#i hate being put against my own family and feel its Unfair to demand i hold grudges and make things worse when i was very unwell

[seithr]

i went to lunch with my dad today and with regards to pride month starting it came up in conversation

today's revelations

my mom knew i was "a homosexual" already based on a different time I brought it up in the past but I assumed was forgotten

so her blowing up on me a few weeks ago for coming out AGAIN was needless drama and exaggerration and screaming

—that has left me with a fear response to certain words and clothing and locations now.

My Dad: Yeah she'd called me about "I don't want MY child being a homosexual" not long after your trip to her gay friend's wedding which I thought was really hypocritical of her to say.

...before this trip I'd argued with her about her hidden partner, where she said, quote "don't i deserve to be happy? don't i deserve happiness with someone?"

huh.

anyways my dad is now inviting me to pride.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader

I am not your concern 

masterlist | part 2 

summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao

chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound! 

Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.

“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”

“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”

“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.

“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”

“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”

“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”

“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.

“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ”

Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”

“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”

“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”

“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.

As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”

She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”

“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”

“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”

“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.

“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.

“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”

“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”

“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.

Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.

Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.

-

After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.

Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.

“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”

She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”

Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”

He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”

“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”

His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”

She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”

Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”

She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”

“What happened to your father?” he questioned.

Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.

Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.

“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”

“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”

“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”

Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.

He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.

And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[laineystein]

“This is new.”

The Boy™️ and I went out for his birthday on Thursday night. His favorite restaurant happens to be close to where we both grew up so we drove through the same neighborhoods that raised us - streets we walked to get to school or back and forth from the houses we grew up in. Of course, we ran into three separate people we knew. This seems to be a trend lately. It’s like our past, every little detail we’ve been so good at keeping hidden, keeps rearing its head, demanding to be dealt with. One of the people we ran into was a teacher we both had in yeshiva and they commented “oh, this is new!” And we both smiled and laughed and wished them a good shabbat. We didn’t talk about it then but we spent Shabbos together – alone – and we spent most of the night unpacking all of it.  

 This wasn’t the first time we’d heard it. It’s all anyone seems to say lately. When I had a ride to the airport at 4am and my mother strong-armed me into admitting who it was she said “oh, that’s new”. When his Modox parents were a bit passive-agressive toward me earlier in the summer because suddenly I was *everywhere*, I finally got his mother to admit that she worried about our relationship simply because it “came out of nowhere”…because “it’s new” and a lot of our “decisions seem impulsive.”

  No. This isn’t new. We’re not new. Our relationship is 15 years old. This has been a thing - many things, actually - for a decade and a half. I have been in love with this man for half of my life but to the world, even the people we love the most, yes - this is new. And I can’t argue with them. We don’t. We have no idea how to handle this. 

  We were fifteen and sixteen. Simply put - being a teenager means being young and dumb and somehow being terrified and craving happiness in equal amounts. He was (is) my best friend’s brother and they’re extremely close. On top of that, he’s Modox and I wasn’t and am not. His family never treated me differently, even when other families did - especially early on at yeshiva when it was very clear that I was raised differently than most of my classmates. But I loved them and they loved me. They loved me as their daughter’s best friend. It didn’t make sense to explain that I was more than that with their son - especially because we didn’t know what that was. 

We were teenagers! We were intense and fearless and manic and we were absolutely terrified of letting anyone down. We’re both the first born in our immigrant Jewish families. There has always been so much pressure on each of us to be the best - the smartest, the most hardworking. For him - the most devout. We both had to marry well and have big Jewish families. We were the product of generations of trauma - children and grandchildren of families that had consistently escaped persecution and now we were seemingly well adjusted teenagers in America, finally free to live the lives everyone who came before us fought so hard for. It was a lot of pressure, all the time. But together? No pressure. The things I struggled to tell his sister - how much I hated my yeshiva uniform, how marriage and children weren’t in the forefront of my mind yet…everything I couldn’t tell anyone else in the world, I told The Boy™️.

That’s where the name comes from - and those of you who used to follow my studyblr know I talked about him often. I never talked about him by name. His sister always thought I had someone in Israel that I had this big crush on. And I did. When he was in Israel with me I had a huge crush on him. But I loved him in Brooklyn too. I loved him when we traveled to France and Amsterdam and Italy. I spent four out of my five IDF civilians (time off from the military) with him and no one knew. We have lived so many lives together. We’ve experienced so many things, side by side, and no one had any clue. And we watched each other love other people and try to make it work with people that weren’t us. But ultimately he was the one who helped me through breakups and med school. He was the person that literally saved my life in 2020 when my shifts at the hospital during COVID had me so mentally and physically exhausted that I could barely get out of bed…literally. Then when things calmed down I realized, it didn’t matter what was going on in the world, he’s always been my biggest supporter and I cannot and will not live without him and the fact that we weren’t sharing this thing that made us both so undeniably happy just felt ridiculous and unfair.

But we didn’t know how to even explain everything so we kind of…didn’t? It was never “this is my best friend and we’re in love” it was “I’m going to Israel and he’s coming too”. We alternated Shabbos between his parents’ house and mine. All the while everyone is hesitant, almost nervous - this is new, this is new, this is new. It’s not new. But this is the first time we’re admitting how we feel and what we are to the people we love. He’s not just my friend’s brother. He’s not even just my best friend or my boyfriend. He’s the man I want to marry and have a family with. I get why our families are so confused. They have no idea all we’ve done and how so many of the things they celebrate in us - our jobs, our successes, our faith - is because of the other.

  So we have to start being honest. They’ll never truly get it if they can’t see how deep it is, if they can’t acknowledge the history. But how do we explain it? We are who we are because once upon a time we were both really struggling with our faith. We thought we were terrible Jews because we didn’t want the things our parents wanted. I didn’t believe in tzniut. Some days he didn’t either. We were doing things we were told kids in yeshiva don’t do! We were having sex and smoking weed and going to bars in the city because we could. But it wasn’t about being a part of the goy world. We didn’t want that. We just wanted to be who we were in the Jewish world and we had no idea how to do that. For so long it felt like it was us against the world - Jewish and gentle. We didn’t fit in with either but we could be who we wanted to be, together, in this weird in-between. He’s safety. He always has been. When I have a thought and I know no one in the world will understand it, I know he’s the exception. We always felt like we were judged, even inadvertently by people who swore they were being open minded and supportive, but together that was never a worry. So how do we explain that? 

We don’t. We won’t. We need to be honest about some things: about how far our friendship goes back, about the depth of it - then and now. Everyone else is free to make their own assumptions. They can draw their own conclusions or they can just learn to accept us as we are now. The weird part is that everyone has been much more accepting than we imagined - especially his sister. She loves our relationship so much, to the point that we feel bad for keeping it from her for so long. But we don’t know if we’d be who we are now if we hadn’t lived this other life together. We weren’t wrong. Having this one thing in life that is untouched by the world was magical. We still have days where we miss it, especially now as questions of marriage and children flood in. But we’ve agreed that we’ll be honest with our children. All of it. 

I guess a lot of this for us wasn’t just about *us* but about who each of us are as people. We’ve always worn so many labels. We’re completely opposites but we have fundamental similarities. We both love being Jewish. We’re loud and proud, unapologetic Jews. But we weren’t always! And the secret nature of our relationship aside, that’s what’s the most difficult for us to acknowledge publicly - myself in particular. I get a lot of that - often from many of you. I am so so honored that where I am with my faith today, at 31, is something so many of you admire. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much that means to me. But I guess it’s important to note that this was a journey. I was a mess. I always loved being a Jew but for several years I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know that I had the power to write my own narrative and live my life as a Jew on my own terms. The strength and confidence you see now is because all of the bullshit I went through before. Even now I am constantly learning. Every day I become more and more secure in my role as a Jewish woman, now that I can define what that means for me. 

And that’s all I want for any of you! Live your Jewish truth! We are all products of so much hardship. We really do deserve to be the best version of ourselves. We deserve happiness and security in our relationships, in our careers, in every aspect of life possible. And if you’re not there yet - if you wake up wondering where you fit into the Tribe, that’s okay! You will get there! Being a Jew is a super power!!! You just need to figure out how to be a Jew in a way that makes the most sense to you. There truly is no one way to be a Jew - no wrong way to be a Jew. Being a Jew, in any capacity, makes you an awesome Jew. I wish I had someone to tell me that but I didn’t. It took me many years to be where I am now. So for anyone who needs to hear it: you’re an awesome Jew and I’m so proud of you! 

[demivampirew]

Brothers

An August-Walter one-shot

Summary: August helps his twin brother rescue you, who’d been kidnapped.

Triggers: Kidnapping; death; drunk-driving; violence; use of curse words; heartbreak; family problems; death of parents

Tag list: @lunedelorient​​ @henrythickcavill​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @mary-ann84​ @desperate-and-broken​ @peakygroupie​ @summersong69​ @ivvitm1109​ @madbaddic7ed​

The phone kept ringing non-stop. August was finishing getting ready to go meet Erika Slone to give him the information about a new case. He looked at the screen when it started but ignored it when he saw who was the caller. He hadn't talked to his brother in years and long before that their relationship was not at its best. He'd never forgive Walter for blaming him for their parent's death, even though he blamed himself as well - he should have told his parents he had more than a few drinks before driving them off to the airport for their trip. But he didn't want to disappoint them, to give them a reason to once more complain about how fucked up he was and that he should be more like his sibling; the golden child, the one that could do no wrong. After half an hour of the constant ringing, August finally decided to accept the call. - What the hell you want, Walter? I'm busy.- He said angrily and annoyed. - Y/N was kidnapped. - Walter said. His brother could hear the fear and sadness on his voice. He was heartbroken. But he wasn't the only one. As soon as he heard those words, it felt as if someone dig a hand into his chest and crushed his heart. Their relationship was bad, but they tried to get along for a while and they succeeded until you came along. You moved next to his house and became friends with him. He fell for you and thought about giving everything up for you. He planned to get a normal job, to carry a simple life so you'll never be in danger and could be happy. Yet, life was once more unfair to him. Walter showed up one thanksgiving to spent the day with him and you were there. Long story short, he soon had you on his arms. The golden child, the one who could do no wrong, made the woman of his dreams fall deeply in love with him. August thought about sharing his feelings with you, but he saw that there was no point. You soon moved out to live with Walter, taking all the light in his life with you. After that, he lost all contact with his remaining family. He knew; his brother knew how he felt about you, but his feelings towards you made him ignored how selfish it was to be with the woman his own blood loved and did exactly that. That's when August realized he and his brother would never be in good terms again. He'll never forgive him for that. Now, hearing that you've been taken and that you could be suffering right now or even worse made him feel nauseous and filled him with anger. He wanted to find the people who did that to you and kill them. If someone made you suffer, they would suffer twice the pain you have. And he wanted to hurt his brother. How he let that happen? If you would be with him, he'd had murder anyone who tried to put a hand on you. - I know you hate me... I don't blame you for that. But I also know you care a great deal about her.- Walter continued after a long silence.- I'm using all the sources I have and asking favours to people I know looking for help to find her, but her whereabouts are still unknown. I'm begging you, Charlie, help me find her.- he begged. - August. Charlie not longer exists and you know that. - he corrected him. He heard his brother sigh. - August.-he accepted.- Please. I know your resources are bigger than mine. I need you to help me get her back safe. - What information do you have about her disappearance?- he requested - The last person to see her was her boss. She said that after leaving the store, she saw her get in her car and then she turned to read a phone message and when she looked back, the car was gone. We checked the security cameras of the store and there was no footage of that day. The same thing happened with the ones two blocks around her working place. After that, there's no sign of her or her car or any car for the matter. It's like if she had vanished.- Walter explained worriedly. - That's because that was the plan of the people who took her.- August assured furious- This wasn't a job of a creep. Whoever kidnapped her, knew exactly what was doing, who she was and planned it. - You think that...this is about taking her as a sex...-his brother couldn't even finish the sentence. - No. This is more personal. This is about revenge.- he sighed, closing his hand in a fist to control his rage. He felt a fire raising in his body. People would get hurt. He would make sure of that. There was a long silence before anyone spoke again. Both brothers were suffering, fearing the worst. - Keep me informed about any new information you find. - August ordered Walter. - Same for you.-he agreed.- And Char... August, thank you. - I'm not doing this for you.- he replied. - I know. Still, thank you.- he finished and August hung out the phone with saying anything else. It was revenge, there was no doubt of that on August's head. The question was revenge against who? For what? This wasn't about you; you were just an employee at a clothing shop. A lovely woman who wouldn't hurt a fly. So why anyone would want to hurt you? No, the plan was to use you against someone close to you. There were only two people that could have somebody wanting revenge: Walter, a police Lieutenant working on homicide section of the force or, well, himself; a double agent working for the CIA and with a rebellious organization looking to tear down the CIA from the inside. Could have someone on the CIA found out that August was also John Lark and was trying to attack him for that?  How could that be possible? He was pretty good a covering everything up, although he had to admit to himself that that seemed more likely that someone trying to hurt Walter. That infuriated him more. He hated himself his entire life for causing his parents deaths; he could even allow the thought of being the reason something bad happened to you. He immediately contacted all The Apostles working in the CIA to search for her.  He had to go to meet Sloane so she wouldn't find out about you. If this wasn't her doing, it was best for her not to know that there was someone he cared about if someday things went wrong. He pretended to care about the mission. As much as he wanted to do nothing but search for you, he needed to do what his boss asked him to. His mission was to find a folder with secret information that could hurt the organization. Something that the Apostles would love to have access to. I took him two days to recover the archives and made a copy before returned them to Erika Slone. She was impressed by the speed of his work, that she granted him a few days off to handle personal business. The people working with him in secret were not happy with him using their resources to find an "insignificant woman," as one of them pointed out to August, which unleashed his anger and he beat him until he was agonizing. After that nobody questioned him anymore. The more time it passed without knowing about you, the more desperate he'd get and the more dangerous he became. He tried to sleep because he needed to be ready to fight, but there was no chance he'd sleep knowing you were still in danger. He texted his brother a few times to check for new information but he was clueless as he was.

Three weeks had passed since the last time you were seeing. And, for the first time, August had received useful information. Your father, whom you haven't seen since you were twelve years old, had adopted a new identity years ago, putting himself in a protection witness program after giving up some dangerous gangsters he used to work for. August took the first flight he found to Florida to search for him. The man in his middle sixties entered his apartment to find the tall, muscle man wearing a brown suit with a beige shirt and a tie. The big man was sitting on the couch, that looked much smaller than it was with him sitting on it. August stood up, fixing his blazer, adopting a further dangerous appearance. - Who are you? - you father asked. - Your worst nightmare if you don't cooperate.- he warned him. - What do you want from me?- he questioned - Your daughter - Walker started - I have not daughter.- the man replied, shaking - Your new you doesn't, but the old one does. Remember Y/N? The daughter you cowardly abandoned when she was a child? She's been taken by someone and I want to find her. As soon as August explained the reason for his visit, your progenitor covered his face with both hands, sitting on a chair, crying. - My little girl... I thought she'd been safe without me around.- he cried.- They've taken her. This is their doing.- he assured. - Who are they?- August demanded he was about to lose all the remaining patience. - My former boss. He's one of the biggest gangsters in the country. He's bad news. - your father informed.- I started to work for him when y/n was born and I had recently lost my job and was desperate for money. I had a daughter to take care of. At first, my job was simple, just being his driver. Soon enough, my job included cleaning blood for the car and covering for him and help his people get rid of bodies. One day I could no take that anymore, so I confessed the story to the FBI and they offered protection if I gave them all the information necessary to arrest him, so I did that. My family didn't know about my wrongdoings, so I prefered for them to think that I abandoned them to know what kind of man I was. The FBI was supposed to take care of her. August sighed. A part of him wanted to crush his skull for being the reason you were in danger and for abandoned you, and other part felt a little sympathy. He also knew what it was to make mistakes that caused pain to loved ones. - Probably they did that until she was an adult and thought she was safe when she started to date a police Lieutenant.- your partner's brother explained.- Tell me everything you got on him. There has to be any useful information you can give me to find her. - Who are you? Why are you doing this? - I'm someone who'd do anything to bring her home safe and that's all you need to know. Now, start talking.

August found you on a room laid on a bed. You were on fetal position, covering your face with your hands, facing the wall. He approached you and stroke your hair and you turned around quickly, shaking of fear. Your eyes were red and a bit swelled due to crying. As soon as you realized who it was, you hugged him with all the strength you had left and cry. He embraced you, pulling you closer to him, making you feel safe. He gave you his blazer to keep you warm and help you get out. He covered your face and asked you not to watch, but you inevitable you saw a room filled with dead bodies. You closed your eyes trying to erase that image. He sat you on the passenger seat of a car and soon he was sitting on the driver's side. He drove for a few hours and then stopped at the side of the road. You looked at him and he smiled at you, stroking your face and pulling the hair behind your ear. " Walter is picking you up here. He's on his way," August explained. You nodded. You tried to grab his hand, but pulled right away when you felt the heat of his skin; your hands were freezing and you didn't want him to be cold. He noticed that, so he took your hand and use his hands to warm them up. "Thank you, Aust," you said smiling, "thank you so much". You took him by surprise. It's been such a long time since he heard you call him Aust, the nickname you gave him soon after you became friends with him. He missed that, a lot. He turned the heat of the car for you to get warm. Two hours later, you saw a car stop in front of you. It was Walter's Ford F-150. As soon as you recognized it, you jumped out of the car and ran into him. He imitated you, getting off the car just in time to catch you when you thew yourself into his arms. He hugged you, putting his hand on the back of your head in a protective manner. You could feel his heavy breath. He grabbed a big jacket from the back of the car and put it on you, giving you his gloves as well. Walter faced his brother when he approached to make sure you were ok before he left. He offered a hand for August to shake, thanking him for saving you. He, as stubborn as he was, ignored him and turned around and started to walk off. Before getting into the car, he shouted to you not to worry, that he had taken care of the bad guys and now you were completely safe and then he turned on the car and drove away. You hugged and kissed Walter. He kissed all over your face and then helped you get on the car to take you home.

[leafinthebreeze]

Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers

“It’s about secret things. The Destructive Narcissistic Parent creates a child that only exists to be an extension of herself....

Because her abusiveness is part of a lifelong campaign of control and because she is careful to rationalize her abuse, it is extremely difficult to explain to other people what is so bad about her. She’s also careful about when and how she engages in her abuses. She’s very secretive, a characteristic of almost all abusers (“Don’t wash our dirty laundry in public!”) and will punish you for telling anyone else what she’s done. The times and locations of her worst abuses are carefully chosen so that no one who might intervene will hear or see her bad behavior, and she will seem like a completely different person in public.

She’ll slam you to other people, but will always embed her devaluing nuggets of snide gossip in protestations of concern, love and understanding (“I feel so sorry for poor Cynthia. She always seems to have such a hard time, but I just don’t know what I can do for her!”) As a consequence the children of narcissists universally report that no one believes them ...

She violates your boundaries.

Your property may be repossessed and no reason was given other than that it was never yours. You have never known what it is like to have privacy..  She asks nosy questions, snoops into your email/letters/diary/conversations. She will want to dig into your feelings, particularly painful ones and is always looking for negative information on you which can be used against you. She does things against your expressed wishes frequently.  Any attempt at autonomy on your part is strongly resisted.

She favoritizes.

Narcissistic mothers commonly choose one (sometimes more) child to be the golden child and one (sometimes more) to be the scapegoat. The narcissist identifies with the golden child and provides privileges to him or her as long as the golden child does just as she wants. The golden child has to be cared for assiduously by everyone in the family. The scapegoat has no needs and instead gets to do the caring. The golden child can do nothing wrong. The scapegoat is always at fault. This creates divisions between the children, one of whom has a large investment in the mother being wise and wonderful, and the other(s) who hate her. That division will be fostered by the narcissist with lies and with blatantly unfair and favoritizing behavior. The golden child will defend the mother and indirectly perpetuate the abuse by finding reasons to blame the scapegoat for the mother’s actions. The golden child may also directly take on the narcissistic mother’s tasks by physically abusing the scapegoat so the narcissistic mother doesn’t have to do that herself.

She minimizes, discounts or ignores your opinions and experiences. Your insights are met with condescension, denials and accusations (“I think you read too much!”) and she will brush off your information even on subjects on which you are an acknowledged expert. Whatever you say is met with smirks and amused sounding or exaggerated exclamations (“Uh hunh!” “You don’t say!” “Really!”). She’ll then make it clear that she didn’t listen to a word you said.

She will claim not to remember even very memorable events, flatly denying they ever happened, nor will she ever acknowledge any possibility that she might have forgotten. This is an extremely aggressive and exceptionally infuriating tactic called “gaslighting,” common to abusers of all kinds. Your perceptions of reality are continually undermined so that you end up without any confidence in your intuition, your memory or your powers of reasoning. This makes you a much better victim for the abuser. Narcissists gaslight routinely. You’re oversensitive.

