Ben Shapiro DESTROYS Abortion Argument: 'No More Euphemisms'
On Thursday, Daily Wire Editor-in-Chief Ben Shapiro addressed the issue of abortion, which he categorized as a “blot on the morality of the American people.”
In a response to a video featuring pregnant actress Olivia Wilde proclaiming her support for abortion because she’s “literally about to have a baby,” Shapiro stripped abortion of all its euphemisms, exposing the real evil behind the fatal act the left is deceptively pushing as “choice.”
Prefacing his truth-telling, Shapiro warned: “This is going to be mildly graphic,” he said, “but it’s important, because I’m sick of euphemisms: It’s not aborting a fetus; it’s not getting rid of a ball of tissue.” As Shapiro defined later in the video, abortion is the murder of “literally the most innocent among us.”
Shapiro then displayed a photo of a third-trimester baby who was gruesomely killed by serial murderer abortion practitioner Kermit Gosnell.
“This is a less graphic picture of what an abortion looks like,” he says. “A more graphic picture of what abortion looks like involves the… crushing of the skull; the sucking out of the brains… And these are fully formed children,” he emphasized. “These are fully formed children.”
Responding to the left’s claim that murdering an unborn child is a “human right,” as Wilde explicitly states in her disturbing pro-abortion video, Shapiro explained that no one has the “right” to dehumanize a life and murder an unborn human being for their own “right” to “convenience.” He would later connect such dehumanization to the Holocaust and slavery.
“I have two beautiful children,” he continued, becoming visibly incensed. “The idea that you get to murder a kid… no one has a ‘right to choose’ this,” he added, pointing to the picture of the fully-formed murdered baby. “No one. No one. No one has a ‘right’ to choose this. That’s a baby. You don’t get to kill it just because it’s convenient to you. You don’t have a right to say, ‘It’s my decision to decide where and when and how to have the baby.’ That’s an individual human being, and if that baby were outside the womb and you stuck a knife through its chest, you’d be charged with first-degree murder. You kill it in the womb, and we call it a ‘human right.’ That’s not a ‘human right,’ because that’s a human and that human doesn’t have any rights because you just decided its rights are less important than your right to your own convenience.”
“Despicable,” Shapiro said bluntly. “Despicable.”
The conservative author then showed a graphic of baby development in the womb, asking, “Where in here exactly do you think it’s okay to murder that kid because you have a personal convenience issue?”
Shapiro threw down the gauntlet: “Okay, we’re going to play a game called, ‘When should you be able to kill this baby?’ because I’ve been told, by people like Hillary Clinton, that you’re able to kill this baby all the way up to the very end, right? 32-30 weeks, right? And that’s when the baby is fully-formed; it can be born alive.”
Again, dropping all euphemisms, which only act to cloak the true evil of murdering unborn babies, Shapiro detailed each stage of development before asking if it would be permissible to murder the child at each stage.
“How about week 15, when the baby has an adult’s taste buds?” he asked. “How about weeks nine and ten when the baby’s teeth are already beginning to form? Its fingernails are already beginning to develop. We’re talking about two months old, right? The baby can turn its head and frown. The baby can hiccup. Is that okay to kill?”
“How about day 22? The heart’s already beating with the child’s blood, which may be of a different blood type than the mother,” stated Shapiro. “So where in here exactly do you think it’s okay to murder that kid because you have a personal convenience issue?”
Continuing to illustrate the depravity of abortion and underscoring that point that legality doesn’t excuse evil, Shapiro connected the left’s current dehumanization of the unborn to the despicable dehumanization of slaves in America and the slaughter of dehumanized Jews during the Holocaust.
“This is not a matter of a ‘women’s right to choose,’” he asserted. “A slave owner didn’t get to ‘choose’ to hold slaves; Nazi didn’t get to 'decide’ which Jews got to live. And don’t give me the, 'It’s legal, therefore it’s okay.’ Lots of things were legal; lots of things in human history have been legal that were totally evil.”
