childlike enthusiasm for adventure, for exploration and for the unknown. he seeks things that others would not dare to get involved with, is an optimist by nature and never fails to bring a smile to his own face. perhaps coincidentally as well, he is truly a disney fan with peter pan being his ultimate favourite movie.

similarly, the boy is notorious for being a fool. he does not fear, he enjoys or perhaps craves being the center of attention and does not know the definition to the word shame. in the end, looking back on his family situation, you could say that his behaviour had always been heightened as a way to seek the attention he wanted. to stand out, to attract all attention to himself, to put himself forward. even among family he is notorious for his reckless actions, his ways of failing to see when danger could strike, for failing to see shame or possible embarrassment in any situation. perhaps it only gives him a more positive outlook on life, where he feels as if he is on top of the world in every situation, yet it also brings the opportunity for him to fall hard, for it to absolutely crush him seeing the reality of the world compared to what he envisions himself.

some headcanons then   !   first of all, he’s a natural flirt. he carries some kind of natural charm that gives him this constant flirtatious look. he is completely unaware and perhaps that only worsens it. he would flirt with your mother in front of you and be completely clueless about it. perhaps similarly, he also has issues identifying the very thin line between interest and possibly love. he barely had any serious relationships throughout the years, perhaps never feeling as passionately in love, merely entertained by the chase. alvaro falls in love hard and fast, and once he does however there’s no going back from it.

he’s a gigantic football fan, and has always supported fc barcelona. despite growing up a bit to the south of the city, as a young boy he grew up watching the heroes such as andres iniesta and lionel messi, playing for the club he grew to love. he has visited them a few times when he still lived in spain, and still wears his jersey with pride whenever the team is playing. 

some more random ones . . . he’s got the ultimate dream date being a picnic in the park or at the beach followed by stargazing at night. perhaps utterly romantic for a boy who does not date, however he’s just a sucker for the bright night sky. his favourite colour is green, as it reminds him of the outside, of creativity, of optimism. he always said to himself he would move back to spain the minute he could, never feeling entirely at home in los angeles. it were a great second but would never become the first. yet recently he started to change his mind more, settling down in the city, having a job, his own small apartment in the city centre and perhaps the realization that those two worlds ain’t all that different. is a gigantic lightweight, can not hold his alcohol. will drink two beers on a slightly empty stomach and drags on your arm because he wants to go skinny dipping in your neighbours’ pool. also loves karaoke, he’s not a killer singer but he’s a stage presence  (  also a total sucker for the 80s and 90s classics  ).

[poorquentyn]

Hi there! You have said it multiple times that Doran is a man caught between his desire for vengeance and his caution for not losing lives (idk if I am phrasing it right). I agree wholly that Doran is not the chess-master and his plans are bad. but can you please, please explain how this failure to reconcile his desires and his caution actually led to Quentin dying, or the Queenmaking or the new plan with the Sand Snake infiltration thing? sorry if it's a dumb question.

Not a dumb question at all! The core problem with Doran’s approach is that he doesn’t give his children—who are not merely useful agents but the central pillars of his plan—the resources they need to succeed, and that’s rooted in the war going on in his head between acting on behalf of his murdered family and holding back on behalf of the children of the Water Gardens. Barristan sums it up best: “Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear.”

So, how does this play out with Arianne and Quentyn? Sam lays out for us in the first book how you groom an heir:

“When I was little, my father used to insist that I attend him in the audience chamberwhenever he held court. When he rode to Highgarden to bend his knee to Lord Tyrell, hemade me come. Later, though, he started to take Dickon and leave me at home, and heno longer cared whether I sat through his audiences, so long as Dickon was there. Hewanted his heir at his side, don’t you see? To watch and listen and learn from all he did.”

This is what Doran failed to do with Arianne. Instead, he pushed her away, both emotionally and politically. Compare Arianne to Margaery, who was raised to play this role in a way that nourished and encouraged her own talents, to the point where she could be trusted to be in on the Purple Wedding (which she was). Doran talks about his mother molding him as a leader. Where was that for him and Arianne? While she definitely bears responsibility for the decisions involved in the queenmaking, that event was symptomatic of a long-running problem with how Doran viewed Arianne and her role in his plan. It brought that pre-existing tension to the surface, forcing him to recognize and talk about it in “The Princess in the Tower.” 

Why did it take that long? Because he was afraid the Lannisters would find out. Which I get: if they find out, the children of the Water Gardens might die. But the long-term consequences are that he alienated someone he really needed on the inside and failed to give her what she needs to play her part in his plan. Everything he doesn’t trust about her makes his plan look that much worse, because his plan depends so much on her. She needed to be an ally, not a puppet; Doran puts it all on her “nature,” but where’s the nurture? Arianne’s very clever and has some great political instincts along with the not-so-great ones (as we see in her released TWOW chapters), and if Doran wishes she was better at conspiring, well, as Sam would point out, maybe he should’ve brought her into the council chamber instead of leaving her on the party planning committee. Maybe he should’ve put those books in her room when she was a child, instead of waiting until she was twenty-three. It’s the equivalent of “no one will hire you because you don’t have any work experience.” Doran’s fretting about Arianne not being a great conspirator, without acknowledging that he never taught her to conspire��because of his conspiracy. What tangled webs we weave, and so on.

And then there’s Quentyn’s quest. If there’s one thing Prince Doran doesn’t lack for, it’s contacts in Essos: he’s cut secret deals with the Sealord of Braavos and the Archon of Tyrosh, he has spies in Lys and (via Lady Nym) potentially contacts among the Old Blood, he has Oberyn’s time there to draw upon, and of course, Mellario lives in Norvos. Doran easily could’ve made use of these resources to ease Quent’s passage, to make his appearance before Dany more formidable, to compensate for Quent himself not being an ideal candidate (and also really, really not wanting to do it).

Doran arranged for precisely none of this, instead sending Quent with a minimal crew in secret, because of, again, the risk that the Lannisters might find out what he’s up to. And again, I get it. But the result was Doran went half-in on the plan, which in this case was arguably worse than not doing it at all. Quest’s quest had already gone horribly wrong before the dragontaming; that was the cherry on top of the nightmare sundae. Dany refused him in part because his offer was so unimpressive, especially in context with his entourage and presentation, and in part because he came too late—and why did he come too late? Because he lost so much time in Volantis and then the Astapor/Yunkai area just trying to get there, improvising at every step, and it simply didn’t have to be that way. Yes, Doran sent Cletus Yronwood and Maester Kedry to run things, but that’s not enough because of precisely what happened—they got killed and there was no backup plan. Good plans have backups, redundancies, multiple avenues of reaching one’s goal. This was a bad plan, consisting of sending Quent into a war zone and wishing him good luck. Quent, like Arianne, ultimately is responsible for what he did after the plan failed, but he was so desperate in large part because his father impressed upon him that the fate of Dorne depended on his success. Not for nothing is this how GRRM has Quent express his anguish, near the end: “Father, why?”

Let me say again: I thoroughly sympathize with Doran’s motivations. I think he’s a highly intelligent and good-hearted man working through heavy shit and doing his best to bring justice. That Doran is haunted by his murdered relatives is entirely relatable, but I think it’s leading him to fail the ones who are still alive. 