Once she’s constructed these fantasies of your emotional pathologies, she’ll tell others about them, as always, presenting her smears as expressions of concern and declaring her own helpless victimhood. She didn’t do anything. She has no idea why you’re so irrationally angry with her. You’ve hurt her terribly. She thinks you may need psychotherapy. She loves you very much and would do anything to make you happy, but she just doesn’t know what to do. You keep pushing her away when all she wants to do is help you.

She has simultaneously absolved herself of any responsibility for your obvious antipathy towards her, implied that it’s something fundamentally wrong with you that makes you angry with her, and undermined your credibility with her listeners. She plays the role of the doting mother so perfectly that no one will believe you.

Narcissistic mothers infamously attempt to damage their children’s marriages..

To you, she’ll lie blatantly. She will claim to be unable to remember bad things she has done, even if she did one of them recently and even if it was something very memorable.  Your conversations with her are full of casual brush-offs and diversionary lies and she doesn’t respect you enough to bother making it sound good. For example she’ll start with a self-serving lie: “If I don’t take you as a dependent on my taxes I’ll lose three thousand dollars!” You refute her lie with an obvious truth: “No, three thousand dollars is the amount of the dependent exemption. You’ll only lose about eight hundred dollars.” Her response: “Isn’t that what I said?” You are now in a game with only one rule: You can’t win. 

On the rare occasions she is forced to acknowledge some bad behavior, she will couch the admission deniably. She “guesses” that “maybe” she “might have” done something wrong. The wrongdoing is always heavily spun and trimmed to make it sound better. The words “I guess,” “maybe,” and “might have” are in and of themselves lies because she knows exactly what she did – no guessing, no might haves, no maybes. 

This need is a defining trait of narcissists and particularly of narcissistic mothers for whom their children exist to be sources of attention and adoration. She has always pouted, manipulated or raged if you tried to do anything without her, didn’t want to entertain her, refused to wait on her, stymied her plans for a drama or otherwise deprived her of attention.      

Older narcissistic mothers often use the natural limitations of aging to manipulate dramas, often by neglecting their health or by doing things they know will make them ill. This gives them the opportunity to cash in on the investment they made when they trained you to wait on them as a child.

She manipulates your emotions in order to feed on your pain.

This exceptionally sick and bizarre behavior is so common among narcissistic mothers that their children often call them “emotional vampires.” Some of this emotional feeding comes in the form of pure sadism. She does and says things just to be wounding or she engages in tormenting teasing or she needles you about things you’re sensitive about, all the while a smile plays over her lips. She may have taken you to scary movies or told you horrifying stories, then mocked you for being a baby when you cried; she will slip a wounding comment into conversation and smile delightedly into your hurt face. She wants you to know that your pain entertains her. She may bring up subjects that are painful for you and probe you about them, all the while watching you carefully. This is emotional vampirism in its purest form. She’s feeding emotionally off your pain.

A peculiar form of this emotional vampirism combines attention-seeking behavior with a demand that the audience suffer. Since narcissistic mothers often play the martyr this may take the form of wrenching, self-pitying dramas which she carefully produces, and in which she is the star performer. She sobs and wails that no one loves her...  

She’s selfish and willful.

She has to show you that you can’t tell her “no.”

She’s self-absorbed.

Her feelings, needs and wants are very important; yours are insignificant to the point that her least whim takes precedence over your most basic needs. Her problems deserve your immediate and full attention; yours are brushed aside. Her wishes always take precedence; if she does something for you, she reminds you constantly of her munificence in doing so and will often try to extract some sort of payment. She will complain constantly, even though your situation may be much worse than hers. If you point that out, she will effortlessly, thoughtlessly brush it aside as of no importance...  

If you criticize her or defy her she will explode with fury, threaten, storm, rage, destroy and may become violent..

For all abusers, fear is a powerful means of control of the victim, and your narcissistic mother used it ruthlessly to train you. Even adult children of narcissists still feel that carefully inculcated fear.   

Not all narcissists abuse physically, but most do, often in subtle, deniable ways. It allows them to vent their rage at your failure to be the solution to their internal havoc and simultaneously to teach you to fear them.

She resents having to take care of you.

Narcissistic mothers also abuse by loosing others on you or by failing to protect you when a normal mother would have. Sometimes the narcissist’s golden child will be encouraged to abuse the scapegoat. Narcissists also abuse by exposing you to violence. If one of your siblings got beaten, she made sure you saw. She effortlessly put the fear of Mom into you, without raising a hand.

Narcissistic mothers are often simply childish. If you refuse to let her manipulate you into doing something, she will cry that you don’t love her because if you loved her you would do as she wanted. If you hurt her feelings she will aggressively whine to you that you’ll be sorry when she’s dead that you didn’t treat her better. These babyish complaints and responses may sound laughable, but the narcissist is dead serious about them. When you were a child, if you ask her to stop some bad behavior, she would justify it by pointing out something that you did that she feels is comparable, as though the childish behavior of a child is justification for the childish behavior of an adult. “Getting even” is a large part of her dealings with you. Anytime you fail to give her the deference, attention or service she feels she deserves, or you thwart her wishes, she has to show you.

She doesn’t ask. She demands. She makes outrageous requests and she’ll take anything she wants if she thinks she can get away with it. Her demands of her children are posed in a very aggressive way, as are her criticisms. She won’t take no for an answer, pushing and arm-twisting and manipulating to get you to give in.

She shed her responsibilities to you as soon as she was able, leaving you to take care of yourself as best you could. She denied you medical care, adequate clothing, necessary transportation or basic comforts that she would never have considered giving up for herself.

She also gave you tasks that were rightfully hers and should not have been placed on a child. You may have been a primary caregiver for young siblings or an incapacitated parent. You may have had responsibility for excessive household tasks. Above all, you were always her emotional caregiver which is one reason any defection from that role caused such enormous eruptions of rage. You were never allowed to be needy or have bad feelings or problems. Those experiences were only for her, and you were responsible for making it right for her. From the time you were very young she would randomly lash out at you any time she was stressed or angry with your father or felt that life was unfair to her, because it made her feel better to hurt you. You were often punished out of the blue, for manufactured offenses. As you got older she directly placed responsibility for her welfare and her emotions on you, weeping on your shoulder and unloading on you any time something went awry for her.

she will sometimes project even though it makes no sense at all. This happens when she feels shamed and needs to put it on her scapegoat child and the projection therefore comes across as being an attack out of the blue.

She seems to have no awareness that other people even have feelings.

She’ll occasionally slip and say something jaw-droppingly callous because of this lack of empathy. It isn’t that she doesn’t care at all about other people’s feelings, though she doesn’t. It would simply never occur to her to think about their feelings. An absence of empathy is the defining trait of a narcissist and underlies most of the other traits I have described.

She’ll also blame you for your reaction to her selfish, cruel and exploitative behavior.

Narcissists are masters of multitasking as this example shows. Simultaneously your narcissistic mother is Lying. She knows what she did was wrong and she knows your reaction is reasonable. Manipulating. She’s making you look like the bad guy for objecting to her cruelties. Being selfish. She doesn’t mind making you feel horrible as long as she gets her own way. Blaming. She did something wrong, but it’s all your fault. Projecting. Her petty, small and childish behavior has become yours. Putting on a self-pitying drama. She’s a martyr who believed the best of you, and you’ve let her down. Parentifying. You’re responsible for her feelings, she has no responsibility for yours.

In part, these women foster dissension between their children because they enjoy the control it gives them. If those children don’t communicate except through the mother, she can decide what everyone hears. Narcissists also love the excitement and drama they create by interfering in their children’s lives. Watching people’s lives explode is better than soap operas, especially when you don’t have any empathy for their misery.

The narcissist also uses favoritism and gossip to poison her childrens’ relationships. The scapegoat sees the mother as a creature of caprice and cruelty. As is typical of the privileged, the other children don’t see her unfairness and they excuse her abuses. Indeed, they are often recruited by the narcissist to adopt her contemptuous and entitled attitude towards the scapegoat and with her tacit or explicit permission, will inflict further abuse. The scapegoat predictably responds with fury and equal contempt. After her children move on with adult lives, the narcissist makes sure to keep each apprised of the doings of the others, passing on the most discreditable and juicy gossip (as always, disguised as “concern”) about the other children, again, in a way that engenders contempt rather than compassion.

The end result is a family in which almost all communication is triangular. The narcissist, the spider in the middle of the family web, sensitively monitors all the children for information she can use to retain her unchallenged control over the family. She then passes that on to the others, creating the resentments that prevent them from communicating directly and freely with each other. The result is that the only communication between the children is through the narcissist, exactly the way she wants it.

As a last resort she goes pathetic.

When she’s confronted with unavoidable consequences for her own bad behavior, including your anger, she will melt into a soggy puddle of weepy helplessness. It’s all her fault. She can’t do anything right. She feels so bad. What she doesn’t do: own the responsibility for her bad conduct and make it right. Instead, as always, it’s all about her, and her helpless self-pitying weepiness dumps the responsibility for her consequences AND for her unhappiness about it on you. As so often with narcissists, it is also a manipulative behavior. If you fail to excuse her bad behavior and make her feel better, YOU are the bad person for being cold, heartless and unfeeling when your poor mother feels so awful.

https://themindsjournal.com/characteristics-of-narcissistic-mothers/7/

[ccfstephaniebrown]

Because you forgot how to love me. || Tim  & Steph || Chatzy

Tim and Steph face each other in the Batcave

@redrobinxdrake

Stephanie waddled her way down to the cave as quickly as she could. Baby Drake was getting too big, and she resembled more an apple with legs then her usual self. She was livid. When Conner had told her where Tim was, she hadn't believed it. Bruce wouldn’t just lock him away. He was supposed to be in a room. He was supposed to be able to come and go as he pleased. But what Kon had described was a prison! She moved quickly Tim's Gotham U hoodie stretched wide over her belly and her black leggings doing little to keep her warm. "BRUCE," she yelled, "BRUCE!" He wasn't there. How dare he not be here when she found out what he had done. She was putting an end to this. She didn't care if she had to play the pregnant card. They were exhausting her. She moved down the cave's hall towards the prisons until she could see him. Laying in the glass case like he was a caged animal. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is not what Bruce sold us on. I swear Tim. We would never let him lock you up like this.

Tim settled into the warmth of the scratchy wool blanket, his hands prepared to catch the smooth leather baseball. The confines of his room felt chillingly comforting in the wake of his latest sparring session with Barbara. It took every trump card for him to convince the big dog to crank down the homey comforts. He didn’t deserve cable, dressers of grandeur, or the view of the city. He deserved to be a prisoner. His mind no longer a comfortable place to hide or concoct some scheme to harm anyone else. Tim caught the baseball between his palms, a brow lifted to the voice that through his sanctum of sorrow. “You didn’t allow him to do anything. He didn’t lock me up,” he opened his eyes to take on her rounding figure. “This was my idea.”  

Stephanie looked at him, horrified. "Why would you do this," Stephanie demanded, slamming her hands against the glass. She was furious. Furious at everything. The unfairness that Tim had "died" on her after promising to never leave her alone. The fact that they hadn't found him. That it had been Talia, who had found him. "WHAT DID SHE SAY TO YOU? WHAT DID SHE SAY THAT YOU CAN'T GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD," Stephanie demand anger and frustration evident in her eyes. She was tired of this bullshit. The first thing she would do after Baby Drake was born and she got her body back, would be to hunt down Talia and chop her up till there was nothing to resurrect. She hated the woman. She hurt everyone Stephanie loved and kept hurting them. Jason was right. Some people just deserved to die.

Tim’s jaw set at the continuous pounding of the glass. His expression unchanged but the worry swirling dangerously in his pit. This amount of stress on the baby wasn’t right; she knew this but didn’t care. The underside of her palms was reddening with each wild slam against the glass. The baseball fell from his grasp, rolling beneath his cot, as Tim rose to face her. Her reflection cast in contrast to his own in the mirroring glass. “That I wasn’t worthy of being saved but that I could be.” His words were softer. “You need to calm down, Stephanie. If you keep on, you will push yourself and our child into early labor.” Tim slowly had come to the terms of this new life. With or without all the pieces.

Stephanie sobbed, how dare he talk about their child. It was a miracle every day in her book that she hadn't lost their baby with the amount of stress she had been under the last eight months. Steph chaulked it up to the fact the baby was a Bat. Thru and thru, Baby Drake was a fighter who would survive having her as a mom and their crazy family that was always in trouble but would die for each other. "And you believed her because I wasn't enough. We weren't enough to keep you anchored to this life. You don't get to scold me about the baby Tim. You've made it clear you don't want anything to do with us, and while I'm strong enough to have my heart broken by you every day. I'll be damned if I let you break her heart. Because its a girl, Tim, she needs her daddy. Every girl does, even those of us who have crappy dads like mine. We need a daddy to tell us we're beautiful when boys say we're ugly. To tell us we're worth the wait when boys try to pressure us for more. To tell us its not our fault when we're not strong enough to fight back. We need daddies, and she needs hers. But you're too busy trying to be punished to realized that. You haven't even checked on us. You haven't asked about her. I want to love you and believe in you. I want you back in any way I can have you. But you have to want to come back, and I'm beginning to think it's because you don't want us," Stephanie confessed.

Tim’s features were steeped in the darkness that crowded his soul. He didn’t know what he wanted more. Love or the peace in atoning in the eternal fires of his own doing. Stephanie’s words cut him in places that he didn’t know still mattered. He ached but refused to be derailed by her emotional manipulations. “I believed her because she pulled me out of the grave and I was alone. Alone in my thoughts, and I was scared. I don’t know anything for sure...nothing feels real.” He turned away from her. His hands clenched and unclenching. “Maybe she’s better off without me. Maybe both of you are.” His heart broke silently in his chest. He knew if he pulled the cord now, there was no going back. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man you need me to be. I’m trying to figure out who I am because I’m not her tool. I’m not Robin. I don’t know who I am, but I can’t be him. No matter how deeply I wish I could be.”

Stephanie screamed and slammed her hands again, unable to reach him to slap him. "You're Tim Fucking Drake. She fucking stole you from Bruce. Cause he found you first. Did she tell you that? Cause Babs told me. Bruce should've but we fucking chalk it up to Bruce can't admit when he's been outsmarted, and he's an asshole by trade. But Bruce had you. Was caring for you. But Talia stole you like she's stealing you from our child. You're not the coward she has made you. You're Tim Drake. You are the man who saved Conner Kent from Cadmus and then proceeded to protect him while he got on his feet. You protected fucking Superboy. You’re Tim Drake who out-witted Ra's Al Ghul when Oliver Queen caved to him. You’re Tim Drake who saved Barbara Gordon when she was possessed by an AI and figured it out like it was a computer virus. You did those things, all on your own. Not with me or Bruce or Babs or Dick or even Jason. You were the man who figured out my father was coming after me when no one else had an idea of it. You're not Robin. You haven't been for a long time. You were never her tool. You made a choice to follow me. To trust me. And DAMMIT I DESERVE BETTER THEN THIS," she screamed. "So get over your fucking self. I'm scared, Tim. All the time. We both know what a fucking train-wreck I am. I can only hold the bullshit persona of the mom who knows what she's doing for so long. I'm susceptible to postpartum depression. I need you to get your head outta your ass and help me as you promised. Because you made me believe I deserved better than to let, people, leave me like I was the street rat that everyone told me I was. And we have rules that only one of us can be broken at a time, and I'm a month away from pushing something the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon. I need you cause I'm scared I'm going to die and she's going to be alone in this world, and it wakes me up in the middle of the night because you won't get better. You keep hiding away instead of getting the help you need cause I don't want to leave our baby in the world alone. "

The truth steamrolled over him. It felt as if all the air in his chest had been forced out. Tim turned on his heels, all the anger finally surfacing onto his features. Why couldn’t they all just leave him? Didn’t they get that with every new development a part of him broke? “You do deserve better, Stephanie.” His palms flattened against the glass, rooting him back to the calm he needed to get back too. “You aren’t alone. You have Barbara and Jason and Dick. Hell, you finally won over Bruce,” his eyes softened as they tangled up in hers. God, she was even more beautiful when she was fired up. “You are stronger than you think and it’s about damn time you stop hiding that in this relationship. You don’t know what I want or what I have been through. You don’t know how desperately I want to go back. Back to when I had control. I don’t. I’m not afraid of who I was or what I did. I can accept the bad, but I’m afraid of the new me. I'm afraid of hurting the only thing in the world that makes me feel right, and that’s you.”

Stephanie sobbed feeling something in her break Too tired and stressed to remain standing she down the wall and cried in frustration and hurt and fear and anger. Nothing she did was right. She couldn't save Tim. She failed to protect him. How could she possibly raise a baby on her own? "They all will leave. That's what people do in my life. They leave me. My dad left me for crime. Mom left me for drugs. Babs left me over and over again. Jason and Dick both have lives. You left me. It's the one thing I can count on. People leave. She looked up at the bats in the cave. Misery radiated from her. "I can't help you. I can't fix you, because you're not broken, and I think in all of this that's the most frustrating part. You keep thinking you need to be fixed. That we're trying to fix you. But its Kintsugi, the cracks, the damage is what makes me love you all the more."

“I never wanted to leave you, Stephanie.” Tim’s forehead leaned into the frosty glass. “Please take a breath for our little girl and for me.” He pleaded. Tim shifted slightly out of view of the camera perched in the corner. Constant surveillance had a downside. “What if I can’t love the cracks? What if they make me weak and angry all the damn time?”

"They're supposed to. I look in the mirror, and I see the girl who nearly destroyed Gotham with a gang war. Who broke Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon's heart when she faked her death. The girl who holds the title for the shortest run as Robin ever. The girl whose own mother would rather be high as a kite then holding my hand when I go to doctor's appointments. The girl who became a statistic. The street rat who came from nothing. I hear the whispers of the girl who sucked every Wayne dick to become the youngest, female VP at Wayne Enterprises. The girl who earned her cowl on her back. The girl who is going to screw her child up like she is. And I hate them. I hate everything that I have seen and done and heard. But then I look again. And I listen again. And I see the girl who picked herself up and stayed calm when her world crumbled when her big brother had to tell her the man she loved died. I see the girl who built the life that her lover wanted for their child. I hear him say I love you, and I'll always find my way back to you. And to trust him. You said we didn't morn you. Its cause I knew you weren't dead and I just had to focus on the goal and take power from it. Because you love me. Cracks and all. I'm strong and weak. I'm beautiful and fragile. I'm angry, but I can still love it. I think you've forgotten how to love your cracks because you've forgotten how to love me. But I'm patient, Tim. I'll wait. I will always wait. Because if it were the other way around, you'd wait for me."

[crossbowking]

The Road Ahead : Chapter 3

Chapter Index HERE

Summary : (Set in the beginning of season 1) Anna Brooks lost everything after the world ended — the last remaining part of herself being her older brother, who she lost contact with after communications dropped. While en route towards Atlanta to find him, Anna’s truck breaks down, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel new world. Now, Anna must face her fears head on as she struggles to deal with devastating loss, constant danger, and finding her way in a land that now belongs to the dead. But sometimes, a glimmer of hope can be found disguised as a short-tempered, hard-headed redneck who may just save her life in more ways than one.

Pairings : Daryl x Original Female Character

Warnings : Slow-Burn, Language/Violence/typical Walking Dead themes

Author’s Note : Thanks for all the love! I’m sorry if the pace is a bit slow, but I’m trying to turn this into a true series and all the good stuff can’t happen all at once! Hope you babes understand. 

ALSO. If you’ve asked to be added to my tag list and aren’t getting notified, I’ve BOLDED the blogs that I’m unable to tag for some reason. Either your account is hidden from the search bar or maybe I have the wrong username or something, but let me know if there’s anything I can do on MY end to allow you to be tagged.

Happy reading!!!

xx crossbowking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously...

“Where ya headed?” Daryl suddenly spoke, making her pause. She hadn’t expected a question in return.

“Uh, the city, actually. I hear Atlanta’s safe,” Anna finally murmured, staring down at her boots.

The archer shot Anna a funny look, before uttering two single words that shattered her world completely. “Atlanta’s gone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now...

“What?” Anna whispered in horror, her head snapping up at his response.

Daryl quirked a brow and straightened, wiping his hands on a red rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. “Ain’t nothin’ left. Jus’ them geeks. Whole damn city’s overrun,” he rumbled, watching her reaction carefully.

“How do you know?” she demanded, unable to stop the sharpness in her voice.

Daryl didn’t seem to be affected by her tone and continued on. “We got a guy. Makes runs downtown. Says everythin’s gone ta’ shit.”

“But…but they said Atlanta was a safe zone,” Anna shot back desperately, her thoughts immediately going to her brother, who had still been in the city last she spoke to him. “There’s a refugee center and everything — the broadcasts said to go there. They said that the military set up camp —”

“Military up an’ left,” Daryl interjected. “Or turned if they didn’t.”