He continued, “It is evil to suggest, as Hillary Clinton does, that the minute before a baby is born, you should be able to drag it by the feet out of the mother, except for the head, stick a scissors in there; ram it into the baby’s skull; rip the skull open; suck the brains out, crushing it; and then pull it out. Hillary believes that’s something you should be allowed to do.”
“This is a grave sin,” he stated succinctly. “It’s a blot on the American Republic, it’s a blot on the morality of the American people that we treat literally the most innocent among us as nothing more than a issue of convenience, and 'choice,’ and all the rest of it. No more euphemism. No more euphemisms.”
Debunking some of the pushback he’s already received for his stance, Shapiro pointed out that murdering the unborn baby before their brain waves are developed, as a pro-choicer offered, would be akin to pulling the plug on a person in a coma knowing the person would develop brain function in the matter of weeks. “Would you do that?” he asked.
“This is a grave sin. It’s a blot on the American Republic, it’s a blot on the morality of the American people that we treat literally the most innocent among us as nothing more than a issue of convenience, and 'choice,’ and all the rest of it. No more euphemism. No more euphemisms.”
Though Shapiro affirmed that the Bible is correct on this issue, he explained that the argument from pro-lifers should be rooted in science.
“I think what’s important here is the science,” he posited, “and I think you’re talking about the creation of a unique human life on day one.”
Shapiro concluded by recalling his encounter with pro-lifers at the 2012 Democratic National Convention. Shapiro said he was at first put-off by the pictures of aborted babies by the anti-abortion crowd, before thinking to himself: “That’s probably how people treated pictures of slavery back in 1850s; that’s probably how people treated pictures of the Holocaust back in the 1940s.”
“The bottom line is, if it’s that ugly, maybe you should do something about it instead of whining about how ugly it is,” he stated.
Written for the @sterekwriters Summer Bingo Tournament. For the prompt: Summer Camp
(I totally went over the word count limit with this one, oops)
When June finally arrives and, with it, the beginning of his last year at camp, Derek has no idea what to expect.
He and Stiles have been texting constantly since last summer, but neither has worked up to an actual phone call. Laura thinks it’s “cute,” Cora thinks it’s “boring,” and his mother won’t stop bringing up her own summer camp friend turned pen pal turned boyfriend from when she was Derek’s age.
“I’m not, like, writing him love letters or whatever,” Derek grouses, hunched over in the backseat of his parent’s sedan. Cora happily ignores the entire conversation from the seat across from him, in favor of whatever game on her phone she hasn’t yet beaten.
His mother glances at him in the rearview mirror. “I see. Still working up to it?”
Derek frowns and turns away to glare out the window at the passing scenery. He’s not “working up to” anything. He’s just texting. “Nobody writes letters anymore, mom.”
She hums noncommittally. “Still. Always a nice gesture.”
Gestures are not what Derek needs right now, though, barely a mile away from Camp Beacon, barely a mile away from Stiles, and uncertain where he stands.
They were reluctant bunkmates last year. Then, briefly, ardent enemies. And then, somehow, tentative friends. Mostly due to their respective friend groups all suddenly becoming besties with each other. They exchanged numbers the last day of camp, and Derek really didn’t think anything would come of it. But then Stiles texted him not forty-eight hours later to complain about his new class schedule and Derek found himself complaining right back before he realized what was happening.
Since then, neither of them have gone a day without sending something to the other. Even if it’s just a random emoji that Derek is pretty sure he doesn’t entirely get the nuances of.
baby jeon making a mess trying to make you pancakes for mothers' day and he's so focused he doesn't even notice you enter the kitchen and when you ask what he's making he says it's for noona and he doesn't even realize it's you
AND HE WOULD FREAK THE FUK OUT AFTER LIKE
“o-oh, noona… what are you doing here…?”