[dfroza]

(Clarity)

is an act of grace in the cleansing of the heart (inside, Anew)

and we see this truth in words written down and the significance of conserving such in Today’s reading of chapter 3 from the Letter of Romans as shared by Paul:

So what difference does it make who’s a Jew and who isn’t, who has been trained in God’s ways and who hasn’t? As it turns out, it makes a lot of difference—but not the difference so many have assumed.

First, there’s the matter of being put in charge of writing down and caring for God’s revelation, these Holy Scriptures. So, what if, in the course of doing that, some of those Jews abandoned their post? God didn’t abandon them. Do you think their faithlessness cancels out his faithfulness? Not on your life! Depend on it: God keeps his word even when the whole world is lying through its teeth. Scripture says the same:

Your words stand fast and true;

Rejection doesn’t faze you.

But if our wrongdoing only underlines and confirms God’s rightdoing, shouldn’t we be commended for helping out? Since our bad words don’t even make a dent in his good words, isn’t it wrong of God to back us to the wall and hold us to our word? These questions come up. The answer to such questions is no, a most emphatic No! How else would things ever get straightened out if God didn’t do the straightening?

It’s simply perverse to say, “If my lies serve to show off God’s truth all the more gloriously, why blame me? I’m doing God a favor.” Some people are actually trying to put such words in our mouths, claiming that we go around saying, “The more evil we do, the more good God does, so let’s just do it!” That’s pure slander, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

[We’re All in the Same Sinking Boat]

So where does that put us? Do we Jews get a better break than the others? Not really. Basically, all of us, whether insiders or outsiders, start out in identical conditions, which is to say that we all start out as sinners. Scripture leaves no doubt about it:

There’s nobody living right, not even one,

nobody who knows the score, nobody alert for God.

They’ve all taken the wrong turn;

they’ve all wandered down blind alleys.

No one’s living right;

I can’t find a single one.

Their throats are gaping graves,

their tongues slick as mudslides.

Every word they speak is tinged with poison.

They open their mouths and pollute the air.

They race for the honor of sinner-of-the-year,

litter the land with heartbreak and ruin,

Don’t know the first thing about living with others.

They never give God the time of day.

This makes it clear, doesn’t it, that whatever is written in these Scriptures is not what God says about others but to us to whom these Scriptures were addressed in the first place! And it’s clear enough, isn’t it, that we’re sinners, every one of us, in the same sinking boat with everybody else? Our involvement with God’s revelation doesn’t put us right with God. What it does is force us to face our complicity in everyone else’s sin.

[God Has Set Things Right]

But in our time something new has been added. What Moses and the prophets witnessed to all those years has happened. The God-setting-things-right that we read about has become Jesus-setting-things-right for us. And not only for us, but for everyone who believes in him. For there is no difference between us and them in this. Since we’ve compiled this long and sorry record as sinners (both us and them) and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us, God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we’re in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ.

God sacrificed Jesus on the altar of the world to clear that world of sin. Having faith in him sets us in the clear. God decided on this course of action in full view of the public—to set the world in the clear with himself through the sacrifice of Jesus, finally taking care of the sins he had so patiently endured. This is not only clear, but it’s now—this is current history! God sets things right. He also makes it possible for us to live in his rightness.

So where does that leave our proud Jewish insider claims and counterclaims? Canceled? Yes, canceled. What we’ve learned is this: God does not respond to what we do; we respond to what God does. We’ve finally figured it out. Our lives get in step with God and all others by letting him set the pace, not by proudly or anxiously trying to run the parade.

And where does that leave our proud Jewish claim of having a corner on God? Also canceled. God is the God of outsider non-Jews as well as insider Jews. How could it be otherwise since there is only one God? God sets right all who welcome his action and enter into it, both those who follow our religious system and those who have never heard of our religion.

But by shifting our focus from what we do to what God does, don’t we cancel out all our careful keeping of the rules and ways God commanded? Not at all. What happens, in fact, is that by putting that entire way of life in its proper place, we confirm it.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 3 (The Message)

and paired with this is the closing chapter of Malachi (as well as the closing chapter of the Old Testament) which means that all is fully rewound tomorrow to begin again with the first chapter of the book of Genesis

the 4th chapter of Malachi:

[The Sun of Righteousness Will Dawn]

“Count on it: The day is coming, raging like a forest fire. All the arrogant people who do evil things will be burned up like stove wood, burned to a crisp, nothing left but scorched earth and ash— a black day. But for you, sunrise! The sun of righteousness will dawn on those who honor my name, healing radiating from its wings. You will be bursting with energy, like colts frisky and frolicking. And you’ll tromp on the wicked. They’ll be nothing but ashes under your feet on that Day.” God-of-the-Angel-Armies says so.

“Remember and keep the revelation I gave through my servant Moses, the revelation I commanded at Horeb for all Israel, all the rules and procedures for right living.

“But also look ahead: I’m sending Elijah the prophet to clear the way for the Big Day of God—the decisive Judgment Day! He will convince parents to look after their children and children to look up to their parents. If they refuse, I’ll come and put the land under a curse.”

The Book of Malachi, Chapter 4 (The Message)

to be concluded with wisdom from Today’s chapter of the book of Proverbs for the 27th of january, here & now in 2020:

Never brag about the plans you have for tomorrow,

for you don’t have a clue what tomorrow may bring to you.

Let someone else honor you for your accomplishments,

for self-praise is never appropriate.

It’s easier to carry a heavy boulder and a ton of sand

than to be provoked by a fool and have to carry that burden!

The rage and anger of others can be overwhelming,

but it’s nothing compared to jealousy’s fire.

It’s better to be corrected openly

if it stems from hidden love.

You can trust a friend who wounds you with his honesty,

but your enemy’s pretended flattery comes from insincerity.

When your soul is full, you turn down even the sweetest honey.

But when your soul is starving,

every bitter thing becomes sweet.

Like a bird that has fallen from its nest

is the one who is dislodged from his home.

Sweet friendships refresh the soul and awaken our hearts with joy,

for good friends are like the anointing oil

that yields the fragrant incense of God’s presence.

So never give up on a friend or abandon a friend of your father—

for in the day of your brokenness

you won’t have to run to a relative for help.

A friend nearby is better than a relative far away.

My son, when you walk in wisdom,

my heart is filled with gladness,

for the way you live is proof

that I’ve not taught you in vain.

A wise, shrewd person discerns the danger ahead

and prepares himself,

but the naïve simpleton never looks ahead

and suffers the consequences.

Cosign for one you barely know and you will pay a great price!

Anyone stupid enough to guarantee the loan of another

deserves to have his property seized in payment.

Do you think you’re blessing your neighbors

when you sing at the top of your lungs early in the morning?

Don’t be fooled—

they’ll curse you for doing it!

An endless drip, drip, drip, from a leaky faucet

and the words of a cranky, nagging wife have the same effect.

Can you stop the north wind from blowing

or grasp a handful of oil?

That’s easier than to stop her from complaining.

It takes a grinding wheel to sharpen a blade,

and so one person sharpens the character of another.

Tend an orchard and you’ll have fruit to eat.

Serve the Master’s interests

and you’ll receive honor that’s sweet.

Just as no two faces are exactly alike,

so every heart is different.

Death and destruction are never filled,

and the desires of men’s hearts are insatiable.