Anna felt her last remaining bit of hope shatter, the pieces scattering amongst the ashes of her heart as images of her family clouded her mind. Her father skimming over the morning paper, peering over his reading glasses as he sipped a steaming mug of coffee…her mother perched in front of her vanity mirror, gently brushing her hair…her brother hunched over his car’s engine, patiently pointing out each part and its purpose to his little sister who was thrilled to be spending time with him.

Her entire family was gone, ripped away by this horrible new world. Her parent’s were dead and now her brother was…well, he might as well be dead too.

Anna dropped her head to her chest, hiding the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. Atlanta had been a long shot — but it’d been her only shot. And she wasn't naive. Part of her had always thought that maybe her brother had left the city before the outbreak got too out of hand — maybe he found a less populated town to hole up in. But now, hearing that the city had been totally destroyed…what if he never even made it out of Atlanta to begin with?

Ben could be dead. Ben could be missing. Ben could be hiding out in the middle of nowhere. But all Anna knew for sure was that he was gone. The chances of finding her brother now were nonexistent, the reality weighing on her heart like an anchor. She would never see him again.

Anna could feel Daryl’s gaze burning a hole into her and quickly pushed away from the truck, heading towards the cab instead. Wiping a tear that snaked down her cheek, she hopped into the bed of the truck, letting her legs dangle off the back.

Toying absently with her necklace, Anna brushed away another tear, staring blankly down the long deserted road behind her. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Things felt incredibly hopeless, incredibly bleak, and she suddenly found herself wondering what purpose she truly had left here.

Anna heard the hood slam shut and Daryl’s footsteps quietly approaching, coming to stop beside her. She peeked over at him, noticing how he was staring off in the general direction she had been, eyes far away. He stood awkwardly, like he had something to say but couldn’t exactly get the words together, which led him to just shift his weight back and forth.

For the second time, Anna wondered what this man was still doing here. Trying to make up for Merle’s actions? Trying to pay off some kind of debt he thought he owed? Whatever he was trying to accomplish, he didn’t need to suffer through her misery alongside her.

“Why are you still here?” Anna whispered thickly — not accusingly, more so just curious.

Daryl seemed thrown off by her question, looking even more uncomfortable as he shrugged a shoulder up, grunting softly — almost like he himself didn’t even have that answer. “What’s in Atlanta?” he suddenly asked.

Anna cast her eyes down, letting her necklace fall back into place as she took a steady breath. “My brother,” she murmured, hating the way her voice broke.

Daryl didn’t respond, instead choosing to just nod absently. Loss was a part of life — and it became a bigger part of life after the world ended. It was the nature of the game. People lived, people died, people suffered — it was just how things were.

Anna glanced over at Daryl, her brown eyes locking with his blue ones — his expression remained impassive, but something deep in his gaze shifted as a moment of silence passed between the two strangers.

The archer suddenly cleared his throat, pushing away from the truck. “Uh, try startin’ ‘er up.”

A small glimmer of hope bubbled in Anna’a chest as she hopped off the truck. She slid past Daryl, yanked open the drivers side door and jumped inside. Grabbing the keys still lying on the dashboard, she said a silent prayer and shoved them into ignition.

Then, she took a deep breath, turned the key, and the sweetest noise she’d ever heard in her entire life filled the air — an engine roaring to life.

Anna’s breath caught in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back against the headrest, reveling in the moment. She opened her eyes and looked over at Daryl, who was standing next to the open door, the corner of his mouth quirked up in what she assumed was the closest she was going to get to a smile.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Anna murmured, catching his eye. “How did you do it? I can’t…you just…thank you,” she babbled, hoping her words expressed how truly grateful she was.

Daryl merely shrugged, clearly not comfortable taking a compliment. “Gonna need another car soon. Engine’s pretty shot,” he mumbled, shutting the door softly, but hovering near the open window.

“Thank you,” Anna said again, feeling some pressure lift off her chest.

Daryl nodded once, scooping up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder. He took a couple steps backwards, clearly waiting for her to drive off.

But Anna paused. She wasn’t exactly sure what her next move was. She could still head for Atlanta, regardless of what Daryl told her. She knew where Ben’s apartment was — maybe she could find answers there. Maybe he was even still alive, waiting for her to arrive. It’d be a suicide mission, navigating a city full of the dead on her own…but then again, what did she truly have to live for?

“Fort Benning,” Daryl suddenly spoke.

Anna turned her head, looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Fort Benning. The army base. Hear it’s a safe zone, still up an’ runnin’, an’ all. There’s been talk a’ my group headin’ that way,” he offered, adjusting the strap of his crossbow restlessly.

Anna nodded thoughtfully. If Ben wasn’t in Atlanta, maybe he’d made the trek to Fort Benning. It was definitely a possibility with it being the next closest safe zone. “Thank you, Daryl,” she murmured, now feeling like she owed him something. “Is there anything…can I give you something, or — I-I don’t have much but — ” she began rambling.

“Nah,” he immediately interjected, shaking his head.

Anna sighed. It still felt unfair to just leave. “Are you sure —”

“We’re square,” he countered with a nod, voice unwavering.

And then with nothing more left to say, Anna shot him a small smile, put the truck into drive and started forward.

She’d only driven a couple feet when she heard Daryl call after her. “Hey!” he shouted and she slammed on the breaks, putting the truck back into park.

Anna stuck her head out the window in confusion as the archer jogged towards her. “What is it?” she asked, puzzled as he came to a stop beside her.

“Look, uh…uh,” he paused, eyebrows furrowed as he cocked his head to the side.

Anna then realized that the man didn’t even know her name. “Oh,” she murmured, a bit embarrassed. “Anna.”

Daryl nodded. “Look, Anna, if ya want —  my group, we’re, uh, we’re holed up by the quarry on the other side a’ the mountain. End a’ the road here, ya make a left. Head up the mountain for ‘bout half a mile,” he spilled out, almost in one breath. “If ya ain’t got no where ta’ go.”

Anna couldn’t hide the shock from her face. That was the last thing she’d expected to come out of his mouth — and she couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued by the thought of not toughing it out on her own anymore.

But after her little encounter with Merle…maybe sticking it out alone was her best bet. “Thank you. But, I’ll be okay,” Anna declined.

Daryl nodded, shrugging a shoulder up. “If ya change your mind, then. We got food…people…protection,” he added with emphasis. “Ain’t too smart bein’ out here on your own anymore.”

Then Merle’s face popped into her mind and his “see ya ‘round, darlin’,” echoed in her ear. “I’m probably safer out here than in a camp with your brother,” she couldn’t stop herself from spitting out, hearing the venom clearly in her voice.

“He won’t bother ya,” Daryl immediately shot back, resolutely.

“How do you —”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

And she believed him.

But, Anna didn’t know him — any of them, for that matter. And her stubbornness got the best of her. “Thanks for everything.”

Daryl seemed to get the hint and nodded once, taking a step back from the window.

Anna sent him a small wave, before driving off. She looked in the rearview mirror to find Daryl standing in the middle of the road, watching her drive off. She kept checking the reflection until he was nothing but a speck behind her.

As she continued down the road, she couldn’t help but start to second guess herself — had she made the right decision? Had she made the smart decision? Were those decisions even the same anymore?

She was torn.

Sure, there was safety in numbers. There was also resources back at Daryl’s camp — resources that she just did not have right now, water being the most vital. Atlanta was apparently in ruins and who was to say that Ben would even still be there? Fort Benning was another option, but what if that place had also been taken over by the dead? It was nearly a hundred miles away from where she was — would she be able to make that trek on her own?

And then there was Daryl. He was the first person she’d come across who gave her hope that not everyone left on earth was a prick. She felt okay with him around — something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

But Anna hadn’t come this far just to give up. She knew how to take care of herself. She knew she could make it at least another five miles to Atlanta. And she had a big brother out there somewhere, maybe looking for her the same way she was looking for him.

The truck rumbled beneath her as she slowed, coming to a stop at the end of the road. Anna looked left and right — left sent her up the mountain towards Daryl’s group and right sent her towards the city.

Anna grabbed her necklace, squeezing her parents rings in the palm of her hand as her stomach flip-flopped.

She’d made it this far on her own. If Ben was somewhere alive out there, she’d never forgive herself for not at least trying to find him. He was all she had left.

His final words to her on their last phone call rang through her mind —“It’s gonna be okay, Annie. Me, you, mom, and dad, we’re all gonna be okay. The freakin’ military just rolled into the city, so don’t you worry about me, okay? I’m safe. Just focus on getting you guys to Atlanta. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

Anna took a deep breath. “I’m comin’, big brother,” she murmured, determination coursing through her as she finally turned right.

But as she drove towards the city now populated by the dead, thoughts of her brothers promise replaying in her mind, another voice made itself known — “I’ll make sure of it.”

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing away any thoughts regarding the gruff redneck who’d saved her life.

She was on a mission — live or die, this was the right decision. Family was the most important thing and damn it, if she didn’t have her family, what did she really have left?

Forcing herself to take a calming breath, Anna began to map out a game plan as the Atlanta skyline came into view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : We’ll be spending some quality time with Anna for the next few chapters as we follow along her journey in search of Ben...but will she find him? CHAPTER 4 WILL BE POSTED SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 23RD. 

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[mannatea]

incoherent ranting below

so i’ve been in this constant ‘i hate men’ mood for like, weeks, probably because a coworker of mine works nights at the bar sometimes and men are unsurprisingly disgusting and hateful creatures who prey on women who dare to exist in any space, especially if that space is one that demands she serve him in any capacity, no matter how professional

and i realized something i hate about shows that are dark & gritty and claim to be (by the fans or creators) “realistic for the time” which of course everyone wants to claim = superior writing

first of all NO it’s not better just because it’s “realistic” and LOL at “life just blew chunks back then that’S JUST HOW IT WAS” like??? can we stop pretending that everyone was miserable always that’s your shitty modern air conditioning loving ass talking through your overlarge facehole. 

secondly history is written by the winners, which we know, so we mostly have rich white men who obviously still don’t have a fuCKING CLUE what goes on in their OWN GODDAMN HOMES let alone what goes on around them like are we really going to believe that what they say was real was not only real for them but like, commonplace???? lol

but even if a show managed to be 100% historically accurate, there’s no need to adhere to history because (and CHECK THIS OUT, it’s WILD) this is

a

fictional

fucking

story!!!!!!!!

anyway what i hate about gritty grimdark “”””realistic”””” pieces of media is this: 

i’m tired of them!!!!!!!!!!

and hey, maybe because they all subscribe to the same newsletter, which has some kind of nutty philosophy: to be dark and gritty we gotta deal with Controversial Awful Topics preferably in ways that feel like they cOULD be historically accurate just to acCENTUATE how terrible life can be

like man i love realism as much as the next guy, but when it’s piled on too thick it’s just a drag to stick with, you know???

i watch a mediocre tv show that wants very badly to be a wholesome family western drama. it’s called when calls the heart and it lacks diversity. it lacks good writers. it lacks a good budget. it has its good moments of course. there are some amazing characters, some lovely moving scenes... but it’s not The Family Western Drama, and so a number of fans put it down because they think it ought to be more like The Family Western Drama of the 90s: dr. quinn medicine woman. 

which was one helluva brave show for its time!! don’t get me wrong here. it dealt with scary topics for the 90s: homophobia, racism, domestic violence, and the most controversial topic they dealt with (according to lashback from viewers): hitting children is abuse.

but the characters in dr. quinn are downright HATEFUL when you look away from the main cast and their bffs. the townsfolk are all extremely racist, bigoted, sexist, violent, women-hating pigs who want to shoot literally everyone for any possible reason they can come up with. they don’t change. all they do is hate, have an episode arc of learning something or maybe some backstory that makes you feel something for them, and they go right back to being hateful again. 

and look, i do wish wcth had more courage. i do. i rEALLY do. the structure is sound. it could be so good if it tried and it had the budget. but it doesn’t, and it isn’t, and honestly? i’m okay with that.

sometimes it’s nice to have a piece of media where the men aren’t all irredeemable fuckwads!!! where i can pretend the town is made up of open minded loving people who usually mean well and aren’t hateful!

it’s soothing to watch a show where i don’t have to see men treating women with blatant disrespect, where i don’t have to look at them being viewed by the characters as property. where the saloon in the show DOESN’T HAVE whores at all, let alone whores that are OWNED BY THE OWNER and regularly treated like shit throughout the series. 

like look i get it, yall like dr. quinn cause it’s “”””realistic”””” but it’s hard to enjoy a show that’s just more of the same irl stuff i deal with AND it never gets better AND the characters all remain civil and friendly AND it’s just accepted that that’s how those characters are AND--

i mean, i get having to be civil to your neighbors because you’re the town doctor and this is now your home and you have kids to take care of!! but how can you love a town where nearly everyone in it wants your cheyanne friends dead and would shoot them themselves if given half a chance? like, i can’t love that town. and i want to love a town a tv show centers around.

gilmore girls featured stars hollow and it was a nice town. not everyone was wholesome and good but there were people to like. the town means something to the characters = it should mean something to me by proxy. who didn’t fall in love with avonlea in anne of green gables, right? hope valley is likable. colorado springs in dr. quinn is not. it’s hateful.

anyway i just wanted to vent. dr. quinn is a decent show. sometimes it’s really good. but most of the time i just sit there and prefer mediocrity. i want to like the town! i want to like the featured male characters! i want to like the world these characters come from, even if it’s not always kind to them. but in dr. quinn it’s like??? i can’t. i hate the town. it’s shit.

as a writer i want flaws. i like seeing characters change and evolve. but in dr. quinn it’s like they don’t ever change. they’re still nasty and evil and willing to turn on one another at the drop of a hat. the fans say it’s good, realistic writing. i say it’s trash writing on a good budget. again, “””dark””” material doesn’t make the writing good. if i’m gonna watch mediocrity i’d rather it be something that gives me characters and a town i enjoy seeing on the screen, even if it’s “not realistic” or “fake.”

and like, i’ve dissed when calls the heart for trying too hard to be “feminist” and accidentally going in the other direction, but at least they made an effort? at least they tRIEd to give us strong characters? sure they failed and disappointed me but i can tell there was an effort. and their failure generally didn’t ruin the characters for me, either.

it’s painful watching dr. mike forgive the evils of her fellow townspeople every single episode only for them to be fine letting her or her kids or her beau or the cheyanne or the immigrants die because of one (1) minor thing happening

(and hey i know shit like typhus was a big deal but maybe actually write the fear in there and make a real episode about it? it stops meaning something when your characters fly off the handle about lITERALLY everything. like at this point neal and i start a new episode with: who’s gonna be irredeemably evil today? hank, jake, or loren?)

dEEP BREATH

maybe i’m being a little unfair. it’s interesting to have a town of characters where some are just completely terrible people and that’s just how it is because they’re There and It’s Their Town Too and so on.

but that doesn’t mean i want to watch it. and i don’t think it necessarily means it’s a better written show, either. it’s just exhausting to me. i don’t need to see more anger. i’m tired of it. it’s everywhere.

okay okay at its core this was a rant about the bullshit fake ass “realistic media” = better media thing but also...

why would i want to subject myself to 30104012 hours of nonstop violence against women, when it’s been a part of my everyday life from the moment i stepped out of the womb?

no thanks. i hate men as a general rule but i like to indulge in the fantasy that there could be a town made up of mostly good ones!! so sue me if it means i like a shittier piece of media!! i don’t care!! I DO NOT CARE!!! i just want to think ‘hey this is a nice place these people live in and everyone has their faults but they’re not waving guns around beating up people.’

i literally don’t care how “unrealistic” that makes the show. do not care. i give...no fucks about that. let me indulge.

and also, you know what? other shows were brave in the 90s, too, but i don’t see people talking about touched by an angel even though it handled all the same topics that dr. quinn medicine woman did AND MORE

lol but i guess it’s embarrassing to admit you got something out of tbaa huh

again, don’t get me wrong. there are things i enjoy a LOT about dqmw. but boy does it piss me off to see wcth compared to it as if dqmw is this paragon of good writing that all other period dramas must aspire to, and if you don’t do literally all of these grimdark things that dqmw did, you’re not good enough...is just so exhausting. there’s nothing wrong with a show choosing to skirt the horrible things for a lighter fare. sometimes that’s just what the audience needs.

and like lmao none of this is real it’s ALL MADE UP!!!!! so who cares if abigail’s a female mayor in 1915 like

that’s the magic of fiction, babe!!!!

[texanredrose]

This and That (Day 4: Sharing)

Blake shivered, raising her gaze to scowl at the thick grey clouds overhead, her back pressed against the brick wall of the school as she sat at the far edges of the playground. All she wanted to do for recess was read her book but Vale’s winters happened to be much colder than those in Menagerie and for the sixth time that day she wished they could go back home. She understood Mom and Dad had to come to Vale for their work- as much as a seven year old could understand, anyway- but it still seemed unfair for her to have to be there as well. She could’ve stayed home, gone to school like she was supposed to, and gone down to the docks for food whenever she got hungry. She could definitely take care of herself.

Of course, she was only shivering at present because she’d disagreed with her Mom’s advice to take a coat to school, because the weather was rather nice that morning, if a little chilly. Certainly not as cold as it was now with the wind blowing.

She just wanted to read her book.

“What are you doing?” Amber eyes snapped away from the foreboding clouds overhead to the girl who’d addressed her. They were probably the same age- she’d seen the girl during their lunch period- but they didn’t share the same class. She almost seemed too... bright for her surroundings, and not in the way that some of the other kids were. They wore colorful shirts and jackets and shoes but this girl had nothing but white. White hair, white jacket, white skirt, white boots- it seemed the only color she had was in her blue eyes, which were narrowed in a scowl at present. “Shouldn’t you be playing?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Blake’s feline ears laid back a little and she noticed how the girl’s attention flicked to them briefly.

They both looked towards the playground, where the rest of their classmates were laughing and playing, running around and climbing whatever they could. “They’re too loud.”

“I think so, too,” she said, looking down to her book. “That’s why I’d rather read.”

“Then why aren’t you reading?”

“Because I just sat down.” She frowned, hating how the wind blew at that exact moment and made her shiver again. 

“You’re cold.”

“... maybe.” One day, she might learn to listen to her parents when they told her things. “It wasn’t cold this morning so I didn’t bring a jacket.”

“But it’s not cold. Not really.”

“It’s colder than Menagerie.”

“It’s not as cold as Atlas. That’s where I’m from.”

“You’re not from Vale?”

The girl shook her head, a frown touching her lips. “We moved here for business.” Huh. Seems they had a bit in common. As Blake mulled over that information, the girl took off her jacket and held it out. “Here. I’m not cold.”

A bit of pride shone through; even if she made some miscalculations regarding the weather, she could handle the consequences without help. “I didn’t ask for your jacket.”

“And I didn’t ask you to take it.” The girl frowned. “I’m telling you to so you can be warm and read. That’s what you want, right? So just take it.”

“You’re not very nice, you know.”

“And you’re ungrateful.” The girl snapped back, putting one hand on her hip and shaking her jacket. “I’m not telling you again.”

With an exasperated sigh, Blake reached out and grabbed the garment, leaning away from the wall so she could throw it around her shoulders. It was small, so she didn’t dare risk putting her arms through the sleeves and stretching it out, but it was thick enough that she immediately felt warmer just from having it around her shoulders.

Satisfied she’d finally given in, the girl came and sat beside her, gaze fixed on the playground. 

But Blake didn’t open her book just yet. “How long have you lived here?”

“Only a few days. Today’s my first day at school.”

“Mine was yesterday,” she said, ears falling slightly. “I miss home.”

“I don’t.” The girl shrugged. “There was nothing to miss.”

“Don’t you have friends back home?”

“Not really,” she replied, still staring at the playground. “There were kids I talked to, but... they weren’t my friends.”

Blake frowned. Honestly, that was really the only part of home she missed. Of course she missed her old house and the swing set in the back but all that didn’t matter without her friends to share it all with, and the idea of making new friends made her feel guilty for leaving her old ones behind. But what sort of person didn’t even have friends to miss when they moved?

“My name’s Blake,” she said, holding out her hand. “Blake Belladonna.”

“Weiss,” the girl replied, shaking her hand and pointedly ignoring the way she was being watched expectantly. Finally, she sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on top while muttering the rest. “Weiss Schnee.”

Tilting her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes. The name sounded familiar- maybe her parents had mentioned it before- but she couldn’t really place it. “Does that mean something in Atlas?”

“It means something everywhere.” Weiss sighed and curled in tighter on herself. “It’s why I don’t have any friends. No one wants to be friends with Weiss but everyone wants to be friends with a Schnee.” She paused. “Well... not everyone.”

Blake sat back against the brick wall for a moment, then cracked open her book. But instead of going to the butterfly printed marker her Mom had gotten her, she opened it to the first page. “Do you like stories?”

For a moment, the girl didn’t respond, but when she eventually looked over, her brow pinched in confusion. “There’s no pictures. What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who’s very smart and has lots of friends but she has a really bad family.” A frown touched her lips. “My Mom and Dad would never act like this. It’s hard to imagine parents being this mean to their own kid. But I like the main character.” 