“here to get some water, you?”
and he’d try to hide his pancakes from you despite you already seeing them but he’ll feel better with that anyway and you let him have what he wants. then you’d help him do another batch that won’t turn out as bad as the first one and he’s proud when you smile at him like he’s done the best thing ever in the world.
how do you think i could learn french? do you know any french speaking blogs or anything like that? do you know any GOOD french movies/tv shows/songs?
There’s this tumblr called “bonjour french words”, outside tumblr: https://frenchcrazy.com and http://www.thefrenchblog.com I have a friend who uses Duolingo to learn French and apparently its a good app, but i guess it depends on your level, if you already know some French or not at all. Also check youtube you may find some teaching lesson there. I recommend to watch lots of movies (or tv shows but we don’t have any here) with subs in your mother tongue first it really helps if you concentrate on the words they’re saying and what you’re reading. Here’s a list: Blue is the warmest color - Intouchable - Polisse - Two days in Paris - Un Français - Contre Enquête - Elle - La Haine - Haute Tension - Je vais bien, ne t'en fais pas - Jeux d'enfants - Ne le dis à personne Tv shows (I don’t watch lots of french tv so i don’t know many): Kaamelott - Les Revenants - Engrenage
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Pairing: Aegon VI/Sansa Stark Rating: T Summary:The Silver King of the South offers love and promises to the North—and the Winter Queen thaws.
Mirrors: ff.net ; ao3 Nota: Best read while listening to From Gold by Novo Amor.
The silence is deafening as the two halves of two kingdoms
His implication hangs thick in the air. Marry me, and together we will right all the wrongs that have befallen
Snow falls over their heads just as the wind sings its songs
through the trees. Sansa shivers despite herself, for Targaryens have been
known for taking what they desired without objection. And oh, how Aegon wants her (and maybe an inkling of a little
bird’s ghost inside her may have wanted him to want her all along).
But in her years of learning the game, and the succeeding
years of having played it, Sansa had learned, among everything else, that love
seldom held its place alongside duty.
The Winter Queen loves her family; she loves her council,
her court, and her crown—but she finds it hard to bear within her the bane of
learning to love anyone else besides.
But King Aegon has, without a doubt, undone her, and it is
with a heavy heart that she’s kissed him among the grove of the Old Gods, and
allowed the act to plant such foolish words onto his mouth.
Sansa inches away from the Silver King to take refuge
beneath the heart tree. Wherein the face in the old weirwood would have
unsettled her otherwise, now its timeless stare only serves to instil within
her a sense of comfort and safety. At least here, sheltered beneath its knowing
arms, Sansa can attest that they’re never truly alone—her and this King from
When the Queen of the North finally finds her voice, she
draws her furs tighter around herself and chides him with such flawless
composure. “You’d best learn well from history that this is no wise move,
Aegon frowns like she knows he would.
“Why?” he asks plainly (as if it’s a question of
sums—or whether east is really where the sun rises and west is truly where it
sets). “Is it because you’re a Stark and I’m a Targaryen?”
Those pale violet eyes find hers again, and Sansa becomes
very much thankful for the distance. Otherwise they would have drawn her back
in without incident—and that is the last thing she wants to surrender to at the
She doesn’t flinch, nor does she thaw under his stare; she
believes it too gentle to be real. Life
is not a song, she reminds herself (like a prayer from lifetimes ago), though it doesn’t need to be to sing—and oh how she’d sing of him and those gentle eyes
if a Queen had not grown out from the skins of a foolish girl. “It may
very well be.”
Sansa can almost imagine it: can taste it on her lips the
same way she’s tasted it on him not only moments ago. She can almost taste love—and the prospect of singing and singing and making a home by his side.
But a Queen is made of stronger things than songs, and the
stories she used to glorify have always been half-truths, if not lesser. At the
end of the day, she could not bear to undo all that she’s done for her kingdom—all
for a King in the South where her childhood horrors cloyed in the shadows.