Fire is the way to test the purity of silver and gold,

but the character of a man is tested

by giving him a measure of fame.

You can beat a fool half to death

and still never beat the foolishness out of him.

A shepherd should pay close attention to the faces of his flock

and hold close to his heart the condition of those he cares for.

A man’s strength, power, and riches will one day fade away;

not even nations endure forever.

Take care of your responsibilities

and be diligent in your business

and you will have more than enough—

an abundance of food, clothing, and plenty for your household.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 27 (The Passion Translation)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for january 27 of 2020 (Psalm 27 and Proverbs 27), along with Psalm 38 for the 38th day of Winter, and the paired chapters of the Testaments with Romans 3 and Malachi 4

and along with Today’s reading is a set of posts shared by John Parsons about the current reading of the Torah by Jews around the world:

Shavuah Tov, chaverim. Last week’s Torah portion (Va’era) reported how Pharaoh refused to listen to Moses’ pleas for Israel’s freedom, despite seven devastating plagues that came upon Egypt in God’s Name (יהוה). In this week’s portion (Bo), the battle between God and Pharaoh comes to a dramatic conclusion. The last three of the ten plagues are unleashed upon Egypt: a swarm of locusts devoured all the crops and greenery; a palpable darkness enveloped the land for three days and nights; and all the firstborn of Egypt were killed at the stroke of midnight of the 15th of the month of Nisan...

Before the final plague, God instructed the Jewish people to establish a new calendar based on the sighting of the new moon of spring. On the tenth day of that month, God told the people to acquire a “Passover offering” to Him, namely an unblemished lamb (or goat), one for each household. On the 14th of that month (“between the evenings”) the animal would be slaughtered and its blood sprinkled on the doorposts and lintel of every Israelite home, so that God would “pass over” these dwellings when He came to kill the Egyptian firstborn that night. The roasted meat of the offering was to be eaten that night with unleavened bread (matzah) and bitter herbs (maror). God then commanded the Israelites to observe a seven-day “festival of matzah” to commemorate the Exodus for all subsequent generations.

Just before the last plague was delivered, however, God instructed the Israelites to ask their Egyptian neighbors for gold, silver and jewelry, thereby plundering Egypt of its wealth. The death of the firstborn at last broke Pharaoh’s resistance and he finally allowed the Israelites to depart. Because they left in great haste there was no time for their dough to rise. The Torah states that there were 600,000 adult men who left Egypt, along with the women, children, and a “mixed multitude” of other Egyptian slaves who tagged along.

The Israelites were commanded to consecrate all the firstborn to God and to commemorate the anniversary of the Exodus each year by celebrating the LORD’s Passover in conjunction with the Feast of Unleavened Bread. During this time they were to remove all leaven from their homes for seven days, eat matzah, and retell the story of their redemption to their children. The portion ends with the commandment to wear tefillin (phylacteries) on the arm and head as a reminder of how the LORD saved the Israelites from their bondage in Egypt. [Hebrew for Christians]

1.26.20 • Facebook

The calendar of ancient Egypt, like our present Gregorian calendar, followed the course of the sun. The sun symbolized the power of the Egyptian sun god Ra (Re) who was also considered the creator and giver of life in some Egyptian myths. As far back as 2700 BC, Ra was regarded as the great god of heaven, King of all the gods, and lord of the resurrected dead. The daily rising sun was a symbol of creation (or the “eye” of Ra), and the shape of the pyramid is thought represent the descending rays of the sun. The Pharaoh, like the sun, was sometimes called the “son of Ra” and said to oversee everything upon the earth (note: the name “Ramses” can mean “Ra bore him,” though it is more likely that Amenhotep II [a name based on the merging of the gods Amun and Ra] was the Pharoah of the Exodus). Interestingly, the Hebrew word for evil or bad is ra’ (רַע), and the ayin ha-ra, or “evil eye,” might derive from this association. From a “macro” perspective, the call of Abraham out of Mesopotamia (Shinar-Babylonia) can be thought of as the beginning of God’s judgment of the religion/mythology of ancient Egypt...

The very first word of Torah indicates the awareness of the significance of time - בְּרֵאשִׁית - "in the beginning..." (Gen. 1:1), and according to Jewish tradition, the very first commandment given to the children of Israel (as a whole) was that of Rosh Chodesh (ראש חודש), or the declaration of the start (or head) of the "new month," particularly with regard to the first month of their redemption (Exod. 12:2). In other words, Passover month was to begin Israel’s year (i.e., Rosh Chodashim). Note that the word for month (i.e., chodesh) comes from the root chadash (חָדָש), meaning "new," and therefore the Passover redemption (chodesh yeshuah) was intended to mark a "new beginning" for the Jewish people. And indeed, God marks the start of our personal redemption as the beginning of our life as a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17), just as Yeshua is the "first of the firstfruits" of God's redeemed humanity (1 Cor. 15:45-49). [Hebrew for Christians]

For more on this subject, see “Parashat Bo: The Significance of the Moon" using the link below:

The moon's regular repetition of cycles suggests both change and renewal, wonder and mystery. The Hebrew word for month (chodesh) is related to the word for new (chadash) as it the word for renewal (chidush). God wanted Israel to look to the moon as their timepiece. Just as the moon wanes and disappears at the end of each month, but returns and waxes again to fullness, so we suffer until the return of our beloved Mashiach Yeshua, who will restore the glory of God fully upon the earth.

1.27.20 • Facebook

[my-dear-hammy]

The Ship Wars

Masterpost

Chapter Seventeen: A Little Bit of Truth

----

Warnings: Do I even need these anymore. Yo, my stories are alway dark and sad and people always end up dying. Plus, endless cussing. Great, now that we've covered that, I think there's only drinking.

----

"John?"

"Going by your reaction, I've been asleep for a while."

"You motherfucker."

"What did I do?" John asked, wincing as he sat up.

"You almost died!"

"Yeah, well that's your fault," John said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What?"

"You heard me. If you hadn't been busy banging Frenchy, we never would've gotten into this mess. How's the ship?"

Hamilton shifted his gaze to the side. "Bottom of the watery depths," he mumbled.

"We lost the Hurricane?! Great, that's just great. So what ship are we on?"

"Adrienne."

Laurens laid back again. "Sometimes you can be a complete idiot, Alexander."

Hamilton's expression hardened. "You're out of place, Laurens." John closed his eyes, not caring in the least and Hamilton softened again. He had a soft spot for John, especially when he was injured. "I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.

"Someone has to keep you on course," Laurens mumbled, sleep pulling at his mind again. Getting shot fucking sucked, don't try it. Just before he slipped under, he felt the bed dip and Hamilton climb in next to him, softly running his hands through his hair.

Hamilton did not consider himself an affectionate man. He did not consider himself affectionate or in anyway loving. Not to anyone. But John was right. It was his fault that his ship was sunk, his crew was in shambles, and his first mate nearly died. Guilt was a bitch. After a while, he got up and cleaned up the mess from the food he spilled and went to retrieve more. He was hungry and John would want to eat too when he woke up again. Getting shot definitely put a toll on the body, if anyone knew, it was Hamilton.

When Hamilton re-emerged top deck, he found the Marquis bowing formally to a crew mate, sheathing his sword. "Was that a duel?" Hamilton questioned.