Weiss scooted closer to her, trying to get a better look at the words on the page. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“I think so.” But then, Blake had a better idea. “How about I read aloud? Mom says I should practice. I... get nervous speaking in front of the class sometimes.”

“We can take turns.” The girl nodded. “You can go first?”

“Okay.” Blake smiled, ears perking up as they moved a little closer together. And then she began to read aloud, only stumbling over the words every now and again, with Weiss pressed against her side.

“-to be determined by the White Fang Council, henceforth abbreviated WFC, in conjunction with the governing body of Vale, for the betterment of human/Faunus relations, to include but not limited to- how can you read through these things day after day?” Blake lowered her hand, taking the thick stack of papers away so she could blink her eyes clear. “This is my third one and it’s giving me a headache. It’s just a mess of run-on sentences with flowery language thrown in rather than plain words.”

“There’s a world of difference between business contracts and legal proposals, my love,” Weiss replied, setting aside a notepad she’d been using to jot down irregularities in the proposal and turning her head to press a kiss against the Faunus’ cheek. “But I don’t think you’re wrong. Thankfully, Winter is more fond of the minutiae than I am. You’re not as lucky.”

“In some respects.” Taking her father’s place as the leader of the White Fang, an organization dedicated to improving the lives of Faunus all over Remnant, did come with its drawbacks. For one, it didn’t feel right to ask her father for help unless the issue required more critical analysis than just what she could provide herself, because not only did she want anyone accusing her of not doing her fair share in leading the group but she also didn’t want to worry him over every little thing that cropped up- of which there seemed to be a never ending supply. For another, she’d chosen to surround herself with those who hand concrete, firsthand knowledge of the living conditions in the various kingdoms, which meant they didn’t always possess the ability to look at potential proposals objectively. Not necessarily a bad thing, as it kept them keenly aware of any shady wording, but it also brought with it the necessary consequence of never being satisfied, because undoing decades of discrimination simply didn’t happen. It could be overcome but not undone and so many had failed to see that distinction. “But at least I have you.”

“That you do.” Weiss smiled, then reached over and grabbed the proposal, setting it aside with her notepad and grabbing a book from the end table. “How about a break? If you’re starting to go cross eyed, then perhaps a distraction will help you relax. We can come back to this in a bit.”

“You’re just eager to get to the next chapter.” Blake chuckled, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. “ It’s not a bad idea. I’ll go first-”

“Ah, no.” A light tap against her nose discouraged her from taking the book from the woman’s hands. “You’re supposed to be relaxing, remember? I’ll read.”

Even after twenty years, Weiss’ requests still sounded like demands and Blake had fallen in love with it, a fond smile touching her lips as she settled back, ears tilted forward to soak up every word as her wife began to read aloud.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Seventeen

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 17/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between.

Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​​​ for being an absolute godsend in regards to this story. I would truly be dead in the water without you. And thanks to @nonsensicalobsessions​ for reading over this for me and easing my worry that it was actually just a bunch of crap.

Previous

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tom watched as a myriad of emotion swam across Cath’s features, each passing much too quickly for him to truly catch. He could sense the unease rolling from her in waves and, god, he wanted to kick himself for dropping all of this on her. For putting her in such an emotionally chaotic situation. But once he’d started talking there was no way for him to stop all of it pouring out.

It was freeing in a way he hadn’t truly anticipated, letting all of it out. Telling someone else; sharing the dark and broken parts of him with another person. While those closest to him knew most of what had happened, none knew the full scope of the mess save himself.

And now Cath.

“Tom.”

He fought to ignore the surge of warmth he felt at the sound of his name on her lips. It was stupid, so very stupid for such a simple, small thing to matter as much as it did to him. Her blue eyes were cautious as she watched him watching her. He held his breath, waiting for the hammer to fall. It was inevitable. He knew it. Everything he had laid at her feet, the burden he’d hoisted upon her was too much. The only question in his mind was how she would break it to him. She was a kind, honest person to a fault; that much he knew without question.

“I,” she started again, her hands wringing together in her lap. She’d dropped her eyes from his and he knew just where this was going.

“Cath, don’t. It’s alright…”

Her head snapped up, eyes widening as she pushed herself to the edge of her seat, hands raised in an almost pleading gesture. “Tom no, please…That isn’t what I’m trying to say. Please, just let me…I need time, Tom.”  They sat in silence for several moments before she slowly pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her purse from its resting place beside her chair.

Tom felt his heart sink. Here it comes. “It’s alright, Cath.” He forced a quiet smile. “I understand. It’s a lot…Too much, even. Just forget it, please. Just pretend it didn’t happen. I shouldn’t have dumped any of this on you. It was completely unfair of me. I’m sorry.”

Cath shook her head almost violently. “No, Tom. No, that isn’t what I’m saying…I just…I need time to process it. Please, can you give me that? I’m not running, I just need to make sense of all of this before I can…Please, just give me time?”

Wordlessly, he nodded and watched as she gathered her things, offering him a quiet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and left. How long he sat in the brightly lit lounge, Tom couldn’t say. He was vaguely aware of Bobby coming in at one point and settling atop his feet. He reached down without looking and gently stroked the spaniel’s head, “Bobby, my lad.” The spaniel looked up at Tom with his wide, dark eyes, yawning as Tom scratched behind his ears. “I think I’ve just blown it.”

                                                          —

The cool breeze of the late evening whipped around Cath as she wandered aimlessly down the mostly empty pavements. She hated the way she had all but ran from Tom’s when she’d sworn she would do no such thing. How could she have possibly been so insensitive? Guilt wracked her with every step. But, god, what was she supposed to do with all of that? How was she honestly supposed to respond? She couldn’t shake the way he’d looked at her as she left; the pained acceptance, the quiet resignation. She felt like a monster. A cowardly, selfish, insensitive monster.

She hadn’t a clue what time it was and frankly couldn’t bring herself to care. So she kept walking, one foot before the other with no set course in mind. As she walked, she played Tom’s words over and over again in her mind. All of the uncertainty and self doubt, the anger and self-loathing. So many things that worked to make him the man he was now. Things she would never have guessed in a million years.

Of course she’d known there was more to him than the face he presented to the world. She’d seen bits and pieces of that man over the last several months; she wasn’t naive. But seeing the man behind the curtain, in all his broken and tattered glory, was something all together different. I wonder if this was how Dorthy felt in Oz after the curtain lifted.

Things were now both completely different and exactly the same and Cath didn’t quite know what to make of it. Tom was still Tom. He was still the consummate professional, the warm and laughing man who joked with everyone and took his job seriously. He was still the man who made her laugh and who frustrated her beyond all measure. None of that had changed. And yet…

Her feet carried her onwards quite without her conscious permission. Cath blinked in confusion when she found herself standing before an all too familiar building. She glanced quickly at the watch on her wrist. It was quickly approaching one in the morning. Probably much too late to call, but she’d come here for a reason. And as much of a pain as Lorn could be, she was a voice of reason and Cath needed that desperately. With a silent plea for forgiveness, Cath walked up the stone steps to the door and pressed the call bell.

The bell rang once. And then twice before Lorna’s loud voice echoed through the tinny speaker. “Yes?”

“Hey Lorn, its Cath. I…Um, I know it’s frightfully late but can I come up?”

The only answer was the buzz of the door unlocking. Cath slipped silently inside and jogged up a narrow flight of steps. Lorna’s flat was on the first floor of the converted warehouse. She’d lived there for ages and despite the buildings quirks (of which she admitted there were many), Lorna seemed to love it. When Laurie proposed it had been a given he would be moving into hers; Lorna wasn’t giving up that flat in a hurry. And Cath had to admit it was a lovely place. High ceilings, exposed beams, plenty of character.

Lorna was waiting for her, leaning against the door jam, arms crossed at her chest. “What’s happened?”

Cath gave her a faint smile. “Not out here.”

While Lorna’s neighbors were discreet, it didn’t feel right blurting out anything (no matter how vague or innocent) where anyone could overhear. Not when he’d told her these things in trust. She owed him at the very least that much.  

Nodding, Lorna stepped aside and Cath slipped quietly by her. A lamp was lit in the corner of the lounge and a book rested on the arm of the well-worn leather arm chair. She’d caught Lorna reading and thanked whatever deity cared to be listening that she hadn’t woken her friend.

Dropping her bag on the side table, Cath settled herself on the squashy couch (a relatively new acquisition and admittedly a nice step up from the previous model) and turned to face an equally quiet Lorna. “Is Laurie in?”

Lorna shook her head. “Nah, he’s on nights this week. Won’t be back til quarter of seven.”

“That’s rough.”

She shrugged. “Part of the job. We both knew medical school and then junior doctoring would be a nightmare. We just need to get through the worst of it.”

Cath reached out and squeezed Lorna’s hand.

Lorna dropped herself back into her chair, sitting in it sideways and facing Cath. “So spill. I know you didn’t show up at mine for a leisurely chat at one in the morning0. Something’s happened?” She looked pointedly at Cath and raised an eyebrow. “It’s Tom, isn’t it? Something’s happened with Tom? What?”

Quite without her permission, Cath found herself bursting into tears which startled Lorna. Her friend was up and out of her chair within moments, kneeling before the couch with concern painted across her features. It took several choking sobs before Cath calmed herself enough to speak. “God Lorn, I think I really, really fucked up.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” Lorna whispered soothingly as she rubbed her hand up and down Cath’s back. “I know you, Cath. Whatever it is, it can only be but so bad.”

Cath let out a sardonic chuckle and shook her head. “I ran. He opened up and I just…I fucking fled.” The look of resignation that spread across his strained fears tore at her. He’d opened up and she’d done the one thing she promised herself she wouldn’t do. She bloody ran. “God, Lorn. The look on his face…”

“Whoa,” Lorna cut in, her own brow creasing with worry. “Slow down and start from the beginning. What exactly happened?”

“I blew up at him in the dressing room after everyone had left. I just…God, I don’t know. This whole bloody thing has been messing with my head for weeks and I just…I’d had enough. So I just snapped at him. Demanded he tell me what the fuck he wanted with me, with whatever it is we’ve been dancing about for months now.”

“A reasonable request,” Lorna agreed, resting her hand on Cath’s shoulder. “And he agreed?”

Cath nodded, “He did. After he finished with stage door and I finished getting things in the room back in order, we went to his,” she paused and laughed softly. “He made me tea. God, it was all so strangely normal. Like were weren’t sitting down to talk about the fucked up nature our relationship was twisting into. And I found myself sitting there both wanting to know why and desperately hoping he’d run again. It’s such a mess.”

“But he didn’t run.”

“No, he didn’t. None of what he said made any sense at first…He just started talking about that summer three years ago…”

“Ah yes, that was quite the…spectacle,” Lorna added with a knowing smile and a light squeeze of her hand, “And would certainly explain some of his…hesitancy. But not all of it.”

Cath shook her head in agreement. “No, not all of it….He took a while to get to the heart of the matter…God, half the time I don’t think he realized I was even in the room…It all just seemed to pour out. And I didn’t know what to say, what to do…Fucking hell I still don’t. So I ran…I asked him for more time and then I just…I ran.”

Lorna took a deep breath, moving her hand from Cath’s shoulder onto her back and rubbing slow, soothing circles. “So you asked him for time before you left, you didn’t just get up and run out the door, right?”

Cath nodded.

“Then that means you didn’t run. You recognized that whatever he’d said was way more than you could process right then and there and you asked for time to do so. And THEN you left.” She paused, pulling her hand from Cath’s back and using it to tip Cath’s up to face her own. “That isn’t running, Cath. That’s being smart and making sure you don’t say or do something without truly thinking it through.”

“But still…He told me all of this…And I just….” She ran a hand through her dark hair as she floundered for words that did not seem to want to come.

“You just nothing,” Lorna cut in, reaching out and squeezing Cath’s hand once more. “You need time to take it all in. There is nothing wrong with that.” Lorna smiled softly at her. “But what you really need to do now is think about what he’s told you and figure out if it’s a deal breaker for you or not…Providing you both want to see whatever this is brewing between you through or not.”

Cath sat silent for several moments, her eyes dark with confusion.

“Is what he’s told you a deal breaker in anyway?” Lorna asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Cath shrugged, tears welling in her eyes. “I just…I don’t know.”

Several more moments of silence passed between them. “Okay,” Lorna started, clapping her hands together. “Is any of what he’s told you involve something illegal or potentially dangerous for him or you?”

Cath silently shook her head and Lorna nodded decisively.

“Does it involve any habits you don’t agree with? Is he secretly married? Have any hidden illegitimate children? Into anything kinky that is an absolute no go with you?”

Cath fought an involuntary smile. “No.”

“Is he seeing someone else? Sleeping around?”

Again Cath shook her head.

“Okay. Is there anything that he told you that in any way changes who he is as person to you?”

Cath hesitated for a moment, letting Lorna’s question simmer in her mind before finally shaking her head. “No…No, he’s still the same Tom…Just with a bit more substance.”

Lorna smiled at her. “Well, then, that is your answer.”

“But can it really be that easy? There is still so much…God, I don’t even know if he’s going to want to hear a damned thing I have to say the way I darted out of there…” The words poured out of her mouth in a rush.

“If he’s half the man I think he is, despite his less than intelligent moves as of late, then he will. He’s probably just as scared as you are, if not more so. He opened up to you because he trusts you. He clearly values whatever you’ve got between you if he was willing to tell you what he did…”

“But you don’t know exactly what…” Cath protested.

“And I don’t need to. All I need to know is that it’s not going to harm you and that you are okay with it. The rest I can take on faith…And the firm threat that if he breaks your heart I’ll tear him into so many tiny pieces they’ll never find all of him.”

Cath nodded, unable to fight the smirk that spread across her face at Lorna’s threat. She shook her head, uncertainly taking hold once more. “But there is still so much…”

Lorna sighed. “There’s always something, Cath. You and I both know that. And with him and what he does for a living, it was always going to be more than most. But it’s not something you can’t overcome if you truly want to. What you need to do is make sure you are willing to accept that is part of the package deal. That you are willing to make it work.” She smiled warmly at Cath. “Why don’t you stay here, get some sleep and muse it over. See if things are any clearer.”

Not taking no for an answer, Lorna pushed herself up to her feet and headed down the hallway. She returned several moments later, arms laden with sheets, pillows, and an older duvet. “The couch is new so it should be a touch more comfortable than last time.”

Cath snorted, “I’ll take your word for it. Hand them over.” She motioned towards the various linens. Lorna smirked and tossed them. Cath’s laugh was muffled by the duvet that now covered her face. “Nice.”

“You’re more than welcome. And on this fun note, I’m off to bed. You should be too.” Cath untangled herself from the duvet, shoving it and the other linens aside and onto the couch beside her, a contemplative look painted across her features. “Seriously, Cath. Sleep. Let it be for now. There is nothing you can do about it right now. Sleep on it and in the morning if things are more settled, reach out and see.”

With that, Lorna turned and padded down the dimly lit hall towards her bedroom. Shaking her head, Cath pushed herself up from the couch and let herself truly look it over. It was new she noted with a wry smile of amusement. The couch was a decent size, wide enough to fit three rather large men. Covered in blue suede it was far fancier than the black cloth one Lorna had for years. It took the space of moments to settle the sheets onto the couch and get the duvet and pillow set to her liking. She sighed looking at her newly made bed, wondering if shed actually be able to sleep.

Shaking her head, Cath padded her way down the hall and into the bathroom. She found a spare tooth brush, making a mental note to pop round to the nearest corner shop and replace it later that morning. She cleaned her teeth and washed her face before padding back into the living room and settling onto the couch. She closed her eyes, letting her head sink into the pillow. God, this was a mess.

                                                         —

Cath blinked as she stepped out into the weak morning sunlight. She’d begged off breakfast with Lorna, not that she could have possibly eaten a thing with the way her stomach had twisted itself into knots. Even the small amount of coffee she’d managed to keep down wasn’t agreeing with her. Lorna had all but begged her to go home, shower, and for the love of all things holy eat something before she even contemplated picking up her mobile and calling Tom. Cath had mumbled noncommittally which had amused Lorna not at all.

Exasperated, Lorna had refused to let her leave until she’d sworn not once or twice but near five times that she wouldn’t call/text/tweet/visit/contact Tom at all until she’d taken care of herself. “You’re no good to anyone until you’ve gotten your own head on straight, Cath.”

As she made her way down the pavement towards the underground station, weaving in between the gaggle of morning commuters. Her mobile felt like a leaden stone in her bag and it took all her strength to leave it be as she made her way into the station, down the escalator, onto the platform and finally into the crowded carriage. Any notion of pulling said device out during the journey home was firmly squashed by the sheer amount of people climbing in and out of the carriage. Just as well, she figured.

When the train rolled to a stop at her station, Cath worked her way towards the carriage door and onto the platform. Brushing her hair out face she stumbled through the station and the final two blocks towards her flat. She climbed the stairs with a quiet determination and once at her door, fished her keys from the depths of her bag. She resisted the urge to pull her mobile from her bag and check for any potential missed calls or texts until she’d firmly shut and locked her door.

Nothing.

She fought back the wave of disappointment that swelled within her. She hadn’t really expected him to contact her, after all she was the one who had asked him for time. But still, she’d hoped, however unconsciously, that he would. Why, then, was she so disappointed with him when all he’d done was respect her wishes? Frustrated and ashamed with herself, Cath made her way into the kitchen, plugging her mobile in to charge and left the room.

Right, Cath told herself as she shifted her weight absently from one foot to the other. She could feel the grime of a day and change still on her skin. Shower.

Stripping as she went, Cath stumbled first into her bedroom to dump her dirty clothes into the hamper and then into the small bathroom. She hoped, however feebly, that after a shower she’d feel more settled, more certain. It was thin hope but she clung to it all the same. Cursing as she fumbled with the shower settings until she’d gotten the water as hot as she could stand, Cath climbed into the shower and slowly felt the tension leave her shoulders and her neck.

God, she was a wreck physically. All tension and stress.

Cath stood as long as she could just letting the water pelt across her back and shoulders before she set to work washing her hair and scrubbing her body. It was difficult, tearing herself away from the warmth and comfort of the shower, but her fingers had long since started to resemble prunes and she knew the hot water would run out soon. Sighing, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and padded back towards her bedroom.

Drying herself with quick efficiency, she dressed in a pair of dark grey joggers and a t-shirt that had seen many better days (it was thin to the point of nearing threadbare and stretched from years of wear and use). While things weren’t all that much clearer, she at least felt marginally calmer. She padded back down the hall, towel drying her hair, and wandered back into the kitchen. She forced herself to go through the motions of at least trying to eat and settled on making herself toast. For a brief moment she contemplated coffee but with the way her stomach was still turning, dismissed the idea out of hand.

As she placed the sliced bread into the toaster her conversations with both Tom and Lorna ricocheted back and forth in her mind. Tom’s quiet resignation and Lorna’s surprisingly sage advice. Across the counter her mobile lay, its black screen taunting her. She fought the urge to check for messages that wouldn’t come. No, she’d asked for time and Tom, despite his faults, was a man of his word. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck,” she breathed into the quiet air of the kitchen.

It was clear she needed to talk to Tom but figuring out where to start. And it was just as clear that Lorna had been right (though she would never, ever tell her so. If she let that slip Lorna would be nothing short of insufferable), Tom was still the same person to her. What he’d told her hadn’t changed anything. Yes, she was scared; God who wouldn’t be? There was still so many unknowns and uncertainties. While his career had certainly slowed in the last few years, knowing him as she did now, Cath knew it wouldn’t be long until that changed. And just as certainly she knew how much of an impact his career (and all the attention, press and fan wise) could have on any relationship he had. There would always be talk and while she’d been around the idea of fame for several years now, she had never been a part of it. If she took a place by his side (if he even still wanted her to) she would be in the thick of it and honestly it scared her. And she knew it most likely scared him too.

She jumped as the toast popped up from the toaster and laughed softly at her own ridiculous reaction. Grabbing a plate, she pulled the toast gingerly from the toaster and spread a thin layer of butter over each slice. Right, she thought determinedly, get your head on straight and just rip the bloody plaster off.

Hesitantly she reached for her mobile and unlocked it. She opened her contacts and tapped on his name. The photo smiling back at her from the screen had her hands shaking slightly. He’d insisted that he take a picture for her to use as his contact image and hadn’t taken no for an answer. When she’d given in, with poor grace she could now admit, he’d made the most ridiculous face and quickly snapped a picture. She hadn’t thought too much of it at the time but now…He must have trusted her a great deal to do such a thing. To not only give her his number (god only knows what his team had made of that) but to insist on taking a picture to go along with it. They’d barely known each other at all at that point and yet he’d been completely at ease with it. Funny that.

Shaking her head, she clicked on the messaging symbol and found herself staring at the blinking cursor. Right. Short and simple would be best. Cath took a slow, deep breath and typed. ‘Hey, are you free? If so can we talk?’

Not letting herself overthink she hit the send button and dropped the phone back onto the counter. She resisted the urge to stare at it and instead turned her attention to her toast. Cath ate methodically, not truly aware of what she was eating but knowing she needed to all the same. Half an hour passed with no response and she felt her stomach clench with anxiety.