And so Sansa doesn’t have to force the next words out of her
mouth. They’re the truth; they’re her freedom from a game she’s outlived,
outgrown, and eventually stopped playing.
“I am already a queen; and as a daughter of the North turned
its Mother, my place is here.”
There it is again: the deafening silence.
From the look on his face, Aegon knows this is something he
wouldn’t dare spirit away with fire and blood.
Instead, he reaches out for her, all warmth and promises. She
doesn’t recoil like Alayne Stone would have urged her to do, in all her
carefulness. No: Sansa Stark closes
her eyes, the distance, and her arms around his neck as she allows the Silver
King to kiss her again.
Fire and Ice.
“But, My Queen, you must be mistaken,” the King breathes
against her. He worries her lip with such sweetness that the pulse on her wrist
flutters when he grabs hold of her hand. It’s cold to the touch and cannot find
a cause for calm—more so when he finally pulls back and looks at her,
half-hidden beneath those beautiful lashes.
“I believe your place might actually be here.” He
leads her hand’s journey to rest against his beating heart. “I can feel it.”
Her hands warm; her cheeks warm. In that moment—despite her
cold, better judgement—the Winter Queen almost thaws to a pool beneath her Southern King’s feet.
The time has come for me to get all soft and soppy on you, as this time tomorrow i’ll no doubt be in a food induced coma unable to focus on any kind of digital media.
2016 has been a kick in the teeth for pretty much everyone, yet through all the crap both online and in real life, its people here on Tumblr that have made me feel better and helped me through the tough times.
Then we’ve got the bunch of ladies that help keep it real. That post the things that truly matter in the world, and help me keep on top of news articles of social injustice. @violetsaffron73@lemonade-time@aishet-chayil. Some of the things these ladies post are hard to read, but they help to keep it real, to remind those of us that through genetics and culture, some of us have things easier than others without even trying, and those of us that applies to need to look out for those it doesn’t. They are also incredibly funny, kind, and truly beautiful people that the world deserves more of.
Okay, now onto another group, my Supernatural girls. @feelmyroarrrr@kittenofdoomage@jackburtonsays. I would have said my Dean girls, but damn his little brother can’t be forgotten, so the little Winchester posse help spice things up in my Tumblr world.
Special thanks to;
@inkededucatednnerdy for tagging me in a million meme’s and helping me wake up in the morning thanks to the time difference.
@shieldagent1 For giving the world more Thor fanart than we know what to do with, and sharing a mutual appreication of Chris Hemsworths fantastic glutes.
@poe-also-bucky For sharing my obsession with Bucky’s peachy buttocks, and spamming my dash with more Oscar Issac than i know what to do with.
@slaughterme-barnes For taking the time to message me with her fantastic Bucky and Steve manips just as i go to sleep and therefore the creep into my brain (Though the last time she did it i ended up having a sex dream about Stephen Colbert so not sure what happened there…)
To the two ladies that are always there to bounce story idea off of and that have been therefor me a lot more than i have for them, in no particular order other than alphabetical: @eve1978@prplprincez You two rock my world.
So now that the holy day of celebrating the birth of a dude who’s mother didn’t tell his father that she’d been fooling around and got knocked up whilst pretending she was still hymenly challenged that actually should be in october but thanks to some major calendar changes by the romans we celebrate 2 months late, we are faced with the one question that is important in these troubling times;
“Wanda, and Natasha what part of ‘I
want to relax by myself’ did you not understand?” You asked tapping your foot
impatiently at the two ladies standing in your doorway. “The by yourself part,”
Nat said sarcastically, you raised an eyebrow at her, and huffed, blowing a
loose piece of hair out of you line of sight. You looked between the two,
knowing full well they were not leaving until you were dressed and ready to go
to the mall with them. “I’m supposed to be low key observing the preparations
of Tony’s party,” you stated to the two, coining through your clothes, trying
to find a casual shirt. Nat laughed, and patted your shoulder, “Gosh, you worry
to much mom, no wonder Tony calls you mom.” You snorted, “You all call me mom,”
you pointed out, Wanda laughed, and handed you your purse, and ushered you out
of the door.