"Non, practice. It's required I keep my sparring skills polished, wouldn't want to be mistaken for the common rabble, now would I?"

Hamilton smirked and drew his own sword, "Let's see what you've got Frenchy."

Lafayette chuckled.

***

Let's make an agreement, yeah? There's no reason to lie to each other

Fine. I'll agree to that.

That's what Madison agreed to. How was he even going to managed keeping to that? Every word he uttered was carefully selected to serve a particular purpose in some form manipulation. He just promised that away. He couldn't lie, he couldn't cheat, everything had to be true. Promises meant something. They weren't to be taken lightly.

Kinloch's voice broke into Madison's thoughts. "You never did tell me what you want," he said, eating more of his meal. "The mindless bickering can end, all it does is slow us both down. If we worked together, we'd get to both our goals faster. So what is it you want?"

That's right. Madison avoided the question the first time it had been asked. And now he was held by his promise to tell the truth. Was that Kinloch's plan the whole time? Honor bound him? Madison picked a leftover scale off his fish, throwing it in the fire. "I've never really thought about it before. It's always just been about the mission and how this war with France is going to play out."

"Oh?" Kinloch asked. "Man like you, it always seems like you'd have everything you wanted figured out.

Madison scowled. He was about to respond when his lungs decided the middle of a sentence was the perfect time to make him cough. Stupid body. At least it wasn't bad. Nothing like the hacking he'd been doing earlier. Kinloch handed him one of the rum bottles of water which Madison accepted gratefully, gulping down a couple swallows before handing it back. It wouldn't do to waste water. "It's never mattered," Madison finally answered.

"I believe it matters very much," Kinloch said, shrugging, "but I guess it's alright to our differences. You wanna take first sleeping shift?" Kinloch's motives were personal whereas Madison's tended to be about something else.

"We're on an abandoned island that doesn't even seem to have predators," Madison pointed out.

"You never know. What if a ship were to arrive?"

"We'd need to be on the beach to see it instead of surrounded by trees. But you're right," Madison said, pushing himself to his feet, "I'll patrol the beach."

"Why don't we set a fire on the beach so that ships will be able to see?" Kinloch asked, standing as well. "We can add moss to it in the morning to generate more smoke so that we have a smoke signal in daylight."

Madison nodded, "Sounds good. But someone needs to be there to make sure they have new wood constantly and that the flames don't get carried by the wind and catch the entire island on fire. We could make several along the beach and I could patrol back and forth."

"I agree, but maintaining several fires tonight would be too much work. We'll spend tomorrow morning setting those up. Just make one for tonight. Doubt anyone's going to show up anyway. Wake me up in a few hours, I'll take a shift as well."

Madison nodded before setting off toward the beach, collecting wood as he went, Kinloch went back to the fire and retrieved a burning stick as a torch and went after him to help. Some they had a sizable pyre on the beach, well away from the tree. Madison stepped back after placing the last log on the pile. "The honor is all yours. Light 'er up," Madison said, gesturing toward the pyre.

"Thanks, darling," Kinloch said, stepping forward and placing the torch to the wood. He stepped back to Madison side and they both watched the flames crawl up the wood and slowly engulf the entire thing. "Absolutely beautiful," Kinloch remarked, grinning.

"I suppose."

"I'll be back at camp then. You alright for the night?"

"Of course. I'll work on some fish traps and nets. Some other supplies. Get some rest, I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Naturally," Kinloch said, giving Madison a quick bow. "Good night."

Madison gave him a quick nod before turning back to the fire as Kinloch made his way back to camp. Kinloch added a few pieces of wood to the campfire to keep it alive before curling up under the lean-to, falling asleep.

Madison occupied himself by stripping plants and binding them together, weaving nets and tying logs. Ropes were crafted and a raft started to take shape. Hours went by without him hardly noticing. Every now and then, he rose and fed the fire, it didn't need much tending to since it was so large. His eyes constantly scanned the dark for floating lights to signify a ship. It was only when his fingers were worked raw that he finally set aside his projects and picked his way back to camp, finding Kinloch curled up under the lean-to, fire in embers. Madison took a couple minutes to coax it back to life before walking over to wake Kinloch. He looked so peaceful asleep, relaxed, Madison didn't want to wake him. He could let Kinloch sleep, go back to his projects, but Kinloch would probably never let Madison hear the end of it and Madison wasn't sure if he could endure that type of torture. Not to mention that his weakened body was begging for some rest. He hadn't allowed it the proper time to recover after that ordeal he put it through. It was probably going to come back and bite him later for it, most likely at the worst time possible. Madison sighed and knelt down, placing his hand on Kinloch's warm body and gently shaking him awake.

Kinloch smiled softly as he was shaken, turning toward the arm. "Let's me sleep a little longer, my dear Laurens," he mumbled, curling a little closer to the warm body next to him.

Right. Madison sighed and stood, debated nudging him with his foot, decided against it. Kinloch seemed to be sleeping really well, a feat Madison considered a miracle. He could just take his shift. It was only a couple more hours, not that big of a deal. Madison absently staring at Kinloch as he debated.

Kinloch reached out for the other man, his hand only finding the cold, empty ground instead. He blinked himself awake, looking up at Madison and blushing. "Sorry," he said quickly, "I'm up."

"Don't worry about it. Sleep well? Any good dreams?"

"One," Kinloch answered, smiling softly. He shook himself out of it. Laurens was in the past. "How had the night been for you?"

Madison shrugged, trying to ignore how happy Kinloch looked. "Just fine. I fed all the fires. No ships nearby as far as I can see. Nothing of consequence."

Kinloch nodded, standing and placing a hand on Madison's shoulder. "Get a good rest. I'll see you in the morning," he said, squeezing slightly before lighting a torch and skipping off to the beach. With a shake of the head, Madison laid down, forced his mind to silence and fell asleep.

Kinloch didn't know the first thing about fishing nets so he left Madison's work be, focusing instead on keeping the fire alight, walking the beach of washed up items, mostly being rum, all while humming a shanty to himself. After a while, he started sorting the bottle into piles of what Madison liked and what Kinloch liked, deciding to wait there until Madison woke and came looking.

It was several hours before the happened, Madison waking to the light of the rising sun in his eyes, finding the camp empty. Gulping down some water and feeding the fire, Madison made his way down to the beach to make sure Kinloch was still alive.

Kinloch grinned when he saw Madison approaching, picking up a bottle as he greeted him, "How are you?" he handed over the bottle.

"Decent," Madison replied, spinning the bottle over to read the label, "This is my favorite-"

"Yup, spent a while sorting out the rum you'd like," he said, smiling. "Of course, what I did was practically useless compared to your handiwork. Good job."

Madison smiled slightly, sitting down in the sand, Kinloch joining him a second later. "Nonsense. With my work, we stay alive. Without your work, we'd go insane. Can you imagine trying to survive here without some form of alcohol? You're important." Madison popped out the cork and took a drink. Maybe some would consider it a little bit too early, but they were stranded. Drinking rules disappeared.

Kinloch grinned, popping open his own bottle. "Thanks to you, we're living in luxury," he said. "Well, as much luxury as this island can provide. Also, was that a compliment I heard? From you?"

Fuck. Madison took another drink. "Yeah, I suppose it was."

