what have we gained


your regular reminder: Chalo and Priya are absolutely stunning.

Made of Skin and Bones

Originally posted by theseromaniansarecrazy

(not my gifs!)

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Language, A/B/O dynamics, sickness

Summary: Due to the premature death of the King of your clan, his son, the alpha James Barnes, must assume his destiny and lead his people. As the tradition commands, he must choose some worthy omegas to make their his wives and with which he will ensure the subsistence of your clan. All the omega women are obliged to appear before their king, including you. Luckily for you, you would never be chosen… right?

Tags: at the end. ARE NOW CLOSED (sorry guys) I wrote them again one by one I really hope this time they work

A/N: I’d tried to post sooner but it was impossible, I’ll try and do my best for the next chapter :) Thank you for your patience  ❤

Previously: (Masterlist)

10. What we have been

- James! - you call his name trying to gain his atenttion - Look at me, come on - his eyes are following invisible figures in the sky, he doesn’t even seem to  know that you are next to him.

You run to the lake and strip another piece of clothe, soaking it you nearly trip over your own feet when you turn back to his side. Kneeled next to him you place the wet fabric on his forehead and then he blinks a couple times.

- Hey, Bucky? - you try again. He then turns his head towards you, his eyes full of bewilderment, you smile softly at him - Stay with me, okay? - he nods slowly 

You lick your dry lips ignoring the fast beats of your heart with just one goal in mind, save James. Trembling you check the open injury and caress his forehead, now full of sweat, for God’s sake… he’s suffering.

- Hey, hey - you try to catch his atenttion - Look at me Bucky - you open his shirt and, with difficulty, you move his big torso to take it off of him, you need to see since where the infection has spread

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okay let’s make this clear: elizabeth swann didn’t do shit for will in potc3. first, she was there to save jack and then she was there to avenge her father’s death. will wasn’t her motivation, she didn’t become pirate king to save him, she didn’t trade jack with will thinking of some past offence done to will. she was there to fight a war against the man WHO KILLED HER OWN FATHER. she was there to fight for freedom and for piracy. those are things that literally happened. saying that all elizabeth ever wanted was to be with will is just plain ridiculous seeing how they spent the entirety of potc3 with other priorities and hiding shit from each other. and that trend didn’t even start in awe, mind you.

hell if you want to bring dmc into this, let’s have it. the entirety of that movie is ABOUT their desires and being a good man vs a pirate. that movie represents a huge step for elizabeth in terms of character development and she spent the majority of the time away from will.

so what are we left with? cotbp? sure, elizabeth started it out looking for will, trying to save will, but as her character development progressed, she found out she was a pirate, then a pirate lord and finally a pirate king and all those titles happened FAR AWAY from will.


So that exchange in episode 2 was definitely code. They were making sure that the other was really who they thought they were. It really adds an entirely new layer to the new princesses’ reaction to seeing Ange again after all this time. She’s shocked at first but quickly catches herself. The 2 are just so good at hiding their emotions that it makes scenes like the one in episode 2 so fascinating. They were both kind of cheated out of life and had to forge their own new way in the world, becoming things that neither of them ever dreamed of being. In such a situation it’s hard to believe that either of them are totally ok with it, they both suffered greatly and crawled their way back up from something that could only be described as a very unfortunate and tragic coincidence. They don’t blame each other though, at least not with what we have seen. They have grown up and gained their own new outlooks on life. They’re slowly trying to repair their broken relationship and lead a revolution at the same time. They’re trying so hard and ever so slowly we’re seeing the cracks in both of their facades.  

Okay so I’ve had this Homestuck/Hiveswap thought that I’ve really wanted to say even if it doesn’t get that far (but I kinda really hope it does)

*Deep breath* Okay here goes

We all know there’s been this Dammek discourse over whether he’s a good moirail, I’ve seen people go “Hey he’s a real shitty moirail” and others go “It’s Alternia, what did you expect?”

I can’t find it right now, but I saw a post that said something to the effect of “The way Alternia is has ruined people’s chances at having a healthy relationship” and while I can see where it’s coming from, I kinda don’t agree?

In my opinion, when we’re discussing moirailegiance and flushed relationships, we should look at it closer to how we would an Earth relationship/friendship (but obviously, not the exact same)

It’s as simple as not treating the ones you care about like shit. Don’t treat them how and Indigo would usually treat a bronze, don’t insult them with the intent to lower their self esteem, don’t treat them how you might treat a potential threat/someone you don’t know, just don’t do it.

Equius didn’t have cameras in Nepeta’s hive, he didn’t monopolize her time,

He kept her from playing a deadly game with dangerous people, etc.

Moirails look out for each other and take care of each others emotional well being. Not make each other sleep on the floor for a week with no explanation

Karkat obviously had flushed feelings for Terezi at some point, he tried to cheer her up when she was upset, and tried to help her out of her slump when her relationship with Gamzee turned unhealthy. Had Terezi returned Karkat’s feelings it would have been a healthy relationship.