“Natasha, I’m showing enough cleavage
to attract a enfant,” you huffed, looking in the mirror. Natasha had picked out
a beautiful purple low cut dress that was backless, and is fell to your mid
calf. It looked like something you would have wore to a high school party.
Natasha was standing next to you, “You’re fretting over nothing, you look
great, maybe you’ll finally get some in that thing.” You gave her a deadpan
look, and fussed with the top. “Yeah, how long is since you’ve had any action?”
Wanda chirped. You scoffed, “I don’t have time to get any, watching over you
people.” You raised an eyebrow, Nat smirked. “You love looking after us, or
else you wouldn’t have stuck around for 3 years,” Nat stated, and Wanda smiled
brightly. You sighed, it was true, you did love looking after them, they were
like your children, all you cared about most days was making sure they were
safe and sound. It surprised you that you had been around for 3 years, being
the displeasure Steve and Tony held for you at first. But they quickly grew to
love you like they’re own mother even though you were young enough to be Tony’s
daughter. “I can’t believe it’s been three years already,” you said softly,
looking at the two girls who were smiling brightly at you. “So are you gonna
get, it would be great for the party!” Wanda gushed, you looked at her. “I’m
not going, its my first day off in three years. I want to relax. When we’re
done here, I’m going home and speaking with Fury briefly and then watching Netflix
all night.” Natasha and Wanda both pouted, “But, you need to go! It’ll be no
fun with out you Y/n,” Wanda whined. You shook your head at the two, but their
faces made you reconsider. “Fine…” they cheered.
“Tony’s party is tonight,” you
said to Fury, he nodded. You looked down at the young boy in front of you. He
was being woken up after a year being in a coma. He was going to be so
confused. His body believed it was dead, as did his brain. You walked around
the table, you touched his hand. It twitched, you had only met him briefly a
year ago when Tony and Steve brought them home because the Ultron fiasco. But
he had ‘died’ in battle. But thanks to Clint taking him to the Heli-carrier, Fury
was able to pull some strings and possibly save the kids life. He called you to
come and see him when he was finally woken up, “Why me, and not Wanda, she is
his sister,” you looked at Fury as people rushed around the boy. “Because she
believes he’s dead, and if this didn’t work, we would have built up her hopes
for nothing.” You nodded, “I understand, is this why this was kept secret?”
Fury nodded, “I didn’t need you knowing, and her reading your mind, it could have
caused the whole this to go astray.” Finally, he was stable and they restarted
his heart, it took a few tries’, but it worked. His eyes opened and he seem
confused, you walked forward, “Pietro, Pietro darling, its me Y/n, you met me
before,” you nodded slowly walking into view. He nodded and looked around, “Yeah,
like a couple days ago,” You sighed, and sat next to him, you took his hand. “Pietro
dear, you were dead for a few hours, Ultron fired killed you while you were
protecting Clint and a little boy,” he shook his head, not believing you, you
didn’t blame him. “Pietro dear, calm down please,” you said, his heart was
racing and you had feeling he was trying to find the fastest way out. “Stop
calling me dear!” He barked, you tilted your head at him, and kept calm. “Pietro
calm down!” You said with authority, he sat back down.