Just stop it, she scolded herself. He could still be sleeping….Or he doesn’t want to talk to you.

Across the counter her mobile buzzed, signaling the arrival of a message. Her heart pounding wildly in her ears, Cath reached for the device. She unlocked the screen and read the text awaiting her.

‘I’m free. Buzz when you get to the gate.’

Swallowing against the thick lump in her throat, Cath typed a quick ‘okay’, hit send, locked the screen, and padded back towards the bathroom. She grabbed a hair elastic and pulled her long hair back into a low bun. It was still quite damp but she didn’t think she could stand taking the time to dry it now. She slipped her feet into the pair of trainers by her bedroom door and headed back down the hall to grab her bag and keys. With a determined shake of her head she pulled open the door and took the first step into an unknown future.

                                                          —

Tom paced listlessly around the front room, Bobby following at his heel. He’d been up half the night, trying desperately not to think and he could feel the exhaustion of an almost sleepless night weighing heavily on his shoulders. He’d told her everything and now all he could do was wait and see just how it would all play out. As much as he wanted it to work, for Cath to boldly declare that none of it mattered and she wanted nothing more than to take her place by his side, he knew life didn’t work that way. That kind of an ending was fiction, the thing he’d seen splashed across countless romantic comedies. This however was real life and chances were Cath would decide that he and everything around him was simply too much. He couldn’t…wouldn’t fault her for that.

Briefly, he thought on just how Luke would react knowing he’d told someone everything. He could see Luke’s face apocalyptic with disbelief at doing such a dangerous thing. “Are you sure, absolutely sure, you can trust her with this? God, Thomas, why don’t you just go and call the press?” Maybe it was best Tom waited to call his publicist…Like maybe the next time he was out of the country. Luke meant well and honestly always had Tom’s best interest at heart, but this would be a stupid, chancy gamble in his book. And one that could leave him with an ulcer and mounds of damage control if Cath turned out to be someone he shouldn’t have trusted. But even if this turned her away from him completely, Tom knew she wouldn’t betray him in that way. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

He’d been so caught up in this thoughts that he nearly missed the chime of his mobile which lay mostly ignored on the side table. It chimed once more before Tom realized just what the noise meant and scrambled to retrieve it. Stop being an idiot, it’s probably mum or Ben.

But it wasn’t.

Cath’s name blazed back from the cracked screen (he really needed to take the damned thing in to be repaired). Along with two short sentences. ‘Are you free? If so can we talk?’

His stomach dropped like lead. Her words had bend short, curt almost. She’d made up her mind then and not in his favor. It shouldn’t feel like such a heavy blow, he reasoned, after all he knew it was coming. But still…

Tom found himself pacing once more. He knew he should answer her. Say something. But what does one say to the person they know is going to break their heart? The minutes ticked by and he could hear Bobby’s whines grow steadily more uncomfortable. Tom paused and dropped himself onto the couch, absently patting the seat beside him. Invitation taken, Bobby hoped up beside his master and rested his head on Tom’s lap. “I’m sorry, Bobster, I’m shit company right now.”

Bobby looked up at Tom with wide eyes.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He quietly scratched the spaniel behind the ears, finding comfort in the silky smoothness of his fur. “I should just get it over with shouldn’t I?” Bobby yipped once and Tom laughed softly. “Okay then.”

Tom reached for his mobile and opened the message Cath sent. With shaking fingers he typed his reply. ‘I’m free. Buzz when you get to the gate.’

He hit send and dropped the device back onto the couch.

A few moments later the mobile buzzed again.

‘Okay.’

Tom let out a slow, deep breath. Now all he could do was wait.

Next

[nuclear-reactions]

Fo4 companions react to discovering that Sole has been a synth the whole time and didn't know it??? (p.s. I really love your writing and I think you should like write a book or something because I'd definitely read it and pay good money for it.)

(It’s funny youshould mention that anon, because I actually am in the process ofwriting the second draft of a novel. It’s partially the reason Idon’t post much these days; along with being a sad flake of a person,most of my free time is spent on rewriting the same paragraph fifteentimes. I’ve mentioned the book before here, but if you enjoy mywriting you can follow my newest side blog @toogaytowrite where I’ll beposting all the drabbles I write that I can’t find a home for as wellas updates on the book and excerpts. If you just want fanfictionstuff you can check out my AO3 too/shameless plug

Codsworth is aplot hole in this kind of theory so he, Strong, and Dogmeat areexcluded )  

There’s the truth,in the black and white ink of the Institute’s documents. Their truename is a number and their memories are lines of coded heartbreak.None of it was even real. Somehow it makes sense- the first real,clear memory they have is of the day the bombs fell. If there was alife before that, their creators didn’t deem it necessary to theexperiment. Sole is a synth. Manufactured. Inhuman. An researchproject to see how a synth would act under the outlandish parametersthey’d set. Shaun, their spouse, their memories of their parents,their entire life, all fabrications. Holding the proof with shakinghands, they turn to their companion.

Hancock- He prideshimself on being good with words, on always knowing what to say,whether or not it was exactly the ‘right’ thing to say. Very rarely,pre-ghoul or after, has John Hancock ever found himself at a loss forwords. Yet here is. He had to hand it to the Institute- they reallyoutdid themselves with Sole. They completely convinced him Sole was areal person. The moment that thought crosses his mind, he feels hisstomach bottom out. What the hell was he thinking? Of course Sole isa real person. He built an entire town to shelter people that otherssaw as subhuman, and he had to scold himself for entertaining theidea, even for a moment, that they were anything less than anexemplary human being. More human than most of the people who wouldlaud their humanity as a virtue. “Hey.” He tips their head up alittle. “Look at the bright side- I ain’t gonna outlive you now,and you get to keep all of your skin. We can raise hell forcenturies.” A hollow huff of laughter escapes them. He fixes themwith a steady gaze. “You’re still you, Sole. That might be hard tobelieve right now, but its true. You’re the same person that waltzedinto Goodneighbor and turned my world upside down. And I’ve still gotyour back, whatever you’re made of.” He chuckles, “Tinman.” andknocks his knuckles against their chest.

Nick- He put ahands on their shoulder. “Easy there, kid. This is a lot to takein.” He knows too well the way it feels to have the world pulledout from under you in exactly this fashion. It’d been a long timesince he woke up in a dumpster with a head full of stolen memories,he knows better than perhaps anyone in the Commonwealth, or at leastanyone in the room, what Sole is going through. Yet, he still findsit unimaginable. His memories are real. They’re not his own, but aman named Nick Valentine had existed once. To realize every face inyour head, every ghost haunting your dreams, was just a part of yourprogramming, it was unfathomable But just as he understands thefeeling of realizing you aren’t really you, that your identity is alie, he also knows what it means to break free of the preconceivedtemplate the Institute laid out for you. “They didn’t make you,understand? Everything you are, everything you’ve done, those gotnothing to do with anything they did to you. Whatever they made youfor, you made yourself, without their help.” He pulls them into anembrace with one hand and pushes the paper away with the other. Theyhelped him accept this same simple truth, the least he could do wasmake them see it too.

Curie- She is onlyjust beginning to grapple and understand her own newly foundemotions, and all the knowledge she has on the subject are frompurely clinical standpoints. The wisdom of old dead men on how totreat someone who is suffering from something impossible to healthrough conventional means. She knows this discover must come as ashock to Sole. She knows there are things she should do to comfortthem. But she’s unsure of where to begin. “Do you need to sitdown?” No response. They merely stare blankly at the paper in theirhands. “It is… fascinating a synth could develop such complexemotions as you have, non? If this is true, that is.” She takes afew cautious steps to their side. She tries smiling at them. “Youare all the more incredible. To have gained the autonomy… thehumanity you have gained. Ah, you are a miracle.” It maybe isn’t ascomforting as she might have hoped, and it doesn’t seem to lift theirspirits much, but they thank her anyway. It’s the truth really. Thisdiscovery just proved how extraordinary they truly were, even morethan when she thought they were human. They were a machine thattranscended beyond what they were designed for. She hoped to be likethem someday.

Danse (pre BlindBetrayal)- His mind whirls into a tail spin, his breath quickens. Asynth? He had been lied to this entire time by some synth plant inthe Brotherhood? He almost feels light headed. They had been privy tosome of the Brotherhood’s most guarded secrets- they had infiltratedthe Prydwen with such ease! They stood ten feet away from ElderMaxson. They could have killed him, could have killed any number ofhis brothers and sisters, and no one would have been quick enough tostop them. He put them all at risk by trusting a complete stranger.How could he have been so blind? He levels his weapon against theirhead. “Did you know about this?” he demands. He shouldn’t begiving them a chance to justify this, to lie to him even further. Heknows he has orders to kill synths on sight, but his need for answersin this moment eclipses his training. The shell-shocked look on theirface almost makes him flinch. “I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t.” Hegrips tighter to his weapon to calm the tremor in his hand. Thethings he had trusted them with… He had told them about Cutler.Suddenly the gun feels to heavy to keep aloft. He lets it fall,turning sharply away from them. He couldn’t, not again. It had takeneverything he had to put Cutler down when he found him, it had tornhim open. Even if they were a synth, he couldn’t be responsible forthe death of another person he considered a friend. “I never wantto see you again, do you understand? When I report this, you will bean enemy of the Brotherhood of Steel, and if you show your faceagain, I will have you shot.” He leaves them alone in that crampedoffice and doesn’t look back. Next time, he won’t be so weak.

Danse (post BlindBetrayal)- He wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone. His identity, hismemories, his very essence ripped away, through no fault of his own.It had been almost too much to stand. If Sole hadn’t have been therefor him, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to take it. He wouldn’tbe standing here with them now. Maxson would have had him destroyedif not for Sole, and if not Maxson, then… he remembers the way hehad admired his gun after his secret had been exposed. There was nodoubt in his mind that he would be dead either way. “I know itfeels like the world is coming down right now. Nothing I can say ordo will make that feeling go away. It takes time.” He took a deepbreath. “But it gets better. Even when if feels like it won’t.”He gingerly rests a hand on their back. “And I’ll be here.” Theyhad been his anchor to humanity. He’s almost grateful he has thechance to pay them back for that.

MacCready- Hedoesn’t know what to feel. Like he’s been lied to, by someone he’dnever met, didn’t even know the name of. More than anything, he hatesthe people who made Sole, who gave them such a good heart, and madethem suffer. His loss of Lucy and Duncan’s sickness had just beenlife being unfair and cruel, but someone made the conscious decisionto do this to Sole. Some shithead sat at a computer and mapped outeach heartbreak in their life. To give them a spouse and a child,make them feel that overwhelming love, and then to take it away. Forwhat? To test them? How cruel could a person really be? Machine ornot, Sole is his friend, they’ve proven that time and time again, andhe has nothing but hate for the sick bastards that toyed with themlike this. He takes their hand gently in his, coaxing the paper fromtheir shaking grip. “This doesn’t mean anything, hear me? Itchanges nothing.” He tears the paper in half, in thirds, into bitstoo small to put back together, and scatters them across the floor.He cradles their neck and the back of their head to force them tolook him in the eye. “This changes nothing.”

Deacon- He’d seenit before- a lot, actually. He was there when several synths came tothe realization they were constructed. The confusion and hurt was tobe expected. He hates to think there had been a time when he wouldn’thave accepted Sole, the person he had come to trust the most, whenthis news came to light. But more than anything, he feels suddenlymore protective of them. The Commonwealth was often cruel to thingsit didn’t understand, none more so than ghouls and synths. How manypeople, who once hailed Sole as a hero, would turn their backs onthem if this came to light? How many would do worse than that? Peopleturned on their own families if they thought they were synths,whether or not they were dangerous. He pushed his sunglasses off tolook Sole in the eye. “Nobody has to know about this,” he says,voice low, “We can just pretend we never saw this.” He cracksinto a smirk. “I mean, what super secret Institute document? Neverseen one of those!” They don’t look convinced, but he isn’t reallysure what could convince them. “You know I’ve got your back.Partner.” They finally look up from the paper to him. He flashesthem a smile and holds eye contact only for a moment, long enough toprove himself, before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of hisnose.

Cait- “Shite…”It’s all she can think to say. She never had much of an opinion aboutsynths- she thought the Institute was scummy, but before Sole broughther on board, she never got involved in the politics of theCommonwealth. If the Brotherhood was out of line, if the Railroad’scause was just, if the Institute had to be stopped- she never gave itmuch thought. They were all mad bastards as far as she was concerned.She never had to give much thought even to the concepts of synthetichumans. But this same attitude meant that, in the face of thisrevelation, she didn’t feel betrayed, or suspicious. She just saw afriend in need of comfort. She placed a hand on their shoulder. “Youalright?” She can feel them shaking ever so slightly, and squeezesthem a little harder. “Bastards, messing with people like this.”A smile plays on her lips, and she claps them on the back. “Youknow, I didn’t give my father nearly the beating he deserved. What doya’ say we rectify it with yours?”

Piper- One of herbiggest fears, the night terror she had for countless nights, was theInstitute replacing someone precious to her. She often dreamed of Natcoming home one day different. The difference that came when someonewas replicated. It filled her with dread and made her hate and fightthe Institute all the harder, knowing it could happen, that it hadhappened to people she knew- brothers, mothers, friends, all takenand never returned. She might not know them as intimately as she didNat or Sole, but she felt their grief. It feels… wrong, somehow.Even knowing the Sole she knows is the same one she has always known,the discovery of their origins sends chills down her spine.  Lookingat them now, it was like looking at a stranger with a familiar face.All the confusion and traces of fear of having someone close to herreplaced with none of the replacing. She never thought she hatedsynths as a whole,- she hated lies, she hated the Institute forplanting synths and spreading uncertainty, but now she had toquestion her own feelings. This feels like one big lie. They turn toher with a lost look on their face. “Piper, I…” Their voicecracks. The ice she felt creeping into her heart melts. She has toremember her own words; whether they’re born or built, a person is aperson. She’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if she said such things,then turned around and gave her own friend the cold shoulder forthings beyond their control. She sighs and steps forward, twines herfingers around their wrist. “I know. We’ll… we’ll figure thisout, Blue.”

Preston- Hefidgets with the strap of his rifle, his hands restless. He wantsnothing more than to pull them into a hug. He can’t imagine what theymust be feeling. To wake up one morning and realize everything youthought you knew, everything you are, everything you’ve done, all ofit was unreal, it was beyond comprehension. He isn’t sure if he wouldbe able to handle it. But he’s always known Sole is strong, strongerthan him in a lot of ways. That’s what he’s always admired aboutthem. “General.” It’s just a simple word, he’d called them by thetitle a thousand times since he’d bestowed it on them, but saying itnow almost makes them jump. “I’m not-” they almost say. “Youare,” he interjects. “The Minutemen will still stand behind you.I know I will.” They start to turn away and he captures them by thefar shoulder, coaxing them back. “Whatever you were, you’ve provenyourself time and time again to be the kick in the ass theCommonwealth needs. You’re more than what you were made for.”

X6-88- They werenever meant to see these documents. He realized too late what theyhad stumbled across, and can only stare blankly at them when theyturn to him with accusations in their gaze. Father had personallybriefed him on this experiment, it was his job to observe them, neverletting on that he knew what he knew. Now they were compromised. “Isthis true?” they ask in a shaking, yet commanding voice. “Youweren’t supposed to-” They push past him through the door, clutchingthe paper in their fist. “Sir/ma'am, just wait a moment. Allow meto explain-” “This explains it perfectly well!” He sighs,watching their back retreat. “Beta 0 9 volaris,” he calls out,and they stopped dead in their tracks. Their grip on the documentwent slack, their head drooping as every tense muscle in their bodywent limp. He’d been advised only to use their recall code in extremesituations, otherwise it would be weeks, maybe even months ofInstitute’s work down the drain. If any situation called for it, thiswas the one. He crosses to them in a few long strides. “For whatit’s worth,” he says, though he knows they can’t hear him in thisstate, “I have never considered anyone remarkable until I met you.”He relays to the Institute and hands them in to be reprogrammed.

[rivahadi]

Cry, the Beloved Country

Despite the fact that it was the white British and Dutch colonizers who introduced the Christian faith to South Africa through colonization, In Cry, the Beloved Country, this faith is the bedrock for most of the protagonists’ lives, black or white. The influence of christianity can be seen in the traits of the main character of the novel and on the events that transpire. The theme of Christianity was prevalent throughout this book; while it did have its negative effects, the positive attributes overcame them and brought out love, forgiveness and hope in Stephen Kumalo, the main character of this book. In the beginning of Book One, Kumalo receives a letter from Msimangu, a priest from the Mission House in Johannesburg, saying that Kumalo’s sister, Gertrude has become ill and that he needs to come to Johannesburg. When Kumalo arrives, Msimangu says, “I have a place for you to sleep, my friend, and you can have your meals with us here, in the Mission.” pg. 21 The role of the Mission House is to teach Christianity to the people of Johannesburg, but it’s also a place where black and white priests come together to speak freely about their problems in the community and try to brainstorm solutions. After listening to Kumalo’s brother, John, speak about the unfair treatment of black people, Msimangu says,” I am a christian. It is not in my heart to hate the white man. It was a white man who brought my father out of darkness.” pg. 37 We also meet Gertrude in book one, Absalom's long-lost sister who is a prostitute. We then meet John, Kumalo's brother, who is a politician. Kumalo is disappointed by the painful truth about Gertrude, as well as the fact that his brother has turned from the church. Stephen is good, and a man of faith. Despite his troubles, he ultimately finds peace. John Kumalo, on the other hand, rejects Christianity. Msimangu tells Stephen that his brother “has no use for the Church any more. He says that what God has not done for South Africa, man must do.” pg. 25 And then there's Absalom, Kumalo's son who fell in with a bad crowd and started stealing. Kumalo's search for his kid finally ends in prison, where Absalom is waiting for his trial for the murder of Arthur Jarvis. All three of these characters show the various kinds of crime and bad faith that have become huge problems in the black community now that traditional tribal family and social structures have broken down. In this book, we see how Kumalo is quick to forgive his family for their mistakes since God has always forgiven Kumalo for his. For example, when Gertrude seems repentant, Kumalo says to her, “God forgives us, who am I not to forgive? Let us pray.” pg. 30 The emphasis on forgiveness in this book indicates the strong christian moral framework. Christianity is central to Kumalo’s character and his understanding of the world. It is his Christian faith that allows him to bear the hardships that he faces. If everyone in South Africa embraced the Christian ideals of brotherly love, forgiveness, and charity, then perhaps Christianity could succeed in replacing the broken tribal system. However, some whites in South Africa use Christianity to rationalize injustice. They claim that God wants the blacks to remain unskilled and lacking power. In this way, Christianity becomes part of South Africa’s problems instead of a potential solution. Kumalo’s Christianity seems to blend tribal values and Christian values which overlap a good deal, he calls God “Tixo,” A major theme that develops throughout Cry, the Beloved Country is the importance of always acting with a sense of kindness. There is a specifically Christian connotation to this value, as demonstrated by the Christian influence of the characters, most specifically the pastors Stephen Kumalo and Msimangu. This simple sense of kindness is at least a partial solution to the problems in South Africa; it is the reciprocal kindness between Jarvis and Kumalo that causes the bond between them to develop, while it is Kumalo's kindness to the small white boy that pushes for Jarvis to work on behalf of South Africa by donating milk and by arranging for the placement of new farming methods in Ndotsheni. Although the church can act as a voice for conservative, even oppressive ideas, Arthur Jarvis stands on the side of black rights and demands change to the system that denies these rights. Arthur’s unfinished manuscript, validates the use of religion as a weapon against oppression. Until this point, Christianity has helped black South Africans endure the oppression of the country, but it has not helped them resist it. "The truth is, our civilization is not Christian; it is a tragic compound of great ideal and fearful practice, of loving charity and fearful clutching of possessions." pg. 155 Arthur uses religion to argue against the policies of the mines. Contradicting the argument of white Christians that blacks were made to labor for whites. A truly Christian leadership, Arthur argues, would encourage the bettering of individual talents and skills among the natives. At that time the church only reinforced white rule, the Christianity that Arthur Jarvis believes in stands on the side of black rights and demands change to the system. Kumalo spends the last chapter sitting at the top of a mountain. He goes to find perspective and to meditate and to mourn his son's death. We see Kumalo in honest prayer and thanksgiving for all that is good in his life. Kumalo demonstrates the novel's Christian message to avoid despair and to have faith in God's larger plan for the universe. As the novel comes to an end it opens out from Kumalo's personal story to a larger narrative of South Africa itself. Kumalo watches the dawn coming and observes that the village in the valley is still dark: "The great valley of the Umzimkulu is still in darkness, but the light will come there. Ndotsheni is still in darkness, but the light will come there also.” pg 236 The repetition in this passage makes the writing sound like a prayer. Clearly, the symbolism of light and dark is to talk about good and evil in South Africa, and to pray for change. The town of Ndotsheni is "still in darkness" because it suffers from the inequality and poverty that Kumalo and Jarvis are working hard to change. The hopeful statement that "light will come there also" implies that someday, Ndotsheni and the great valley of Umzimkulu—and all of South Africa—will eventually see the light, that they will someday become more desegregated and less racially divided places. With all the Biblical references in this novell, we can see that Alan Paton is a religious man and feels that faith will give hope to his beloved country. As I previously mentioned, the way that Christianity plays into these characters’ lives is illustrated most clearly with Stephen. The influence of christianity can be seen in the traits of Stephen Kumalo and on the events that transpire. At his darkest moment—having just discovered that his son has killed a white man and will likely be put to death—is commanded to pray. He stands and prays on the mountainside at the hour he knows his son is being executed, and it is only this nature and faith that gives him peace. Stephens faith brought out love, forgiveness and hope in him. It is because of his Christian faith that he was able to bear the hardships that he faced. Cry, the Beloved Country was an incredible read. I have learned how to have faith in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. After all it’s better to have faith in something than none at all.