"Well, here's to us," Kinloch said, holding his bottle up for a toast.

"To us," Madison repeated, clinking his bottle to Kinloch's and took a gulp of his rum and looked out over the sea the early sun sparkling off the water. He stretched out his legs and leaning back on his hands, Madison tilted his head back, enjoying the quiet for once. Kinloch doing the same a moment later, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin. Madison chuckled quietly, "It's kinda nice being stranded on an island."

"Kinda nice to get away from people, isn't it?" he replied, smiling.

"No having to deal with drunken sailors," Madison started to list.

"Don't have to worry about getting blown to bits by a cannon," Kinloch continued.

"No endless prattle about the Hurricane."

"Don't have to worry about the captain fucking the Hurricane."

Madison busted up laughing and took another drink. Kinloch grinned at being able to make Madison laugh, enjoying the sound. It was something he'd never witnessed before, a rare occurrence indeed. Another sip of rum.

"That's still a real problem," Madison said, chuckling slightly.

"It really is," Kinloch said, letting out a chuckle as well. "How does he even find the time to do it?" "Well, he hasn't yet, and now maybe he won't. He could be at the bottom of the sea. Maybe even Hamilton as well."

"Do...do you think anyone else got out alive?" Kinloch asked.

"You mean Laurens?" Madison asked, fixing his gaze on the horizon. "There's a chance. Lafayette could have pulled around and picked up in survivors. Hamilton and Laurens could still be alive."

"Yeah, I did mean Laurens," Kinloch said with a sigh. "I'll accept a chance. If not, I'll probably be meeting him in hell anyway."

"Yeah, we all will." After a moment of silence, Madison stood. "Let's get to work."

***

Hamilton had to admit, Lafayette was right, he was good with a sword. Hamilton thought himself a master, but Lafayette showed him otherwise, smoothly disarming him after a while of clashing. It was obvious Lafayette wasn't trying his hardest. Hamilton had beaten every opponent he'd ever come across until that day. If Hamilton was good, what did that make Lafayette?

They ended up sparring all day and by the time the sun had set, they were both exhausted. Hamilton had improved his skill but was nowhere near as good as Lafayette was. Not yet. It seemed a short day and it was already over. Hamilton and Lafayette were quick to retire, Hamilton crawling into bed next to John again, hoping he'd wake up soon.

The next time Laurens woke, it was the middle of the night and there was a warm body pressed against him in the small bed. He took a moment to look around, finding food waiting for him on the bed side table and another lump, probably a person, lying on the floor. Laurens gingerly propped himself up, an arm slipping off of him from the movement, and pulled to food onto his lap, going for the water first. His body was famished.

It was easy to figure out that Hamilton was the one next to him, who else would it be? Which meant the man on the floor was the Marquis. Weird. It wasn't usual for a captain to give up his own bed for somebody else's first mate, especially a pirate. Odd indeed. But why was Hamilton with him? Hamilton didn't care about him, not in that way, even if Laurens wished for it. Hamilton much more enjoyed fucking pretty boy that happened across his path.

After finishing his food, Laurens decided he couldn't take another second of being in bed, so he slipped out, slowly seeing that every part of his body ached from being shot, battered, and abused, then not moving for god knows how long. Once he reached top side, everything seemed to be magically better, the cool wind his face and the scent of the sea fill his nostrils. He'd been in that room much too long.

----

[theseaeaglelives]

Round 24

THE SEA EAGLE

MAKING RUGBY LEAGUE GREAT AGAIN!!!

Round 24   Manly Sea Eagles      6                        Defeated by   Filthy Wrestling Rorting Cheating Melbourne Storm 36

 Having banned himself from attending games during the ill-feted Trent Barrett era, the Sea Eagle made his first trip to Brookvale Oval in a long time to take in this fixture. One of the last times that the Sea Eagle attended a game at Brookvale Oval, expectations were high, the weather was wet and the home team delivered a less than inspired performance going down to the despised Eels, despite being 6/1 favourites, effectively ending their hopes of playing finals in 2016 and resulting in the demise of Geoff Tooveys coaching career.   Three years later, it was a case of déjà vu, with expectations high, miserable weather and an insipid performance against the Filthy Wrestlers, (where the Storm were decidedly favourites) which has effectively ended any chance of a Top 4 finish and any meaningful involvement in the September action.   Despite the conditions, a large crowd braved the wet weather to cheer on their side at Brookvale Oval, however initial signs were ominous when Brad Parker was a late inclusion into the starting line-up at the expense of Brendon Elliott. Always quick to the uptake, the Craig Bellamy coached Filthy Cheaters were able to exploit this late inclusion and repeatedly targeted Parker for much of the game and basically ran roughshod down the left-side of the Brookvale Oval based teams’ defence where poor old Brad was positioned.

  Things did not improve for the Brookvale Oval based team, when Josh “the Fox” Addo-Carr crossed for the Filthy Rorters after 6 minutes. As bad as that was, it was nothing compared to what transpired in the 10th minute when Tommy Trbojevic was assisted from the field in a distressed state, not to return. It has since been reported that Turbo Tom has a ruptured peck muscle which rule him out for the remainder of the season and with it effectively end any hope that the Brookvale Oval based team had of a serious September finals challenge.

  With Tommy Turbo gone, the reshuffled Brookvale Oval based team’s backline struggled to contain their Filthy Wrestling counterparts and young Parker will be having nightmares about The Fox, Will Chambers and Justin Olam (3 tries) for years to come.   With a mountain of possession, field position and surprising ball control in the wet conditions the Filthy Cheaters quickly ran out to an 18-0 lead and things were not looking at all good for the Brookvale Oval based team. Somehow against the run of play the home side hit back just before half-time and at 18-6 at the break there was still a glimmer of hope for the drenched fans.   Unfortunately, the Brookvale Oval based team failed to get hot in the second half and were wrestled to a standstill by the Filthy Storm. The Brookvale Oval based team did themselves no favours with sloppy ball control further highlighting their poor credentials in the wet, a problem that has been identified by the Sea Eagle in previous editions of this report.

  Even when the Filthy Cheaters were reduced to 12 men following the sin-binning of Wrestling Will Chambers, the Brookvale Oval based team was unable to capitalise. Quite the opposite in fact, and despite being a man down the Filthy Rorters ran in two more tries running out 36-6 winners.   This will be the last scheduled home and away to be staged at Brookvale Oval in season 2019. As a consequence of the magnitude of this loss, there are now two possible outcomes in terms of who the Brookvale Oval based team will face in week 1 of the finals.   Outcome 1 – if they beat the despised Eels or lose by 11 pts or less, they will face the perennial whipping boys, and team based in the Shire, the Sharks (or the Wests Tigers) with a high possibility that the game will be held at Brookvale Oval.   Outcome 2 – if they lose to the despised Eels by more than 11 pts they will face the Bronco’s. Given the recent predisposition of management to take home games against the Bronco’s to Brisbane, the Sea Eagle fears that this game may be held at Lang Park.   The Sea Eagle is not offering any prizes for guessing which of the above outcomes is most desirable. Notwithstanding, without Tommy Turbo the Brookvale Oval based team will be up against it no matter who they end up playing. And, even if they somehow manage to win in week 1 of the finals, they cannot realistically hope to go much deeper into the contest.   That said, no criticism should be placed on super Coach Des Hasler around any of this. The fact he has got the Brookvale Oval based team into the 8 and with a guaranteed 5th or 6th placing, with the same squad that Trent Barret came 2nd last, in 2018, only proves what we already knew. That is, Des Hasler is the messiah for the Brookvale Oval based team and Trent Barret should never have been allowed through the front gates and/or should have been made to pay to enter.   The Brookvale Oval based team need to use this year’s finals series as a stepping stone to brighter things in 2020 and beyond, and allow this inexperienced squad to gain some much-needed semi-final experience. Sure, they should try to make the GF and win it, after all, that is the point of the competition. But in 2019, no criticism should be placed on the Brookvale Oval based squad as long as they do their best (even if they fail to deliver).  