After explaining everything in
great detail, he finally believed you and was still highly confused. “So my
sister believes I’m dead?” You nodded, his accent was so thick when he was
upset it made it almost impossible to know for sure what he was saying. “Stark
is holding a celebration party for me tonight,” Fury gasped, “How did you?” “A
mother knows,” you tapped your temple and wicked at Pietro, who gave you a
questioning look. “You’ll learn soon enough my child,” Fury chuckled, you
excused yourself to go get ready. “What does she mean?” Pietro asked Fury, who
smiled after you. “She’s your residential mom.” That was all he said on the
Thankfully Bruce and Thor were
the ones to come and retrieve you for the party, because if Wanda would have,
she would have found out about Pietro. But you did your best at keeping your
mind blank. “My Lady, what’s the matter?” Thor asked politely, you had your
hand resting on his forearm, Bruce walked quietly behind. Both dressed up very
nicely, “Nothing Thor darling, parties make me anxious, that’s all.” Bruce walked
next to you now, “I feel you.” He was so soft spoken, you looked at him, “I know
Bruce honey, but it’ll be fun.” He nodded, you all made it to the party room,
and Thor and Bruce opened the double doors, revealing the large amount of
people standing, forming a path way to the stage set up “And let’s give a warm
welcome to lady of the hour! Y/n!” Tony said cheerfully. Tony, Steve, Bucky,
Nat, Clint, Wanda, Sam, Rhodey, and Vision all stood waiting for you. Thor and
Bruce lead you up the hallway of people and up on to the stage. Tony wrapped
his arm around you and held his mic to his lips. ‘Everyone, lets give a big
warm welcome to Y/n, our PR manager. Better known as Mom,” You blushed, as
everyone in the room clapped and cheered. Steve brought you over to a chair, “Ma’am,”
you sat and he smiled at you. Through the next hour or so the group of superhero’s
thanked you for your service as they’re PR manger. Fury even said a few kind
They had moved you too tears with
their kindness; you took the mic from Tony. “Fist of all, I would like to say
thank you for this wonderful celebration Tony, it’s beautiful. Next I would
like to say thank you for all your kind words, and I’m very glad to be part of
your crazy life.” The crowd chuckled, you looked across the sea of people and
caught Fury’s eye, he nodded and went to the door. “But I also have a surprise
for you all.” The crowd quieted, the team looked between one another. Wanda was
staring hard at you, trying to read your mind. “I would like to welcome my guest
of honor. Pietro Maximoff!” You called into the mic, a spot light lit up the
door and the crowd parted, allowing Pietro walk up to the stage. He waved up at
you, you smiled. A loud sob filled the air, and Wanda dropped to the floor, she
was in tears. Pietro was to her side in seconds, he was comforting her. Tony
took the mic and told the guests to go back to the celebration while he spoke
to the team and you. “You’re kidding me ma?” Tony looked at you, you shook your
head no, he looked to Fury, who just shrugged. Wanda was beside herself at this
point, she could stop crying. “Wanda sweetness, it’d okay. It’s really him!”
You cooed, rubbing her shoulder as she sobbed loudly.
Once Wanda calmed down, the party
continued on as normal, and you mingled with the guests. Steve tapped your shoulder,
and interrupted your conversation with Clint, “Would you like to dance?” You
nodded at Steve. A soft song played and you danced with Steve, it was lovely.
Until a loud boom and another explosion filled the room, people started screaming.
Another boom and glass shattered everywhere pepping your bear arms. A bomb of
some sort flew toward you and Steve, Clint tossed the shield and Steve
protected you. Tony called for his suit and stood in front of you, “Run mom,
and hide! Don’t come out until I come and get you.” You did as you were told
and ran out of the room with Hill, protecting you. You looked back for a moment
and watched the team fight off whatever it was, and they disappeared.
bby princess clarke overhearing people talking about arranged marriages and she ask her parents about it. they reassure her that marriage is being with someone you love forever. clarke's eyes widen in comprehension and she dash off to grab a very confused lexa back and firmly announce that she is going to marry lexa. she even got the king to write an "official" proclamation with her and lexa's little handprints on it. a still confused lexa just goes along with it because well, it's clarke.
the day she is born, she already has a best friend anxious to meet her. her best friend wants to meet her so bad she crawls out of her bed at past midnight and sneaks into her mother’s bedchambers, eyes wide and curious and green. without knowing it, her best friend starts a lifelong tradition of always being the first to show up to a meeting with her.