Dear Dr. Shea, When writing my essay I focused on making my thesis concise and strong. I avoided unnecessary words, and making it sound like a statement. I tried to make sure the point/argument I was making was clear. Before I went straight into it, I gave a little background on christianity in South Africa and how it connected to the book. I also added my own personal connection and re-capping some of the main points I made that support what I said in my thesis. Lastly I went over my paper multiple times and restructured a number of sentences as some were very choppy to begin with. Happy reading :)

Sincerely,

Riva

[hereticaloracles]

Asteroid Files: Agamemnon

Helios on Agamemnon– Have you had one of those days where everything goes wrong and none of it is your fault? And then you burn down an entire city just because your brother’s father’s uncle’s cousin’s former roomate was mad about it too? Well, you might have a friend in this asshat of an asteroid hero…

The Astronomy– 911 Agamemnon is a large Jupiter trojan and a suspected binary asteroid from the Greek camp, approximately 168 kilometers (100 miles) in diameter. It was discovered on 19 March 1919, by German astronomer Karl Reinmuth at the Heidelberg Observatory in southwest Germany. The dark D-type asteroid is one of the largest Jupiter trojans and has a rotation period of 6.6 hours. It is named after the Greek King Agamemnon, a main character of the Iliad. It orbits the Sun at a distance of 4.9–5.6 AU once every 12 years and 1 month (4,427 days; semi-major axis of 5.28 AU). Its orbit has an eccentricity of 0.07 and an inclination of 22° with respect to the ecliptic.

The Myth– Agamemnon was a king of Mycenae- the son of King Atreus and Queen Aerope of Mycenae, the brother of Menelaus, the husband of Clytemnestra and the father of Iphigenia, Electra or Laodike, Orestes and Chrysothemis. Agamemnon’s family history had been tarnished by murder, incest, and treachery, consequences of the heinous crime perpetrated by his ancestor, Tantalus, and then of a curse placed upon Pelops, son of Tantalus, by Myrtilus, whom he had murdered. Thus misfortune hounded successive generations of the House of Atreus, until atoned by Orestes in a court of justice held jointly by humans and gods.

When Helen, the wife of Menelaus, was taken to Troy by Paris, Agamemnon commanded the united Greek armed forces in the ensuing Trojan War. Preparing to depart for Troy, Agamemnon’s army incurred the wrath of the goddess Artemis. Misfortunes, including a plague and a lack of wind, prevented the army from sailing. Finally, the prophet Calchas announced that the wrath of the goddess could only be propitiated by the sacrifice of Agamemnon’s daughter Iphigenia. Classical dramatizations differ on how willing either father or daughter was to this fate; some include such trickery as claiming she was to be married to Achilles, but Agamemnon did eventually sacrifice Iphigenia. Her death appeased Artemis, and the Greek army set out for Troy. Several alternatives to the human sacrifice have been presented in Greek mythology. Other sources, such as Iphigenia at Aulis, say that Agamemnon was prepared to kill his daughter, but that Artemis accepted a deer in her place, and whisked her away. Hesiod said she became the goddess Hecate.

Agamemnon was the commander-in-chief of the Greeks during the Trojan War. During the fighting, Agamemnon killed Antiphus and fifteen other Trojan soldiers, according to one source. But in the “Iliad” itself, he’s shown to slaughter hundreds more in Book 11 during his “aristea” loosely translated to “day of glory” which is the most similar to Achilles‘ “aristea” in Book 21 (they both are compared to lions and destructive fires in battle, their hands are described as “splattered with gore” and “invincible,” the Trojans flee to the walls, they both are appealed to by one of their victims, they are both avoided by Hector, they both get wounded in the arm or hand, and they both kill the one who wounded them). Even before his “aristea,” Agamemnon was considered to be one of the three best warriors on the Greek side as proven when Hector challenges any champion of the Greek side to fight him in Book 7, and Agamemnon (along with Diomedes and Big Aias) is one of the three most wished for to face him out of the nine strongest Greek warriors who volunteered. And after they reconciled, even Achilles admits in Book 23 that Agamemnon is “the best in strength and in throwing the spear.” That claim is further proven by the fact that Agamemnon was the only major warrior on either side to never need the gods’ direct intervention to increase his strength or give him any unfair advantages in battle and yet he still caused incredible destruction almost on the scale of Achilles.

The Iliad tells the story about the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles in the final year of the war. Following one of the Achaean Army’s raids, Chryseis, daughter of Chryses, one of Apollo’s priests, was taken as a war prize by Agamemnon. Chryses pleaded with Agamemnon to free his daughter but was met with little success. Chryses then prayed to Apollo for the safe return of his daughter, which Apollo responded to by unleashing a plague over the Greek Army. After learning from the Prophet Calchas that the plague could be dispelled by returning Chryseis to her father, Agamemnon reluctantly agreed, (but first berated Calchas for previously forcing Agamemnon to sacrifice his daughter (Iphigenia) and released his prize. However, as compensation for his lost prize, Agamemnon demanded a new prize. As a result, Agamemnon stole an attractive slave called Briseis, one of the spoils of war, from Achilles. Achilles, the greatest warrior of the age, withdrew from battle in response to Agamemnon’s action and put the Greek armies at risk of losing the war. Agamemnon, having realized Achilles’s importance in winning the war against the Trojan Army, sent ambassadors begging for Achilles to return, offering him riches and the hand of his daughter in marriage, but Achilles refused, only being spurred back into action when his husband closest friend, Patroclus, was killed in battle.

Although not the equal of Achilles in bravery, Agamemnon was a representative of “kingly authority”. As commander-in-chief, he summoned the princes to the council and led the army in battle. His chief fault was his overwhelming haughtiness; an over-exalted opinion of his position that led him to insult Chryses and Achilles, thereby bringing great disaster upon the Greeks. After the capture of Troy, Cassandra, the doomed prophetess and daughter of Priam, fell to Agamemnon’s lot in the distribution of the prizes of war. After a stormy voyage, Agamemnon and Cassandra either landed in Argolis, or were blown off course and landed in Aegisthus’ country. Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife, had taken Aegisthus, son of Thyestes, as a lover. When Agamemnon came home he was slain by either Aegisthus (in the oldest versions of the story) or Clytemnestra. According to the accounts given by Pindar and the tragedians, Agamemnon was slain in a bath by his wife alone, a blanket of cloth or a net having first been thrown over him to prevent resistance. Clytemnestra also killed Cassandra. Her jealousy of Cassandra, and her wrath at the sacrifice of Iphigenia and at Agamemnon’s having gone to war over Helen of Troy, are said to have been the motives for her crime.

Why He Matters– Where do I even begin with this one… Okay, so before I get too deep into this, let me just preface this by telling you all that the Iliad and the Odyssey were my damn bedtime stories growing up (along with all the other Greek tales of myth and godly buffoonery). As a child I always FUCKING HATED AGAMEMNON. Thought he was a whiny, brash, spolied child. As an adult I still do. So there’s some bias here.

Now. what do we do with this hero of heroes? What role does he play in the chart? For starters, lets just call a spade a spade and give him anger issues, rage, the like. More than that, I kind of feel bad for the guy, he was cursed way before he was born (fucking Tantalus….)  so there’s an element of the whole “Sins of the father” trope- but his actions with Iphigenia and at Troy are his own, not his fate. In fact, I would go so far as to say that Agamemnon is a point in which you can defy fate, and overcome anything through sheer force of will alone (that whole bit about not needing divine intervention and still outperforming Achilles, my second favorite Hero…. Very impressive). So there’s something good, I guess. Trouble is, he’s also indicative of where you lose EVERYTHING you care about, and your “overcoming” becomes a Pyrrhic victory at best. Agamemnon is where you have to sacrifice what you are fighting for to win the battle. The question of “You can win, but at what cost?”. He’s a straight up savage, and not in a good way (at least not anymore). Another thing, this asteroid is a point in your chart where you are ALWAYS going to be fighting an uphill battle to be noticed and for recognition for your accomplishments. Beyond that, he’s just an insufferable, cocky asshole (“and petty!”, Achilles shouts from a distance in my subconscious). Wherever you have Agamemnon you will NOT have a happy ending, and its going to be your own damn fault at the end of the day.

To find out where he shows up in your chart, go to astro.com, put in your birth details and in the extended options, all the way at the bottom of the next page, there will be a menu of additional objects. Under that is a blank space where you can enter the number 911, for Agamemnon. Once you have it entered, generate the chart! Where does Agamemnon affect your life? Let us know in the comments below!

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Asteroid Files: Agamemnon was originally published on Heretical Oracles

[averyboleyn]

So I tried to email Freeform and Disney about Shadowhunters and keeps saying my message has been blocked so I’m posting here

To whom it may concern,

 I understand that you are a very busy person and you get many emails everyday but I beg that you please read this in its entirety. I truly don’t think you understand what’s really at stake here. I want to help you understand what’s happening from a perspective you probably don’t understand, a fan. I’m not trying to harass you or annoy you I just want to be heard.

 Losing the Shadowhunters fan base would be a horrible mistake for you. Many of the Shadowhunters fans would leave the network completely. It’s a very large portion of your audience that you’re losing should you cancel Shadowhunters and not bring it back. I for one was going to watch Cloak & Dagger but couldn’t because I’ve been so busy with work and the #SaveShadowhunters twitter campaign and I think The Bold Type looks like a great show with a good message and I would like to watch it when I find the time but I can tell you right now there are many Shadowhunters fans boycotting your network and if you take Shadowhunters from them and don’t at least give it to another network so it can live on somewhere else, those fans will never watch any of your other shows.

The marketing for Shadowhunters has been lackluster since season 2 and the fans have noticed. Many believe you killed the show on purpose through not promoting it as much as your other shows. I know my mom watches The Fosters and she watched Switched at Birth, Melisa & Joey, and Young and Hungry and I’ve never noticed any commercials for Shadowhunters during those shows. Online I’ve seen a million ads for Sirens, Beyond, and Cloak & Dagger before many YouTube videos but none for Shadowhunters. Since the Teen Choice nominations came out I haven’t seen anything from you about the Shadowhunters nominations. They have 5 nominations in 3 categories. You should be very proud and be promoting that. I also haven’t seen anything from you to try and get them an Emmy nomination but I have seen your Emmy campaigns for other shows.

 I can forgive you for all of this if you bring back the show. I understand there’s a lot that goes into saving a cancelled show and being as you’re involved with 2 other companies with Shadowhunters it becomes even more difficult but I assure you whatever you must do to keep this show will be worth it. We don’t care if we only get 10-12 episodes a season if we keep getting seasons. Even if you have to sell to Netflix at least you would somewhat pacify the angry fans. If you let the show die when there was an option for it to live on somewhere else you will lose the entire fandom. They will leave your network and the rest of your shows.

 I’m sure you’ve become annoyed by the fans constantly taking over your tweets about other shows and movies on your network but they want to be heard. Acknowledge them. What they’ve done so far is massive. It’s only been a week and they’ve already accomplished so much. The media is starting to notice as well. You need to think about how all of this is going to affect your image with viewers in the long run. For the most part you’re dealing with millennials which are currently the largest generation so remember how many people you’re pissing off. We don’t forgive very easily but you still have time to fix this. It’s not just about this show it’s also other seeing how you treat one of your own shows and its fans. Who’s to say you wouldn’t do it to any of your other shows?

 Several news outlets have written about the cancellation and the fan campaign which are linked below and I’m sure by the time you read this more will have been written.

·        https://people.com/tv/shadowhunters-fans-in-an-uproar/?utm_source=twitter.com&xid=socialflow_twitter_peoplemag&utm_campaign=peoplemagazine&utm_medium=social

·        https://www.express.co.uk/showbiz/tv-radio/973585/Shadowhunters-cancelled-Why-was-Shadowhunters-cancelled-petition-save-Netflix-Freeform

·        http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-5809005/Shadowhunters-cancelled-best-social-media-reactions.html

·        https://www.usmagazine.com/entertainment/news/shadowhunters-ep-promises-satisfying-ending-after-surprising-cancellation/

·        http://www.justjaredjr.com/2018/06/11/katherine-mcnamara-hopes-that-the-fans-social-media-campaign-to-save-shadowhunters-works/

·        http://www.justjaredjr.com/2018/06/05/shadowhunters-fans-get-save-shadowhunters-trending-worldwide-make-a-strong-case-to-save-the-show/

·        https://metro.co.uk/2018/06/10/many-episodes-shadowhunters-left-will-shown-7619716/

·        http://theseriesregulars.com/saveshadowhunters-the-power-of-fandom/

·        http://talknerdywithus.com/2018/06/12/saving-shadowhunters/

·        http://tvafterdark.com/why-its-important-to-save-shadowhunters/

·        https://www.buzzfeed.com/shwriter/saveshadowhunters-is-fundraising-for-the-trevor-p-3ho7l?utm_term=.rqjOmMO54#.wsEzQLzNZ

·        https://www.express.co.uk/showbiz/tv-radio/973585/Shadowhunters-cancelled-Why-was-Shadowhunters-cancelled-petition-save-Netflix-Freeform

·        https://www.teenvogue.com/story/freeform-cancelled-shadowhunters-after-3-seasons

·        https://www.telegraph.co.uk/on-demand/0/hidden-netflix-feature-allows-users-request-movies-tv-shows/

·        https://www.girlfriend.com.au/fans-petition-for-shadowhunters-to-be-saved?utm_source=t.co&utm_medium=referral

·        https://cartermatt.com/311246/petition-save-shadowhunters-nears-100000-signatures/

·        https://cartermatt.com/310436/shadowhunters-season-4-can-the-series-be-saved/

Your public image is at stake here. This isn’t just about the amazing show, the hard-working cast and crew, the dedicated and loyal fans this is also about the public’s image of you. Even people who have nothing to do with the show or the fan campaign will see the news articles and videos about it and draw their own conclusions about your networks poor handling of the situation and unfair treatment of the show and its fans.

 There are so many reasons why this show is important to society as well. This show provides representation for so many different people who deserve to see themselves on tv. It has honest portrayals of relationships, family drama, abuse, prejudice and more. It shows the damages that prejudice can have on a society and the struggle to fight against them and fight for equality. It shows the importance of celebrating differences and using those difference to contribute to the betterment of society. The entire relationship between Shadowhunters and Downworlds is an excellent display of race tensions and prejudice. There are so many reasons why this show is important so I’m going to briefly break it down based off a few characters. There are point that have been left out and many more characters worthy of this list but I tried to keep it as short as possible while still getting my point across.

 Maryse Lightwood’s redemption arc shows people the importance of admitting your mistakes and growing from them. She didn’t ignore what’d she’d done in the past she took responsibility and accepted the consequences. She asked for forgiveness from the people she’d hurt in the past and worked to make amends. Now that she’s lost her runes it will be interesting to see how it changes her and how she copes with it. She’s lost something that was so fundamental to her life and she’s been exiled from her home. People need to see her transition and struggles relearning life.

 Maia Roberts had an extremely traumatic experience and learned to live with her new lifestyle. She didn’t let being turned into a werewolf stop her dreams and continued her college career. When her ex-boyfriend returned, even though she hated him and wanted him far away from here she knew Simon needed him so she put Simon’s needs before her own feelings and asked Jordan to stay. She is loyal no matter what and even when the entire pack is against Luke she never turns her back on him because she’s fighting for what is right. She wants a better future for everyone and even when outnumbered she stands her ground. She’s also great because she’s a strong, black, female character who defies stereotypes and gives other young black girls representation and has talked about police brutality on black people and being stopped only because she was black herself.

 Magnus Bane has had so many traumatic things happen in his past: his mother’s suicide, his step-father trying to kill him, murdering his step-father, being saved from his own suicide attempt by Camille, their toxic relationship, switching bodies with Valentine, the agony rune, losing his position as High Warlock, losing his magic, his past with his father, etc. He’s been through so much and get he’s still so giving and selfless. He’d give anything to protect those he loves. He’s such an inspiration to others who have faced adversities in their lives and he’s an out and proud Asian bisexual so he gives such great representation. He shows that you can be bisexual and have real, caring, deep relationships with people and that bisexuals aren’t just greedy people who want to have sex with everyone. He loves one soul at a time, the gender doesn’t matter. Every past relationship means something to him. They’re all important and he cares them all with him through his many years of life.

 Alec Lightwood is the eldest son of a disgraced, prominent Shadowhunter family. He’s all about duty and honor. His first priority is his family. He’d do anything to help them and bring honor back to the family name. He almost married a woman he didn’t love for that reason alone. He felt it was his duty. He has always been the protector. Putting the wellbeing of others before himself, protecting his siblings, taking their punishments, etc. He came out as gay in front of the Clave. Something unheard of. He also did so by kissing a warlock, a Downworlder. His family was now more disgraced than ever and he had to deal with the backlash from his parents and fellow Shadowhunters. He dealt with guilt from that, from Jocelyn’s death, from lying about the soul sword. He’s felt so much guilt over his life he almost jumped off a building. He fights for what’s right. He set up a Downworlder cabinet when no one else cared what they had to say. He includes them in major decisions. He opened the door for other gay Shadowhunters. He gives people afraid to come out hope. They can see his struggles and see that even though it was hard he has his friends and family supporting him in the end. The people who matter most will always love you. Viewers need to see his story.

 Jace Herondale has had so many last names it’s hard to keep track. He was raised by a psychopath trying to turn him into his greatest weapon and was never shown real love as a child. He’s been told his girlfriend was his sister and then the woman he thought was his mother tried to kill him. Then he found out they weren’t his real family and his actual biological parents were dead. The only living relative he had was his grandmother, who he then killed while possessed. He was forced to run away with a madman to protect his loved ones. Then hunted, imprisoned, and tried as a criminal for doing so. His parabatai almost died trying to find him. He activated the soul sword that killed hundreds of Downworlders when he thought he was destroying it which would also kill him. He allowed a vampire he claims he doesn’t even like to nearly drain him of blood. He was murdered and brought back to life. He was then possessed and tortured in his own mind. He hurt and killed many innocent people which he will blame himself for and nearly killed his parabatai while possessed. Magnus gave up his magic to save him. Now he thinks his girlfriend is dead. He’s an abuse survivor with some pretty dangerous coping mechanisms who is learning to deal in more healthy ways and be a better person. It’s important for people to see different methods of coping and how the more destructive ones can really ruin your life. He shows the power of found family over blood family and that withholding love from a child can scare them forever. He also shows how hard it is for people like him to accept love but once they do it can be beautiful.

 Isabelle Lightwood was addicted to a drug so strong that Jem had to become a Silent Brother to overcome it. She sweat it out and moved on. She hid the addiction from her loved ones, no saw the signs, she made friends who feed her addiction and who she started have a toxic relationship with. All these things happen to people in real life. Viewers can see how easy it can be to fall into a drug habit. It snowballs so quick and effortlessly that you don’t even realize you’re an addict until it’s too late. She also dragged Raphael back into his former addiction and being around each other made them want to break their sobriety which happens all the time. It shows why it’s so important to get away from the people in your life who have a negative influence. She shows the dangerous effects drugs can have. She is also a very strong character. She pulls through her addiction and comes back just as strong as she was before. She uses her sexuality to her advantage. She doesn’t allow mean to objectify her but she uses their desire for her to get what she wants. She doesn’t care about what people think. She’s comfortable in her body and likes to show it off. She’s in complete control of body and what she does with it and she’s not afraid to put the boys in place and show she can kick ass better than any man.