  MANLY SEA EAGLES BAN BROOKVALE OVAL NAME FOR LOTTOLAND

Manly chairman Scott Penn has apparently banned all players and staff from referring to the club’s home ground as Brookvale Oval — demanding it be called Lottoland.

Mr Penn’s stipulation means Saturday afternoon’s Battle of Brookvale mark II against Melbourne will now, at least from Manly’s perspective, be known as the Battle of Lottoland.

It is understood that an official letter penned by Mr Penn to all staff which was then forwarded to every player. While not wanting to cast aside Brookvale Oval’s rich history, Mr Penn has called on all staff and players to call the club’s home ground Lottoland.

Mr Penn apparently wrote: “On the back of this great news for the club, it is an opportune time to provide this friendly reminder to all staff and players regarding the importance of each and every one of us always referring to our home ground as LOTTOLAND and not ‘Brookvale Oval’, ‘Brookie’ and anything else other than LOTTOLAND, which is the official name of the venue. I perfectly understand our historical ties to the name ‘Brookie’ and have been prone to the occasional slip up myself, however LOTTOLAND pay a significant fee for the exclusive naming rights to the venue and deserve recognition as a loyal sponsor of the club.

“The fee they pay goes directly into the day-to-day running of the organisation including, but not limited to, everything from salaries through to equipment and running of home games, etc.

“As representatives of the club, it is our job to drive the rights and benefits of our partners from within, hence why it’s so important that we are driving the conversation, particularly with the media and our members and fans.

“If we’re calling our home ground anything other than LOTTOLAND in the media, then our members and our fans will too.

“We are still passionate about our heritage and history at the ground; however, we need to do the right thing by our partners at LOTTOLAND and keep them front and centre.”

Sea Eagle Comment: The timing of this announcement by Mr Penn could be no less opportune, that being in the lead-up to the anniversary of one of Manly’s finest moments, the demolition of the Filthy Wrestlers in the aptly named Battle of Brookvale (or Brookvale Brawl) in 2011. Fans will recall that this was the night that Manly drew a line in the sand, screamed “no mas”, standing up to the Storm and their filthy wrestling cheating tactics.

  The ensuing melee has gone down in folklore, and Glenn Stewart will be forever be remembered as the man who took a stand, was sent off, suspended for 4 weeks but returned to win the Clive Churchill medal in leading Manly to premiership glory.   Let’s face it, the Battle of Lottoland hardly fires up the imagination with the same degree of grandeur and majesty and the name will be long forgotten when the next Corporate sponsor comes along with a few more bucks for the naming rights.   Add to this Brookvale Oval, notwithstanding its traditional significance has also been known (apart from the Barrett era) as Fortress Brookvale or simply Fortress Brookie and has been in the main (apart from the Barrett era) a graveyard for visiting teams. There is no such thing as Fortress Lottoland, as evidenced by the Filthy Wrestlers demolition of Manly in this round.   It is understood that Lottoland pay around $500K for the naming rights, but surely a winning team at a fortress will deliver greater returns for Manly and its owners.   The only consolation in this entire debacle, is that the naming rights holder of the venue is not 1300 Smiles ….. or

  Without in any way denigrating the decision to garner the sponsorship of Lottoland in what must be a tight environment, after all Manly management were just doing their best,  and noting as one must, that what Mr Penn as club owner has said about supporting sponsors is 100% spot on, nevertheless, the words “lottoland” and a rugby league home ground do not sit well in terms of interpretation.

It requires one to imagine, perhaps only momentarily, but nonetheless still for a split second, that the outcome may be less than predictable or not even a realistically guessable possibility. The phrase “it’s a lottery” come to mind. That the NRL allowed this in the first place (given their so called integrity of the game line around betting and the like), is the real issue here. Someone at rugby league/NRL headquarters clearly could see no problem in allowing the implication that a rugby league ground might have lottery like outcomes. 

The NRL integrity unit needs to undertake a deep probe as to who made this decision and said probe should result in the culprit being the recipient of a fist sized prostate massage (perhaps delivered by Kens at Kensington) for their involvement in the decision.

MAD MONDAY

With Mad Monday fast approaching, and the natural reluctance of most venues to house a large number of NRL players on a club sanctioned bender for a whole afternoon and then some, the Sea Eagle thankfully notes this recent piece from the Fairfax press:

Beyond belief': Sydney restaurant under fire for serving 86 drinks to group of five By Ben Weir SMH

 A Korean restaurant in Sydney's CBD is facing disciplinary action after it allegedly served five diners 86 shots of alcohol during a six-hour birthday celebration.

Police allege the group of diners at the Haru Fusion Soju Lounge were served 86 standard drinks of soju, a clear Korean liquor that has an alcohol content of between 16 to 53 per cent, in October last year.

After leaving the venue one female member of the group was found outside the restaurant next to a pool of vomit, while another was found lying unconscious on the road.

The NSW Independent Liquor & Gaming Authority alleges CCTV footage shows a female staff member of the Castlereagh Street venue walking past a patron passed out at a table. Other footage shows a woman being carried out of the restaurant. The authority has imposed a strike on the licensee Chris Chang under the NSW Government's three strikes disciplinary scheme, the authority's chair Philip Crawford said.

"It is almost beyond belief that venue staff could serve such a large amount of alcohol to a group of five patrons and not take any steps to avoid extreme intoxication," Mr Crawford said in a statement.

"The authority will consider imposing a range of special conditions on the venue’s liquor licence, as well as winding back the venue’s trading hours."

Sea Eagle Comment: This behaviour by the regulator is the sort of nanny state hand holding that is making being a true blue Aussie a thing of the past. This Korean restaurant should be commended for its efforts. And frankly, the Sea Eagle thinks they should be on a special NRL Mad Monday list of fit for purpose venues. 

The only special condition this joint needs is that it is authorised to house NRL Mad Monday functions and a mandatory requirement that there be a maroon neon sign stating “enter at own risk, NRL player function inside”. 