See, there’s a big problem with the theory that Pearl was the one behind Pink Diamond being shattered. It’s not that the idea isn’t plausible- it is. But that’s not the point.
The whole buildup to this discovery, and the arc hinted at to follow, revolves around Steven’s discovery that his mom WASN’T PERFECT. She wasn’t this incredible sparkly goddess that reached down and saved the Crystal Gems from the tyranny of homeworld. She was a real, living Gem, who made mistakes, made bad decisions, and yes, did terrible things.
Steven’s been living in her shadow in a BIG way his whole life, and the shock of this revelation is the first step to stepping away and becoming his own person with his own legacy. It’s like Bismuth said: he can be better than her.
But what if she didn’t do it? What if she was, in fact, nobly protecting Pearl? Well, let me tell you: that would ruin three- count ‘em- THREE great character arcs.
First: the growth and maturing of Steven by realizing that he can do better than Rose by not repeating her mistakes. That’ll never happen if she didn’t make any mistakes. Bismuth was just the first stage of this, and it’s clear that the writers want Steven to get the opportunity.
Second: the “humanization” of Rose. This is so important, because from day one, the entire show has had a dynamic, all-important character motivating everyone’s actions: Rose. Her journey from alien soldier to self-sacrificing mother didn’t just happen, and she needs a catalyst and flaws just as much as any other character.
Third: Speaking of flaws, here we have Pearl. She’s been the main focus pretty recently, and has been fleshed out with so many flaws and quirks that she has learned to turn into strengths. Her journey of self-realization is already on its way. She’s BEEN broken down, she’s already been seen at her lowest, most vulnerable point. If the secret of Pink Diamond revolves around her, we’ll be right back where we started with Pearl. She doesn’t need another flaw, another redemption arc.
With my mother chipping in here last plane ticket for me and my dad just getting out of the hospital I’m on my own raising my last $1,800. Literally if everyone of my followers chipped in a dollar and twelve cents I’d be able to march this summer.
Being apart of a world class organization is my entire life and with 21 days to turn in my dues it’s already too late to find a job. Now I’m relying on fundraisers and your donations.
I’ve never been a person to ask for so much but now I need your support.
Thanks, DCI Tumblr.
AU where Nezumi is a horologist/clockmaker. Shion, after hearing that he is one of the best, brings in his mother’s old grandfather clock for repairs. Nezumi inspects the damage and says that it will probably take about a month to finish. Shion looks disappointed but quickly covers it up with a sad smile. Shion says that he’ll leave the job to him and that he has to leave now for an appointment but he’ll be returning around three days later to check in on his progress.
The next time that Shion steps inside the shop, Nezumi asks him if he’s in a hurry of something. Shion is silent for a few seconds. He replies that his mother loves the clock so much and looked so distraught when it stopped working that he couldn’t stand it. “It’ll be a gift from me to her, so I thought that it will be better if I had it… cleaned up a bit as well.” he says. “Yeah, the wood looks worn out, and there are chips here and there… It’s pretty old, huh.” Nezumi says. “Yeah… pretty old… probably lived out its life already…” Nezumi looks at Shion strangely after the words left the white haired boy’s mouth.
Shion comes to the shop almost every day now. Nezumi tries his best to hide it, but he actually looks forward to the man’s little visits. Shion brings some of his mother’s homemade sweets. They talk and laugh. Nezumi fell before he knows it. He hopes that Shion did as well.
It has been a month, and just like what Nezumi said, the clock is fixed and now looks even more beautiful than before. Shion hands him the payment, but Nezumi refuses. “But I’ve got to pay you for your excellent service!” Nezumi just shakes his head and points at his chest, at his heart. “You’ve paid me enough.” He says with a small smirk. Shion doesn’t get it and says, “No… I haven’t?”. Nezumi sighs. After those weeks together, he learned that Shion is a natural-born airhead. “I’ll… well… You can pay me tomorrow, alright?” Nezumi asks. The confused look on Shion’s face is replaced by something that Nezumi cannot understand. “I… It’s better if I pay you today.” Shion replies. He does not look at Nezumi when he says, “I can’t promise you tomorrow.” This time, it’s Nezumi who doesn’t get it. “Well, I’ll be waiting, okay?” Nezumi doesn’t get to hear Shion’s reply, for the boy has already bolted out the door.