 Clary Fray/Fairchild found out about the Shadow World and lost her mother on her 18th birthday. She found out her father was a psychopath who wanted to commit genocide and had her mother. She then had all this responsibility thrust at her with no knowledge of the world she was now a part of. Her best friend was killed because of her and she had to decide to revive him as a vampire. Throughout the show she’s had so much responsivity for a world she’s only known about since her birthday and she’s been judged and mistrusted because of her father who she’d never even met before now. She thought her boyfriend was her brother, she almost lost Simon over the Seelie Realm kiss with Jace, she almost die for a blood oath, her mother was killed by a demon right after she got her back and they had just made up after a fight, she found out her brother was alive only to realize he was evil and had to killed, she watched her father kill her boyfriend, then she committed treason to resurrect him which lead to his possession by The Owl demon, she was tried and put on death row for said treason, and then had to resurrect her evil father and kill him all over again before Lilith tied her to her evil brother so he could be resurrected. She’s had so much thrown at her in such a short time and yet she still stays strong, positive, and true to herself. She never lets this new world she’s apart of shake her ideas of right and wrong. She is always true to herself and an excellent role model for young girls.

 Simon Lewis was thrown into a world he doesn’t know a thing about. He died and came back as a vampire. He betrayed his clan to help his friend and was kicked out. HE had to live in a shed with werewolves who hated him. He was kidnapped by Valentine and nearly killed which resulted in becoming a daylighter. He had to avoid his family. He then was forced to come out to them as a vampire and almost killed his sister. His mother disowned him so he had to make her think he was dead. Now he thinks he killed his best friend and the reason he’s in this world to begin with. He always has a way of staying positive and finding humor in horrible situations. He cheers people up even when he’s miserable. He’s an important character to have on tv. It’s good for people to see that even though everything in the world has gone to crap, you can still laugh.

 Luke Garroway lost the love of his life, got her back, and then lost her again to a demon attack. His parabatai turned out to be evil and tried to kill him. He was turned into a werewolf and disowned by his own people. He had to find a new way and a new life. He’s been a father figure to many characters on the show and has help guide them. He’s loyal and a voice of reason. He admits when he’s wrong and he never loses faith in the ones he loves. When Maryse Lightwood apologized to him he forgave her and after she was deruned he offered her help and friendship.

 Raphael Santiago is a devote Catholic who had to learn how to live with his religion and new life as a vampire. He is also asexual. Even though he is supposed to be aromatic and is shown having romantic feelings for Isabelle Lightwood he still said on the show that he didn’t want to have sex with her because he doesn’t like sex. That’s a huge thing for other asexuals to see. They are a heavily underrepresented group and deserve representation just like everyone else and have a character on a major tv show say they don’t like sex is a huge step. Inclusion of all sexualities is important and should be shown as often as possible.

 Valentine is pure evil. His jealous of others’ abilities consumed him until he decided genocide was the only option. He shows how easy it is for people to be manipulated by a charming character to believe in a horrible idea. He slowly pulled people in and convinced them what they were doing was for the betterment of everyone. He’s the epidemy of corrupt power and shows why people should always question leaders and follow what they know is right. You must always fight for what’s right no matter what the majority is telling you.

I’ve tried to show how and why this show is so important. Even if it wasn’t important for people to see it’s still a really great show with amazing sets, costumes, music, actions sequences, etc. The crew is so wonderful with the fans and the cast are so approachable and funny they add that much more to the show. The cast has such an appreciation for who their characters really are. They all love their characters and always stay true to them. The show is just a really amazing show and I can honestly say in my opinion it’s the best show I’ve seen in my 28 years of life. The fans are fighting so hard to save their show.

 The Change.org petition to save the show has over 114,000 supporters and counting. https://www.change.org/p/anyone-who-this-show-has-saved-save-shadowhunters

Fans have raised over $10,000 for The Trevor Project in honor of #SaveShadowhunters. https://give.thetrevorproject.org/fundraiser/1496004

There are over 8 million tweets with the hashtag #SaveShadowhunters and 6 other Shadowhunter themed hastags. https://twitter.com/hashtag/SaveShadowhunters?src=hash&lang=en

There’s a campaign website: https://www.saveshadowhunters.com/

 The fans will not be giving up anytime soon and for good reason. They are passionate about their show because it’s one of the best out there. It could be your greatest accomplishment and go on for 10 more seasons easy if you give it a chance. Think about your fans and your future and remember #SaveShadowhunters.

 Thank you for your time

[trabzonto]

POLITICAL HUMOR & SATIRE

Poor Me is a magazine dedicated to people who see themselves as victims. Read the new Trump-Comey edition – their thickest issue to date.

Challenges of being a drama queen in the age of Trump. Experts: "Competition is fierce."

IN THIS ISSUE:

March against fascism ends with 400,000 fewer deaths than expectedHillary to victims: "poison the wells, scorch the earth"Kathy Griffin: From woke to broke in one easy stepTop 10 methods to make the world feel guilty and apologizeLeBron James needs a day without white people: "No matter how much money I have, I’m still as paranoid as a homeless drug addict"Is everything Trump’s fault? Ask an expert!

EXCLUSIVE – Closed session: Comey, 56, demonstrates on doll where he feared Trump was going to touch him.

Many years ago Nancy Pelosi bravely said, "We have to pass the bill to know what’s in it." But even after it was passed, no one has ever read the Affordable Care Act in its entirety; it is so large that it has its own gravitational field.

In a dramatic stroke of brilliance and keen journalistic instinct, or perhaps outright laziness, we decided to start from the back. Here’s what we found.

Hospital stays exceeding two days require patient-provided bedpans and light bulbs.Co-pays are now tracked by as a Wall Street investment index.Half off Abortion-Tuesdays at Family Dollar stores everywhere.The term “deductibles” is omitted from the medical lexicon in favor of “insurer’s fair share.”Malpractice lawsuits shall be known as “pulling the ‘ol Okey-Dokey.”A 20% tip automatically added to prescription drug purchases.School lunch programs shall include Soylent Green Fridays.

As a member of the white male hetero Christian class my peoples have been ruling the world far to long. It is only fitting that I and my ilk get a taste of our own medicine and accept our demotion in exchange for the promotion of the victim class. The only thing my peoples can do to alleviate our deserved pains is to sacrifice our place willingly and eagerly. We shall vocally praise the oppressed, admit our sins and accept our lashings. When we are ordered to leave our campuses because of our whiteness we shall do so with a smile. When we are reminded of our privilege we shall accept it with a tear. Equality before the law is not the goal. Lady Justice is not blind, comrade. Her eyes are open and her scales are now tipped accordingly. That is the "Democratic Ideal" for which we now must live.

Early this morning President Trump challenged the nation to discover the true meaning of "covfefe."

We accepted the challenge and we’re pretty sure we have figured it out.

Just some pictures and headlines:

– Kathy Griffin mistakenly beheads Alec Baldwin in Trump costume; nobody cares.

– Islamic State disavows Kathy Griffin, pleads with her to "chill the f@#& out"

– ISIS Condemns Kathy Griffin For Cultural Appropriation

etc.

An academic study from researchers at Brunel University London assessed 171 men, looking at their height, weight, overall physical strength and bicep circumference, along with their views on redistribution of wealth and income inequality. The study, published in the Evolution and Human Behavior journal, ​found that weaker men were more likely to favor socialist policies than stronger men.

Back when I lived in New York I went shopping for a modern-looking microfiber jacket suitable for cool weather. I visited a dozen boutique stores in Manhattan, trying on a variety of nice-looking jackets. None of them fit me in the chest. Even if I was able to zip them up over my chest, I couldn’t move my arms…

A recently found 1,200-year-old fossil is giving anthropologists new insights into a warrior-like, bipedal masculine human specimen they have identified as Testiculus Englishmanus, a mysterious ancestor of modern-day British men.

The remains were discovered in Wessex, at the site of the historic Battle of Edington (present-day Wiltshire), where in May, 878 AD, patriotic Anglo-Saxons defeated "The Heathen Army" of the Viking invaders, leading to the eventual liberation and unification of England.

The 6 foot-long fossil reveals that the extinct early man of England possessed two large working testicles, which shatters all modern theories about the origins of today’s residents of the British Isles.

The world’s best known dealmaker-turned-president showed that when it comes to real estate, nobody out-negotiates the Trumpster.

The president met briefly with Pope Francis, whom Trump described as a "…very, very nice man. Very hospitable," before agreeing on a price for the Vatican.

Subjects discussed by the two leaders included the environment, world peace, religious tolerance, and property values.

"After a little going back and forth, I finally asked His Holiness what he wanted for the Vatican. He made an offer, but you know how deals are, he started low and I started high," Trump told the accredited media shortly afterwards.

Do you hate Donald Trump?

Is your lifelong dream to destroy his presidency? Do you live for nothing else these days?

Are you looking for a flexible job that requires little effort while allowing you to be as outrageous as you want? Do you enjoy throwing stuff at the wall and watching it slide down to the floor leaving a trail of slime?

Then mainstream media outlets, especially the New York Times and Washington Post, would like to offer you a position as an ANONYMOUS SOURCE!

Harvard University has written a new dress code that defines ties, a traditional male dress accessory, as a symbol of oppression, chauvinism, and hate speech. The decision came after a women’s rights group petitioned the school board to ban neckties, claiming that students have been triggered by seeing such a “flamboyant and offensive” micro-aggression carried around even by their own professors.

Immediately after the board’s decision, a mass email was sent to all students and faculty of the new dress code, stating that if the new policy was disobeyed it could bring about “serious consequences” including expulsion.

Komrades, I made this little vid where Ragnar Lothbrok gets a glimpse of his people’s nightmarish future that is 21st century Sweden.

It has no major spoilers from the show "Vikings".

French PM candidate Emmanuel Macron has proposed a new initiative, the "Fair Redistribution of Terror in Europe Program," that he hopes will revive his faltering campaign days before France’s voters go the polls.

"It is unfair that France and other enlightened nations that open their borders to Muslim refugees, must suffer the most from Islamic terrorism," Macron said at a campaign rally on Monday. "As a fair-minded person, I am saddened and outraged that less enlightened nations, especially Poland, who close their borders to Muslim migrants, get to enjoy terror-free existence…

For thousands of years, since the end of the Ice Age, international workers gathered in their caves on May Day to organize, protest, and represent. They sat around bonfires chanting Party-approved slogans and denouncing U.S. imperialism.

Every year the changing Current Truth called for different slogans, which were promptly provided to the masses by this glorious Party Organ. And this year is no different. See the most current, updated, and expanded list of slogans for May Day 2017.

– Make America small again!

A sad day today. The People’s Climate Marches in both Denver and Colorado Springs today had to be cancelled because of snow.

I demand a Congressional investigation. Surely Trump has colluded with the Russians to hack our weather in order to make those of us on the side of Truth, Justice and The Socialist Way look bad.

And to think the Russians used to be our friends…

Winter Blast Putting Climate Protests On Ice In Colorado…

Fearless Girl has gotten a little cocky since she stood up to the Wall Street bull – that symbol of financial optimism and prosperity. So brash in fact that she’s graduated from turning this bull into a steer and now takes her intimidation on the road.

Her search for other icons that she can threaten with her icy stare and bravado is taking her on a world-wide excursion. We’ve captured the best moments in this photo essay as FG traveled the globe.

As the world community senses the looming destruction of our planet by Trump’s imperial knowledge-rejecting regime, scientists all over the globe stand up and say No pasaran!

On April 22, and the battlecry of Earth Day resounding through the canyons of our metropoles, Science will march in the front row!

Physicists – Relentlessly Smash Inequality of Atoms!

Chemists – Boldly create New Matter out of Equalized Atoms!

Mathematicians – Progressive Gender-Awareness NOW!

Climatists – Seize the Rudder in the Glorious March of Science!

MIT Press is out with a new book that teaches children the tenets of Karl Marx with fairy tales.

The little girl’s armpit hair is especially disturbing. I understand it must be a nod to feminism, and far be it from me to dictate rules of body hygiene to any women and their consenting partners.

The reason it’s disturbing is because little girls don’t have armpit hair.

So the book’s authors either have never had children themselves and forgot their own childhood, or they are perverts who fantasize about a world where little girls have armpit hair or where adult women with armpit hair look, dress, and behave like little girls and break things they don’t or won’t understand.

In 1988 we told the world that "We only have ten years left to save the planet."

In 1989, our wonderful comrades at the United [in Marxism] Nations decreed the same thing.

Then during the 2000 election season our Holy Prophet Who Has Never Been Wrong, Al Gorski (Muslim name: al-goreeza) issued a fatwa that we only had ten years left to save the planet.

Nobody listened. George Bush [spit, spit] won stole the election and the planet’s environmental destruction continued.

So, in 2006, prophet al-goreeza issued another fatwa…

Life is complicated these days, and there’s just so much outrage to absorb your time. You may be like many Americans, and just not sure what you should be outraged about and which side to pick.

But wait no longer! Simply download the free People’s Current Truth App™ and you’ll be officially in the know. Whether it’s Cecil, Harambe, Bush, or Trump, you’ll receive timely updates with clear instructions on…

What to be angry about! When to feel triggered! Which side to choose! When to choose the other side! How to vent your righteous anger! Where to go for t-shirts and matching placards! Soros funding locator! Progressive social media protest calendaring function!

United Airlines will not be beat, even if you take their seat.

Previously, airlines were required to pay passengers four times their ticket price if they were more than 4 hours late, but United now has a deal beater.

If they need a passenger’s seat, they will simply beat them and drag them from the plane.

This way, they keep costs low for the little people, while kicking the teeth in of uppity, fancy doctors.

Tears of Social Justice Warriors IVANKA TRUMP BUSINESS SAVVY Entrepreneurial skills showcased

Now that Ivanka Trump’s perfume has seen a sales explosion due to, of all things, retail outlets removing the brand from their shelves, Ms Trump has been looking to further incorporate irritated liberals in her business strategy.

Retailers did not consider the fact that the vast majority of liberal women don’t enjoy smelling pleasant, so any move related to perfume inventory would go unnoticed by this demographic…

Every year on April First, internationally known as The Current Truth Day, all progressive humanity celebrates the People’s Cube’s glorious anniversary. Twelve years ago today, on April 1, 2005, this Party Organ was launched out of an undisclosed bunker and swiftly rose over the horizon like the red hexahedron-shaped sun of the revolution, bringing the light of Party-approved thought straight out of the Motherland to the toiling masses of the darkened, non-socialist parts of planet Earth.

Comrade hippies at the HealiUm Art Center in Atlanta, GA, have come up with a creative plan to heal our divided nation. Mocking Donald Trump’s book title, The Art of the Deal, they named their project The Art of The Heal, calling everyone who self-identifies as being an artist to create over 100,000 pieces of art to send to the White House by July 4th, 2017: "Gift the collective art to the President with a request to display the gifted art pieces in the White House for public viewing."

San Francisco, CA — 81 year old Cynthia Cunningham was hospitalized during the early morning hours today after she was found barely conscious in Target department store women’s restroom. The elderly woman fell into a toilet becoming lodged in the public commode when the seat that Cunningham attempted to use was left up.

According to the victim’s family, Cunningham went missing last night after she went into town to buy her grandson a birthday card and a video game. The frail customer with poor eyesight and a weak bladder was recorded on security cameras rushing into the restroom a half-hour before the store closed only to not emerge until EMTs carried her out…

Step right up!

Get your London Edition of Terror Response Bingo here!

To play, keep the card by your computer as you read the news and social media reaction to the attack.

When you see something in the news or on social media that matches something on the card, check it off!

Welcome to the People’s Cube clearing house for all the latest, scandalous, fascist, and Russian outrages of the Trump administration.

What is the latest, breathless, gotta-tell-it-now scandal that defies credulity?

DID YOU KNOW that Neil Gorsuch may have taken his Bar Exam with one shoe untied? Can you believe he’s actually being considered for the Supreme Court?

DID YOU KNOW that Jim Sessions may have worn a WHITE pocket square folded with a POINTY TOP? Yeah, that’s not racist (sarcasm)! And they say Trump…

"A Day Without Sobriety" campaign gains momentum in the Motherland.

Concerned that Russians don’t consume enough alcohol in the month of March, Russia’s Orthodox Church has now made St. Patrick’s Day​ an official holiday over the country’s enormous territory.

Because the Orthodox Church’s calendar is two weeks behind the Western calendar, the celebration is being scheduled on March 30th, almost two weeks after the drinking has wrapped up in the rest of the world. This means that Russia’s 143 million-strong population will be carousing on the 17th when everyone else does it, and then on the 30th…

In joining the fun of a "Day Without" campaign I am starting a new "Day Without" campaign called "A Day Without a Day Without" campaign.

I know it is hard to imagine living a day without being reminded of the sensitivities and abuses faced by our perpetually aggrieved brethren but I am in desperate need of "A Day Without Guilt."

After my "A Day Without A Day Without" campaign I am proposing some additional "Day Without" campaigns to fill our annual calendars. Please help me complete our 365 day schedule.

Dear oppressed women and non-women who identify as females!

On this wonderful spring holiday the Party takes a day off from the usual revolutionary struggle in order to celebrate all the international contributions to social justice made by self-identified female-gendered persons and wishes for them to crush their oppressors anywhere they can find them – and get even!

Remember: 50% of the world’s population has 100% of the Y-chromosomes and 91% of the testosterone. #SMASH FASCIST TESTICLES!

We will never have a truly equal society until we can eliminate Penis Envy by eliminating the penis. #All GENITALS BELONG TO THE STATE!

To go along with Disney’s re-envisioning of Beauty and the Beast, and their new show Princes, they’ve also released a new children’s cartoon – perfect for the kids to watch while eating their cereal during Saturday morning prime time.

A hundred years ago (April 6, 1917) America entered World War I. The prevailing media messaging of the time was captured in these war propaganda posters.

Things have changed in the last hundred years, and so has the media messaging. This raises some questions:

Who comes up with this new messaging? Who is the target? What is it aimed to accomplish? And can a nation survive this mindset if it prevails? Could any nation survive it?

Because while the messaging has changed, the world hasn’t…

If today’s New York Times editors had been in charge in 1917 (strumming harp music)…

A likely illegal publication of a private German telegram to culturally diverse Hispanic and Oriental leaders causes rage, Teutophobia among white alt-right U.S. nationalists

The questionably legal publication of a private German telegram has some alt-right conspiracy buffs attributing the worst possible motives to the German government.

The telegram, which legal experts caution may be illegal for citizens to read…

Today’s lesson: how to condescend to minorities and still score liberal points

This photo, initially posted on Reddit, has quickly become viral. An unnamed teacher in Massachusetts, believing that her students were as shocked by Trump’s election as she was, posted these equality-enforcement proclamations on the classroom wall.

It must be very reassuring for "Latino(a)" students to see a daily reminder that they are not rapists or drug dealers. The same goes for Muslim students who supposedly need to be reminded that they are not terrorists in case they forget. Black students are probably expected to feel grateful for being sheltered from certain death that lurks outside; paranoia is always good for morale.

It is the dawn of the Trump era. The deep state, also known as "a state within a state" is in danger of being drained. In Washington, DC, an elite group of career government bureaucrats bands together to issue the squeal of a lifetime.

The sabotage of Trump and his troops serves as the backdrop for the gripping story about self-serving pen pushers who put the entire country’s future on the line to defend their swamp, trough, and the deep state from Trump’s swamp-draining forces.

Despite inconclusive evidence and ignoring the possible ramifications, the deep state orders the attack…

Each February, film fans around the world turn their attention to the Academy Awards called "The Oscars." But this year is different. "The movies" we so love and cherish have given way to astonishing performances right here on our streets – free of charge! We’ve saturated ourselves with popcorn while watching entertaining "snowflake" routines since Election Day, and it only gets better.

Buy movie tickets? Why! We’ve got free entertainment! We’ve watched more liberal meltdowns on YouTube than movies. We get excited and well… forget the cinema! I’m staying home to watch the liberals!

Comrade Psychiatrist is unhappy with Mr. Trump’s "delusional reformism."

American progressives have been enamored with many Soviet ideas in their time, trying to transplant them to the U.S. – from government diktat and central planning to academic indoctrination and propaganda through entertainment. And while the Soviet Union has gone the way of the dodo, its glorious socialist legacy is still up for the picking.

One of these unparalleled Soviet achievements is the use of psychiatry to silence dissent and delegitimize political opposition…

The word “haters” is a very loaded term, and a nonsensical one to boot. The left-wing Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC), for example, claims to be the ultimate arbiter of “hate,” “haters,” “hate groups,” and “hate crimes.” This 501(c)(3) nonprofit collects handsome sums of money under the pretext of keeping what they call a hatewatch. At the end of 2016 their endowment stood at $302.8 million. That means they have a direct financial interest in painting a picture of a widespread organized hatred in the United States, which “proves” their importance and scares the donors into parting with even more of their money.

With all the Days of Resistance and Days Without Some Victim Group we’ve had lately, and will continue to have for the next four years—or until He Who Shall Not Be Named Because That Only Legitimizes and Worse, Humanizes Him—is impeached—it’s clear we need to set aside another Day, this one to demand paid leave for protesting. We shall call it the People’s Paid Protest Leave, or PPPL™ for short.

Because this is about People. People who care. People who are fighting fascism. People who want only to take back the democracy that last November 8th was ripped from us as if we were raped—which, in a sense, we were.

Is it just me, or do you also wonder how liberals can possibly function, let alone win elections? This lump in their heads, they refer to it as a mind, is made of absurdities, inconsistencies and contradictions. How is possible to hold so many mutually exclusive beliefs?