THE SEA EAGLE

[ashotofpeace-blog]

“Never in the course of human events has so much been named after a man who spent so little time in a place”. Jim Baker That man is Sir Stamford Raffles, the founder of Singapore. His influence on the Malay Peninsula is not confined to Singapore, however. At the turn of the 19th century, France had taken control of the Netherlands, forcing the Dutch King to seek asylum in Britain. Fearful that France was about to go on a maniacal rampage in search for world domination, Britain struck a deal with the exiled monarch of Holland to temporarily occupy all of their colonial territories in order to stave of any provocations from the increasingly dangerous French. Britain and the East India Company had promised to return all the colonies to the Dutch once the war was over. For the formerly Dutch-occupied city of Malacca, the East India Company, in their typical pedantic and ruthless style, planned to honour this agreement but first wanted to burn it to the ground and force all of its inhabitants - at gunpoint if necessary - to emigrate to Penang, rendering it worthless to the Dutch. Luckily for the Dutch, but more importantly the residents of Malacca, Raffles vehemently argued against this plan. Raffles was an East India Company officer stationed in Penang, but had visited Malacca in 1808. Throughout the imperialist epoch, the British establishment peddled a false narrative of the positive moral impact of British colonialism on the native people in order to justify the true reason behind their foreign policy: to increase the Crown’s capital and power. ‘We are here to civilise you. Please ignore our ships full of your tea and gold.’ Raffles argument for not annihilating Malacca abstractly embodied this sophisticated doctrine of soft-power used by the British. Raffles put forward the case that forcing the citizens of Malacca to up sticks or die was immoral - such a policy would make the British no better than the ‘savages’ they were attempting to civilise. However, the fundamental reason why he argued against torching the city was his belief that returning the Dutch their territories was against the interest of British hegemony. Raffles wanted to keep Malacca as part of a larger strategy to expel the Dutch from the archipelago altogether. Arguing against both the Crown and the East India Company at that time took a level of bravery and self-righteousness that not many men possess. He eloquently convinced the establishment to leave Malacca in one piece. Had he not done so, Malacca might have forever been a city confined to history.   Perhaps spurred on by this victory, Raffles went from arguing against the Establishment to downright mutiny in order to create Singapore. After the Napoleonic War ended the British returned the Dutch their settlements in the south of the Malacca Strait, despite Raffles’ objection. In his mind, such an act was a precursor to complete Dutch domination in the region. Consequently, he set out to establish a new colony south of Penang in order to prevent his prophecy. It is important to note that the British establishment did not want to return the Dutch their territories for the sake of fairness, but rather thought that a strong Netherlands would act as a counterbalance to any future French aggression in Europe. Both Raffles and the Crown were pursuing expansions to British power, they just disagreed on how to do so. Raffles got permission to search for a naval base in the Strait, but was under strict orders to in no way provoke the Dutch or encroach on their authority. What he did next was an act of a true maverick that would shape the history of the region. Prior to his arrival, Singapore was sparsely inhabited and was loosely ruled over by the Kingdom of Johor, which was in the Dutch’s sphere of influence. When Sultan Mahmud of Johor died in 1812, it was his second eldest who succeeded him, as his oldest was not residing in Johor at the time. Regardless, the Dutch and British Crown recognised the authority of the new Sultan. Raffles, in conjunction with other local powers, found the firstborn of Sultan Mahmud and agreed to recognise him as the true Sultan of Johor if he granted Singapore to the British. At no point did Raffles seek ratification of this plan from his superiors, and many were fuming when they found out as they feared he had risked ruining Anglo-Dutch relations. However, before any decision on Raffles’ action could be agreed upon, Singapore’s free trade philosophy began to make stupid amounts of money for the East India Company, quickly convincing the Establishment to keep the new colony and not return it to Dutch quasi-controlled Johor. Although instrumental in its founding, Raffles was only there for 10 months. Much of Singapore's success should be attributed to the man charged with putting Raffles’ vision of a free trade haven into action - Lord Farquhar. Farquhar’s name is nonexistence in Singapore, but nearly every building or road has either ‘Stamford’ or ‘Raffles’ in its title. Prior to arriving here, I had already decided I hated this city-state as I had to bin my vaping kit and supplies before arriving. To be caught with it would lead to a S$5,000 fine and 6 months in prison, or both. Purportedly this ban is for health reasons, although cigarettes are freely sold everywhere. The Singapore justice system is not to be fucked with - there is little grey area or leniency for rule breaking. Perhaps this rigid strictness is an attempt to atone for their vice-filled past, when anarchy and organised crime ruled the city. Prior to being under the British government's rule, the colony was overseen by the East India Company, who did not really care for the social society of Singapore as long as it was making money. The East India Company had only bothered to put twelve policemen in the territory, all of which were Bengali, none of whom could speak the language of the population which consisted solely of Malay and Chinese immigrants. Alas, it is hard to stay bemused at a city of this wonderment for very long. Singapore is the third largest financial centre in the world. Unlike London and New York, it doesn't have a rural population to support. Combined with their fascist approach to litter and mess, the end result is a city like no other I have ever seen. Despite its reputation as a city for the wealthy, there is a surprising amount to do for free. Each evening, Gardens by the Bay - an eco-park near the city centre - put on a free lights show, where artificial tree-like structures glow in unison to music. Each light show has a theme and when we attended it was ‘A Journey Through Asia’. I'm not sure how the history of the world's most diverse continent can be explained through lights, but it was nonetheless an enjoyable experience. A short ride on the MRT (their underground) is Chinatown and Little India. In every city, the Chinese get their own town whereas the Indians have to make do with the diminutive title of ‘Little’. Although obviously not free, getting food in either of these places is cheap - a hearty meal can be purchased for a pound. However, it is back downtown where the best attraction of all is found. The Sky Bar at Marina Bay Sands Hotel. Marina Sands is a marvel of modern architecture. Three towers elegantly shoot into the skyline, all connected at the top by a Sky Park. If you are a guest of the hotel, you can use the infinity pool in this park. If you are not, you can visit the Sky Park for around $20. But, if you go to Tower 1, you can go all the way up to the top for free and drink at the Sky Bar. Here you get the same view of Singapore and only have to pay for the drinks you order. You'd be forgiven for thinking the bar is a members only club due to their professional level of service, but no - they let scum like you in too, even if you are donning flip flops and a Liverpool shirt. Drinks are reasonably priced to pay for the awe-inducing view you are treated to. What seems like an infinite amount of cargo ships are dotted throughout the bay. Directly below is the Gardens by the Bay park, which was once so captivating but now seems like an irrelevant attraction when compared to view from the Sky Bar. Many people in the bar were conducting business meetings and why wouldn't you choose to do business here; just being here makes you feel important. I know it made me feel like I'm a man of great standing even though my only current inherent value to mankind is this blog which no one is reading. Looking down onto the horizon from this gorgeous, innovative, and luxurious piece of architecture, the impact of Raffles' vision and Faruqah’s action is astonishing. Had Raffles followed his brief not to disturb the Dutch, none of this would be here. Or perhaps it would, but the Sky Park would instead be called ‘Hemel Tuin’ or whatever Sky Garden is in Dutch.