Nezumi waits. And waits. And waits. It has been two weeks and Shion has not dropped by even once. He is considering going to his house (he has his address. For… business purposes…) and has already stood up from his seat when the door opens and a lady goes in.
“…Are you… Nezumi?” the woman’s voice is no more than a whisper. Nezumi walks over to her as he replies with a ‘yes’. “…You did a great job on the grandfather clock… if you still remember that, I mean.” Ah! Maybe she’s Shion’s mom? He smiles and says his thanks. He asks her about Shion. She looks down at the floor. She just hands him a piece of paper before she turns to leave. Her hand is already on the door knob when she says, “His favorite flowers are Asters.” She leaves. There is a date and a place written on the paper, and Nezumi almost breaks a nearby clock.
Nezumi brings him Aster flowers today. “…Is this how you’re going to pay me, Shion?” He does not wait for an answer. He is not silly. He knows that he can’t hear him. He knows that the dead won’t come back. He knows, but he wishes that he is wrong.
His shop is closed today. It was also closed yesterday. Maybe it’ll be closed tomorrow as well. There are no more tick-tocks to be heard, he has broken all of the clocks that he has. Their hands no longer move. Nezumi wishes that he didn’t as well.
Hepburn Hummel-Gilbert and Tracy (Cohen-Chang-Evans) Anderson play little league soccer together. That’s the start of everything. [Klaine. Rival soccer mom!AU]
PTO is Parent-Teacher Organization. Blame Orphan Black for this!
Kurt Hummel is late.
It starts, of course, with a phone-call from his ex-husband (“Hey, we’re touring in Jersey next month, do you think I can take Hepburn on the tour bus for a while?” “He is eleven absolutely not”) and ends with screaming, and slightly scorched blueberry scones. And Kurt is late, late to his son’s soccer practice, for which he was supposed to bring snacks.
That are now only a little burnt, but it’s Elliot’s fault, not his.
He speeds to New Rochelle Middle School, and tries to think about how to tell his son that he can’t go with his dad for a couple of weeks on the tour bus, how that’s just not a safe environment for a growing young boy. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Elliot to be safe with their son, it’s just that Kurt knows Elliot has to sleep, eventually, and who knows what Elliot’s bandmates get into on that bus.
Kurt knows what they get into on that bus. Kurt used to into a lot of trouble on that bus, there is no way in hell he’s letting his fragile baby boy in that environment.
So he’s already on edge, a little, and when he pulls up to the middle school he sees fifteen little boys with cupcakes in hand and blue icing on their faces.
It’s his turn to bring snacks for today’s practice. He knows its his day because he marked it on his calender, make snacks for Hepburn’s practice @ 4, and yet here the New Rochelle Tigers Cubs are, already supplied with snacks.
Which makes his slightly scorched blueberry scones now worthless.
Helena stops by the firehouse to pick up Myka’s remaining things—she has so few things of her own at this point, and Helena would like to have at least these few belongings at home in the apartment, so that Myka might have a vague sense of its truly being home, of belonging, of actually having belongings.
A cornered part of Helena had wished, after Christina’s death, for a fire, one that would sweep away everything, and if it did not kill Helena—and most days, she hoped for that—it would at least remove every reminder at once, every bit of before. There would be no toys, no books, no chess, no chair… not even the clothes Helena had worn when she was Christina’s mother. The skin of before would burn away.
What would have taken its place, however, she has no idea. And she suspects that Myka has no idea what will take the place of her own skin of before. Helena wants to say, here, take mine…