The fact is, there’s a method to their insanity and sane people will keep losing to the insane unless they understand what that method is.

Let’s take love and hate. Scientists have discovered that both love and hate originate in the same nervous circuits in the brain.

I’m not sure if this has been picked up in America but our UK press are reporting that President Trump was "bashing" the BBC.

‘Here’s another beauty’: Donald Trump bashes the BBC again in heated back-and-forth with ‘impartial free and fair’ reporter Jon Sopel during bizarre White House press conference

– President said ‘Here’s another beauty’ after asking Jon Sopel where he was from – North America editor replied ‘It’s a good line’, adding: ‘Impartial, free and fair’

Our correspondent in Belgium, Comrade Minitrue, has sent us a transmission about the growing prominence of the People’s Cube in the European Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (EUSSR) and its glorious capital, Brussels.

In an article describing the ongoing ruthless purge of all right-wing sources and personalities from Wikipedia, a Dutch-language Belgian newspaper, Sceptr [Scepter], describes us as a "right-wing satirical website." (How far to the left must the comrades in Brussels have gone in order to see our truly Stalinist Party organ as "right-wing"?)

The ever-vigilant Komrad Silverman has done THE PEOPLE a great favor by korrektly identifying markings, disregarded by most wrong-thinking people, as simple utility worker symbols.

They are, in fact, secret and subversive codes of hatred, used by a world-wide conspiracy of fascists, known as the The Utility Workers’ Army, whose hidden agenda is Orange Supremacy.

Thanks to the eagle eye of Sarah Silverman, the secret signs of the Trump Nazi Illuminati have been exposed.

Orange is the new white.

Valentine Day in People’s Cube history

Dating a dictator can be a scary and dangerous endeavor. But it also offers an opportunity to meet the authoritarian oppressor of your dreams, provided that the proper precautions are taken. Whether you are a young starry-eyed Utopian or have been around the eastern bloc for a while, everyone can benefit from these tips and guidelines for safe dictator-dating procedures.

Nordstrom stores – among others – recently stopped carrying Ivanka Trump’s wares. They claim that this decision is not at all politically motivated, but strictly a result of lagging sales. Nordstrom swears their Ivanka Trump dump has nothing to do with a boycott campaign waged by a random marketing consultant, under the hashtag #GrabYourWallet.

The timing that Ivanka’s sales lagged around the same time her father became close to winning the election, which is also when the boycott campaign ramped up, but not a moment before, is purely coincidental.

Armed with a baseball bat and wearing a fashionable rioting unisex ensemble, Flat Antifa is looking for some fascism to smash.

Fascism is anything that Flat Antifa doesn’t understand. It needs to be smashed. Fascists are those who refuse to conform to Flat Antifa’s non-conformism. They need to be smashed.

Flat Antifa obtained these views in his/her extremely expensive school, and is prepared to swing his/her bat at anyone whom Flat Antifa’s extremely progressive professor defines as extremist.

Included on the list of things to smash are gender fascism, sexist fascism, racist fascism, homo-fascism, hetero-fascism, bi-fascism, trans-fascism, adult fascism, and parental fascism.

Help Flat Antifa find more fascism to smash.

Hooters announced today that they are preparing to hire 10,000 Muslim refugee women in a show of support to the immigrant community and in a display of solidarity with other American companies that have offered similar support.

Hooters joins the list of companies such as Starbucks, which has also offered to hire 10,000 refugees instead of veterans or unemployed Americans, as well as AirBNB, which has offered to house these immigrants.

Vladimir Putin deflated footballs used by the New England Patriots – it was revealed today by CNN.

This is the only way that they could have won the Superbowl.

It has been determined that he did it to make Trump’s team victorious. Women and minorities have been hardest hit by this latest defeat.

You may have seen the recent fake news that the Statue of Liberty was originally meant to be a womyn of the Religion of Peace:

ISLAMIC LADY LIBERTY: CBS CLAIMS STATUE OF LIBERTY WAS ORIGINALLY A MUSLIM WOMAN, ACCORDING TO "RESEARCHERS"

No word on whether her clitoris had been removed. All of which is Well and Good. But it only scratches the surface.

Outspoken comedian Sarah Silverman thinks that Trump voters are racist, she said yesterday while wearing blackface makeup to emphasize her point.

Later, after working herself up into some kind of frenzy, Silverman appeared to call for a military coup in a tweet, while protests against Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos turned violent after Soros’ and the DNC’s minions attacked people with shovels and clubs while burning things and breaking windows.

‘WAKE UP & JOIN THE RESISTANCE. ONCE THE MILITARY IS W US FASCISTS GET OVERTHROWN. MAD KING & HIS HANDLERS GO BYE BYE,’ Silverman wrote.

Later she added: ‘We’re all gonna die…

"The carnage perpetrated in the academic torture-chambers of the mind leave students with the following sediment in their brains: existence is a jungle, fear is man’s permanent state, skepticism is the mark of maturity, cynicism is the mark of realism and, above all, the hallmark of an intellectual is the denial of the intellect. These ‘activists’ are so literally the products of modern philosophy that someone should cry to all the university administrations and faculties: ‘Brothers, you asked for it!’"

– Ayn Rand, 1965

Famous Tweets in chronological order:

– Moses – Jews for Social Justice & Against Moses – Pharaoh Seti of Egypt – King Xerxes of Persia – King Leonidas of Sparta – Thomas Jefferson – King George III – Abraham Lincoln – Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary – Lee Harvey Oswald – Jimmy Carter

And more…

Beyonce has announced today that she is pregnant with two Donald Trump’s babies at once, with experts predicting that this may inadvertently set the tone for the entire Black History Month, which has just begun.

The 35-year-old singer was disappointed that her previous pregnancy photo on Instagram only gathered 6,831,636 likes, 17,000 tweets, and some anemic media coverage at such lame old news organizations as The New York Times, LA Times, US Weekly, Chicago Tribune, and similar media holdouts, with not a single picture or a word about her in places where it really counts – Breitbart, Fox News…

So that the Safe Space Cadets will not be unequal in their kultural wealth, I have created a new, politically-korrekt version of the (in)famous Gadsden Flag (*ptooey*). It will be raised every time there is a call to "arms" (for hugging).

I haven’t quite figured out yet what this flag should be called. The Thinskin Flag? The Hasbeen Flag? This humble Kommisar welcomes the contributions of the most equal masses for the christening dedication of this new…

Reciprocating Trump’s #MuslimBan, the CEO of Starbucks has vowed to start a campaign of discrimination against US citizens by hiring 10,000 Muslim refugees instead of the usual local applicants as baristas.

This, in turn, was immediately reciprocated by a call to #BoycottStarbucks by Trump supporters, who claim that Starbucks is an overhyped watering hole for pompous white Subaru-driving liberals in yoga pants. That is an outrageously divisive statement because it excludes unicyclists and Prius drivers, whose vehicles are equipped with three turn signals: a left turn signal, a right turn signal, and a supersized virtue signal.

There is a chart circulating the internet, showing the numbers of American citizens killed by Middle Easterners since 1975. The purpose of this chart is to persuade us that President Trump is banning people from the wrong countries.

Citizenship from these countries does not equal Muslim. But a travel ban of these countries’ citizens is a ban of all Muslims. We know that no Muslim would kill an American, because Islam is the Religion of Peace. According to this chart, Saudi Arabians are more dangerous than citizens of Iraq, Iran, Syria, Libya, Somalia, Sudan and Yemen. But we don’t really want Saudi Arabians to be banned, because it is a Muslim-majority…

After the tragic loss of life in the Quebec mosque shooting of January the 29th, it warms our hearts to witness the correct response we expect in such situations.

Major news outlets were quick to point out that the current prime suspect, a certain Mr. Buissonette, had serious mental issues and work-related traumas that may have caused him to act irrationally. To stress the "lone wolf" character of this attack, no links were made with other anti-Muslim actions or protests in the past that have no proven connection to this incident. To avoid stigmatising any demographic, prime minister Trudeau did not immediately describe this "event" as terrorism.

Calling out around the world, are you ready for a brand new protest? Trump is here and the time is right for protesting in the street!

Sister comrades, this is a call to arms (as long as they’re covered) to demand freedom and equal rights, to stand up to the illegitimate Trump/Hitler regime, to keep the rights to your body, and to fight against cultural imperialism – by wearing your instrument of resistance – the hijab!

Enclosed in your hijab, you can, in the name of women’s rights, proudly stand up and be a warrior against Trump’s War on Women. Join millions of like-minded women in smashing the patriarchy, achieving freedom from male domination and oppression, fighting for gender-justice, and checking (based on skin tone) your white privilege. It’s simple common sense: the Muslim veil is the only way to find true women’s liberation and equality.

Speaking to Harper’s Bazaar, Madonna described focusing on Trump’s image on the TV screen while casting magic spells as her agent and friend recited verses from the Quran.

"We were doing everything: lighting candles, meditating, praying, offering our lives to God, Allah, Satan, whomever – as long as they would shrink Trump into a hideous little monster and he would lose to Hillary," said Madonna.

In the end, her mystical witchcraft backfired. Trump defeated Clinton, and Madonna became a hideous little monster instead. Months later the transmogrified celebrity is still struggling to accept what has happened: "It’s like suddenly losing all my money and power, and also being stuck in a nightmare, but I repeat myself."

This feels like a pilot for an absurdist comedy, or at least a TV skit. Arrested Development comes to mind. The best part is Shia pleading "Be nice, people" and then screaming "f*king Nazis" at the top of his lungs to the people offscreen.

Turns out, they are the police and they soon take him away in handcuffs. He is quite docile at first, but as he is being led offscreen, he gets back into character and starts screaming "f*king Nazis" again.

If Shia sells the rights to this episode, that should probably cover the medical bill from the upcoming month in the rehab.?

It’s only Trump’s second full day on the job, and already he has drawn international criticism: in an executive order signed today, the new president has enrolled all members of ISIS into Obamacare, effective immediately.

Defending his decision, President Trump told reporters, "Look, I know it’s controversial, blah, blah, blah. But to me it’s genius. I’m gonna make ISIS go on Obamacare, and I’m going to make them pay for it. It’s what I campaigned on, and I’m gonna make it happen in the first 100 days."

In the U.S. Senate, Chuck Schumer rushed to a microphone. "We’re better than this…

Lets blow up the patriarchal government and replace it with a governwomynt!

Attending a Trumphitler protest?

That Guy Fawkes mask is "old hat!" (and a symbol of patriarchal oppression). Don’t be laughed at! Show your comrades just how revolutionary and equal you can be by wearing the latest thing in Protest-wear!

Madonna is more revolutionary, more nasty, more disease-ridden than that old… tired… BORING!, Guy Fawkes poseur!

But just like Guy Fawkes, she too wants to blow up the seat of government!!! Isn’t that cool?!!!

Available now at your local Protest Supplies store. Made in Pakistan. Ask about the special limited-edition with bonus vial of Madonna’s actual menstrual blood.

Iranian actress Taraneh Alidoosti has recently vowed to boycott the Academy Awards ceremony as a protest of Illegitimate President Donald Trump’s illegitimate proposal to illegitimately suspend visas for citizens of some African and Middle Eastern nations.

Alidoosti, who appears in the Oscar-nominated The Salesman, points out that foreign travelers to the United States have a right to come and go as they please without the illegitimate interference of the U.S. government. Her announcement has larger implications: we would be deprived of self-righteous tirades delivered with impeccable style by our betters.

Lawyers for Hillary Clinton today announced that they are initiating legal action against Satan for breach of contract.

They are demanding that he return the soul of Hillary Clinton who was promised the highest office in the land for her soul.

Satan’s representative, George Soros, declared that the promise was made in New York City and that she will have to settle for mayor.

Following yesterday’s Inauguration, half a million American women put on their pink "pussyhats" and marched on Washington, D.C., leaving an estimated 2.5 million starving, meowing cats in their homes completely unattended and deprived of their scheduled mandatory hugs and prolonged belly rubs.

Organized by Planned Parenthood, Council for American-Islamic Relations, the Communist Party, and other progressive movements, American women came to Donald Trump’s doorstep to express their anger, fury, indignation, and outrage over the fact that they can’t name a single right that men have and women don’t.

New lyrics – updated and improved:

That’s great it starts like an earthquake cargo snakes on aeroplane And Tammy Bruce is not afraid eye of a hurricane listen to the Dems churn World serves it’s own needs dummies serve your own needs Feeding off of faux speak grunts no strength The latter starts to clatter with fear fright down whites Why’re they on fire representing people’s gains In a government for hire and a left wing site Leftists west and dying in a hurry with the people breathing down your neck…

A Trump-hating protester set himself on fire last night outside the Trump International Hotel a few blocks from the White House in Washington, D.C. but failed to kill himself, according to reports.

The as yet unidentified 45-year-old Californian used an unidentified accelerant and a lighter in an unsuccessful attempt to flambe himself for social justice.

It was unclear if the man was insane or simply a very dedicated demonstrator. Given his disinclination to fully combust he is unlikely to have been an Eagle Scout.

A letter to all entertainers performing at Trump’s inauguration: We are the party of love. We’ve told you that over and over again, but you just don’t seem to get it, so we have no other choice but to send you this anonymous death threat. How DARE you reject our love? You JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER!!!! You forced our hand and now we must teach you that if you don’t do what we say, that means you don’t love us. And you’re supposed to love us. We are beautiful. We are kind. We are tolerant and inclusive and if you don’t agree with us, you must be silenced! We want to give ourselves to you, body and soul, BUT YOU JUST WON’T SEE IT AND GO OFF WHORING AFTER THAT BITCH!!!!!!

With just over 48 hours left of the Obama Administration, this is your last chance to remember if there is anything you might have done for which you need a pardon.

I’ll go first: My transgression and my cat’s transgression:

Years ago, Dear Leader’s glorious face graced the cover of the magazine Fast Company. I failed to frame it and put it on the wall so I could bow as I walked by. I left it on the couch… and my racist reichwing rethugiKKKan cat got sick all over the picture. Naturally, I mandated the cat to take eight weeks of diversity and sensitivity training…

President Obama awarded himself the prestigious, ‘Distinguished Public Service Medal’ on Wednesday, January 4th, 2017.

During his teary-eyed presentation speech, he referred to himself some 97 times while gloriously expounding on his many accomplishments, performances and outstanding golf games.

Through tears of joy during the acceptance speech, he referred to himself another 163 times expounding upon his many successes and how smart he is.

We breathlessly await more medals of this type to be awarded to Barack Obama.

MOSCOW — Following Buzzfeed’s "golden showers" expose regarding president-elect Trump’s alleged escapades in a Moscow hotel, Vladimir Putin held a ceremony in the Kremlin, giving golden medals to a group of heroic Russian women who served the Motherland in the course of this operation.

"Trump has been organizing beauty pageants, hanging out with beautiful women who had gone through medical examination. Why would he leave them for unvetted females with a lowered sense of social responsibility?" he said. "Unless they are highly trained and thoroughly examined operatives with a heightened sense of social responsibility and patriotism, like this group here."

Don’t miss this post-election fire sale as the Clinton Foundation closes its doors and lays off its non-unionized employees. Everything & everyone must go! br /> – All starving Third-World children are half off, barely used. – Deep discounts on African and Middle Eastern dictators. – Speaking fees now only $20,000. – No refunds on pre-election deposits. – Government influence all sold out. – Uranium deals by appointment only. – Now available in all totalitarian states.

A behind the scenes look at how Pee-Gate really happened.

We have long known that right-wing people are better looking, smarter, happier, and even have a better sex life without demanding that the government pays for their contraceptives.

No one knew how to effectively argue that fact, deny it, rationalize it, or turn it into an asset – until now. A groundbreaking scientific research has finally answered the most puzzling question of the Universe: Why would anyone in their right mind ever vote for a right-winger?

As a side effect, scientists also explained that people’s right-wing politics stem from their beauty, talent, ability, strength, and well-being, which also signals…

I raise a tin cup of glorious beet vodka (with a splash of tractor fuel) to the imaginary hookers.

Once again the mainstream media is trickling out details, one drip at a time…But I’m puzzled. People PAY to get their beds wet? I know some folks with pure talent.

This just in: The search for prostitutes who peed on Obama’s bed has been narrowed down to one suspect…

The People’s Cube entry has just been purged from Wikipedia. Congratulations, comrades. We are now officially a non-site populated by non-persons sharing non-thoughts and making non-jokes. It makes me feel right at home, back in the Soviet Union, where an invisible hand obstructed any of my efforts to manifest my existence. How liberating. No visibility means no responsibility. Out of sight, out of mind.

As a linguistic experiment, scientists once had "out of sight, out of mind" translated into Russian and then back into English. The phrase returned as "invisible lunatics." That’s who we are now. No need to think now, non-people. The Wiki-progs have turned us into invisible lunatics.

Announcing Volume 1 Number 1 of TRUMPIAN HORRORS – the new, hip, retro-pulp fiction magazine for Cis Males, Cis Men, Trans Males, …and Androgynes …who are feeling a little bit on the butch side today.

Each month (or whenever we get around to it — publishing schedules are racist), TRUMPIAN HORRORS will bring you gripping fictionalized accounts (but NOT FAKE NEWS!) of the latest sickening atrocities inflicted upon the the U.S., the world, the Universe, and beyond by The Evil TrumpHitler.

Headline story (and Trigger Warning!) in our premier issue: I WAS FORCED TO SING AT TRUMPS INAUGURATION, the true story of a poor, but talented, single-mother, 1/16th Native American, trans-questioning, Chicago civil servant whom The TrumpHitler implacably forced to compromise her sterling liberal values to croon for The TrumpHitler’s drooling delight while suffering the humiliation of the leering eyes of TrumpHitler’s Deplorables Squads (with assistance by Russian hackers).

Dear President Obama,

I would like to take the time to honestly thank you from the bottom of my heart for having a huge hand in creating the greatest age for satire that the world has ever seen. But aside from that, there is so much more to be thankful for.

I believe that I also speak for countless college-educated people when I say that during the dusk of your presidency we should take the time to list some of the amazing things you have done and to reflect upon them.

When we first saw this headline, we thought it was yet another satirical spoof about Snopes, similar to our own previous exploits: Snopes Co-Founder Embezzles $98,000, Drops Weight, Leaves Fat Wife And Marries Actual Whore

Turns out, this is a true story, fully backed by Daily Mail. But first, let’s step back a little. We’ve had a few spates with Snopes in the past. It was all fun and games when Snopes co-founder David Mikkelson first debunked our story about Rosie O’Donnell getting a tramp stamp with ISIS flag to support Islamic ‘freedom fighters’…

On Wednesday, President Obama added another prestigious medal to his Nobel Prize collection when he had Defense Secretary Ash Carter award him the Department of Defense Medal for Distinguished Public Service.

??If ?this caught you by surprise, you’re not alone. Most Americans had no idea that the Pentagon ?had such an ?award??.? Additionally, you may not be aware that several countries are ?also expected to ?invite? president ?Obama ?to medal ceremonies in appreciation of his many stellar contributions.

25 years ago George Bush Sr. was still in office, and so was Saddam Hussein. The European Union didn’t exist and neither did China’s economic powerhouse. The Berlin wall had just come down and Germany had finally reunited. Hillary Clinton was a little-known mouthy First Lady of Arkansas and the media gleefully predicted that Donald Trump would never climb back to the top after his Atlantic City fiasco.

On the other side of the Iron Curtain, the Eastern bloc was in shambles, but the USSR was still standing with Mikhail Gorbachev at the helm. The KGB meddled in other countries’ affairs as usual, spreading "fake news" and helping leftist politicians with no objections from the Western media…

The Wikipedia page about the People’s Cube may be purged in a few days and we’ll become a non-site unless we take action.

There is an ongoing Wikipedia discussion / show trial, in which you can vote for or against deleting the People’s Cube for being "unworthy" to grace the pages of Wikipedia. You can add your two kopeks to the discussion here:

Wikipedia:Articles for deletion/The People’s Cube

First the reason for deletion was "confrontational language." Then it was phony "copyright issues." Now they question our "noteworthiness." This is plain harassment and trolling.

In this New Year edition of No News – Good News we are happy to inform our readers that the following things did not occur this year:

– FBI: Santa disclosed naughty list on WikiLeaks, "Helped Trump win election"; Obama expels Rudolph, Prancer, Vixen, and 35 elves in retaliation – California builds wall to keep out Trump supporters – Bernie supporters stunned there is no socialist Santa Claus, vow to continue demanding free chocolate cookies, milk – Washington Post sues Internet for infringing on "fake news" business – Controversy in the lab: white mold excludes black mold; Harvard biologist blames "Petri dish cultures of hate" – Scientific News: Long after 1961 burial physicists uncertain Schrodinger is dead – Sexed-up Mother Russia becomes Milf Russia; Motherland renamed into Milfland on Putin’s orders…

By popular demand, we have made two versions of this design – cute and rebellious – pick whichever feels more "deplorable" to you.

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