[placetobenation]

Steve’s Box Office Report: May 2010

Top 10 Films for the Month of May:

1. Iron Man 2 – $312,433,331

2. Shrek Forever After – $238,736,787

3. Robin Hood – $105,269,730

4. Sex and the City 2 – $95,347,692

5. The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time – $88,656,132

6. Letters to Juliet – $53,032,453

7. Just Wright – $21,540,363

8. MacGruber – $8,525,600

9. Babies – $7,320,323

10. Sea Rex 3D: Journey to a Prehistoric World – $6,096,582

Honorable Mentions:

None

May Winners: Iron Man 2, Shrek Forever After, and Letters to Juliet

We continue on through the year of 2010 with the month of May as we kick off the summer season. The slate of films for this month was an interesting crop as there were some films that you knew were going to do well in some capacity, but there were plenty of films that could either surprise people to end up flopping in the end. Ultimately, we only had 3 films make it into this category and the first is the next installment of the Marvel Cinematic Universe which is Iron Man 2, a film that sees Tony Stark face a threat that has personal implications while coming to terms with his possible mortality with what is keeping him alive. While many felt it was a slight notch below its predecessor, it still did great at the box office and easily surpassed the first one while showing everyone that the MCU was here to stay. The next film from this month that makes it into this category is the animated film Shrek Forever After, the fourth film in the franchise that sees Shrek yearning for the days when he was a feared ogre and Rumpelstiltskin agrees to help him though with possible consequences. The film would receive mixed reviews from critics who felt it was the worse of the series, but it still made quite a good chunk of money and showed that the franchise was still viable even though this film felt like the end of the franchise with new ones starting to crop up. The third and final film from this month that makes it into this category is the romance film Letters to Juliet, a film about a fact checker who answers a “Letter to Juliet” and helps the writer of the letter look for her long-lost love. The film would receive mixed to negative reviews from critics who felt it was rather lackluster even as a romance film, but it still managed to walk away with just over $53 million which was perfectly fine considering some of the bigger films that came out around the same time. While it is a bit disappointing that only three films made this category, two of them pretty much dominated the whole month and attributed to the bulk of the success of the month which is fine.

May Losers: Robin Hood and Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

As I mentioned in the previous category, there were a few films that looked like they could potentially be surprise hits though in the end I don’t think we got much in the way of surprise hits which was a bit disappointing. On the flip side, it was going to be interesting to see if anything ended up being a flop and sure enough we had two films that flopped which isn’t good given that they were pretty anticipated going in. The first film from this month that makes it into this category is the epic drama film Robin Hood, a retelling of the classic tale of Robin Hood as he grows to become a hero to England while preparing for a surprise invasion from France. The film would receive mixed reviews from critics who felt it was a lackluster film and not the best adaptation of the classic story, and while the film did reach over $100 million it still fell well short of its budget and as a result it ends up being one of the bigger bombs of the year. The other film from this month that makes it into this category is the action fantasy film Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, based on the video game of the same name of a young man who finds a mysterious dagger that can control time as he teams with a princess to prevent an alteration in the timeline. The film would receive mixed to negative reviews from critics though some felt it was a better video game adaptation than most others, but the film would bomb at the box office even being released over Memorial Day weekend and it was another in a line of video game adaptations bombing. It’s too bad because I’m sure there were people that were looking forward to these two films and had some decent expectations, but in the end both failed to deliver and they ended up keeping the month of reaching the top level.

The Surprise/Story of May 2010: MCU launches to a new level as Iron Man 2 wins May 2010

When the year of 2010 started, there were a lot of films coming out that were going to have plenty of eyes on it and people were anxious to see how they were going to do. At this point two years ago, we saw the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with the release of Iron Man which did very well and then the next month was the Incredible Hulk which was a bit of a disappointment. Knowing we were going to have to wait two years until the next installment, the anticipation was pretty high to see if Iron Man 2 would build off of Iron Man or it would play more like Incredible Hulk and become a major speed bump for this fledging franchise. In the end, Iron Man 2 ended up being a major success and while it just missed Iron Man by a few million dollars, it had to come as a major relief to Marvel knowing that there was an audience for this universe. We would now have to wait another year for the next installment meaning that the anticipation was going to grow again, but for now Iron Man 2 was a big success and easily took the top spot for the month of May as nothing else including Shrek Forever After came even close to matching it.

Overachiever of May 2010: Iron Man 2

Back in 2008, the Marvel Cinematic Universe launched with Iron Man and it was a major success, and then a month later the second film in the franchise came out in the Incredible Hulk and that was a bit of a disappointment in the box office. Knowing we would have to wait two years until the next installment came out, you knew the anticipation was going to be high and Marvel had to be on edge to see how Iron Man 2 would end up doing. The reviews for it were fairly positive with many saying that it was a good follow up to the original, though some did feel that there were aspects that didn’t work and it didn’t feel as fresh as the first one though that it always hard for a sequel to do. Ultimately, when the film did release at the beginning of the month it crushed the opening weekend of the first Iron Man by making close to $130 million showing that the MCU was now a viable franchise and had plenty of legs going forward. Now while the film just missed passing Iron Man by only a few million dollars, you can’t take away how well the film did and the complete domination of the month which easily earns it the title of the overachiever of the month.

Underachiever of May 2010: Sex and the City 2

I have made reference to May 2008 a few times and I do it again here as it was that year we saw the release of Sex and the City, and that movie did very well despite the mixed reviews and it seemed inevitable that a sequel was possible. Sure enough two years later, we get the release of Sex and the City 2 which sees the four gal pals travel to Abu Dhabi for a vacation as they deal with their own personal issues. Unlike the first film which had more mixed reviews from critics, this one received negative reviews from critics who felt it was a sad end to the long-running TV series and the film was also criticized for certain aspects of it regarding race and sexism. Also unlike the first film which managed to perform well and exceeded most expectations, this one ended up falling flat on its face as not only did it fail to match the predecessor, it didn’t even finish with $100 million. This happened despite the fact it came out over Memorial Day weekend and looked prime to be solid counterprogramming to Shrek and Prince of Persia, but in the end it was a major disappointment and is more than worthy of the title of underachiever of the month.

May 2010 Awards Watch: Iron Man 2 and Sex and the City 2

After the new award season started fairly strong between February and March, things have dipped quite a bit as the previous month only had one film in this category and now this month only has two films make it into this category. It doesn’t say much for the films in this month when the majority of them don’t make it into this category for any of the big three, and perhaps that just proves how middling they were for the most part. The first film from this month that makes it into this category is Iron Man 2 which was nominated for one Academy Award (Best Visual Effects) which it wouldn’t win, but it was still a win for Marvel to at least get an Academy Award nod. The other film from this month that makes it into this category is Sex and the City 2 which would win three Golden Raspberry Awards (Worst Actress, Worst Prequel, Remake, Rip-off, or Sequel, and Worst Screen Ensemble) while being nominated for four more (Worst Picture, Worst Director, Worst Supporting Actress, and Worst Screenplay) which reaffirms its status as one of the worst films of the year. We will see going forward if this category becomes more meatier in the coming months, but right now it is not off to the best start for the 2010-2011 season.

Overall Thoughts of May 2010:

Overall, the month of May 2010 was a pretty solid month though after looking deeper into it, it was not as good as I had originally thought and because of that I had to knock the grade very slightly. Usually when you have a couple of films do very well, you tend to skew the grade for the month towards that and you just assume that the rest of the films from that month didn’t have that much of an impact. But when you compare it to previous months with the same grade, you realize that the month was not as good as originally thought and that happens here as this month was not an “A” level month like I thought. Having said that, this month did have some successes with Iron Man 2 and Shrek Forever After driving most of the business, and the rest of the films either bombed, underdelivered, or met their expectations which were probably low going in and we will see how things continue to play out through the summer. As for the month of May 2010, it is a pretty good month though it does have to be considered a bit of a disappointment given the number of what looked like strong contenders being released this month.

Final Grade: B+