I feel like I’m veering a little off track here, so I’ll get back to the point

I know we haven’t even met the guy yet, which is why I’m trying not to pass too much judgement on him until we can gain some insight as to what may have caused Dammek to be like this, or if he was just born like this. But for now, I think Dammek is a pretty shitty moirail and needs to take a step back and chill

Those are my thoughts. I’d be interested in hearing what anyone thinks, I’m always open to new ideas and perspectives.

Finn Balor - Prompt #2

Prompt: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Requested: by @ambrosegirlforever
Warnings: Body issue
Words: 1400+
y/d/n: your daughter’s name

“You nervous?” your husband Finn asked as you pulled up to the arena for Monday night Raw. You were returning to in-ring competition after nearly 3 years. You fell pregnant just before your wedding to Finn when you were at the height of your career. WWE kept you while you were pregnant getting you to be an ambassador and a commentator on NXT and 205. After you had y/d/n, you had 6 months off tv before you took over Talking Smack, Raw Talk and Pay-per-view kick off shows. 

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“In life, one day is for you and the other is against you.” -Imam Ali (a)

If these days have been against you, find your heart. Find what state it is in. Find what saddens your heart and what brings it joy. Know the fuel of your happiness and sorrow. For if your happiness is reliant on something that is temporary, sadness will soon follow. But if it is reliant on something permanent, sorrow will be a gift and not a burden. I knew a woman, who placed her trust in God and never knew of anything else. She had patience through struggle, she had wealth in poverty, she had courage when others deemed to be afraid. This woman, who surrendered herself to her Lord in times of ease and hardship, witnessed the murder of her brothers, her family, and yet still uttered the words, “O’ Lord, take until you are satisfied.” And yes, let us be like her. For when sorrow does honor us with its presence, we too can tell Allah (swt), “take until you are satisfied.” Surely sorrow may ridicule our joy, but there are more lessons to be learned in times of loss than gain. Because what we have lost, was never ours to attain.

السلام عليك يا زينب الكبرى

Gem Resources and a Brave New World

Warning: long theory post ahead

I have this theory that Homeworld isn’t actually lacking for resources, but they purposefully make lower quality gems as a way to keep their population docile and out of revolution. Gems are told they are not made to the standard of prerevolutionary gems, and that it’s the revolution’s fault. We know status is everything to Homeworld gems. So by depriving gems of their status and telling them it’s the revolution’s fault, the Diamonds can be sure the gems will hate and resent the very idea of revolting again the Diamonds.

Ok so how did I get here?

Peridot was told that dwindling resources are the reason she has no powers. Peridot is only her brain and her knowledge, nothing else. She is physically weak and has to rely on on Homeworld tech just to function. What other newly made gems have we met? The Rubies. We’ve gained the impression that rubies are not smart gems, they’re soldiers, and frankly, their lack of wit is used as comic relief. But when you look at our Ruby, and Eyeball, another pre-revolution Ruby, they aren’t dumb! They’re not smart like Peridot or Pearl, but they are way more conscious and self-actualized than the other Rubies. So for a Ruby, “dwindling resources” means no smarts. The band of new Rubies we met lack the critical thought to understand why they’re fighting, but they fight because that is their purpose. Because Rubies are foot soldiers, and don’t need to be anything else.

All this got me thinking about a Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. In this book, we are introduced to a perfect utopia – aka totally terrifying and creepy Dystopia. Like the gems, humans in the book are created, not born. Status is determined before humans are born, by manipulating them in utero. Alpha status humans are tall, beautiful and intelligent, and get to enjoy all the wonderful things in life. They spend their lives lounging around, going to parties and having orgies. Similar to how Bismuth described that the spires she built were for important philosophers to think in. It seems that high status gems don’t need to work, they have nobel jobs like philosopher, or Sapphire, the fortune telling princess. Betas, Gammas, Deltas, and Epsilons in the book, have less and less from the moment they’re born. With each class, humans are further disabled, and given jobs and lives that fit their abilities. An Epsilon has hardly any higher functioning, and operates an elevator for their entire life. They will be content there because they are mentally incapable of doing more or imagining more. This is how you keep people happy. Each person is a cog that fits perfectly in the machine and the whole world runs smoothly. Except of course, that isn’t the case. Like Homeworld, it is a perfectly oiled machine without any love or emotion. Without chaos, you lack passion. The world is sad and monochrome. Similarly, from what we’ve heard from Peridot, she only started living when she came to earth. Nobody lived on Homeworld. You had your place and that was your entire purpose. Gems are not made extraneously, they are made to serve. Anyways, It’s a really fucked up book, but also a very important one.

SO, how do you keep a gem out of revolution? You take away theyre ability to do so. Bismuth showed us that the foundation of Rose’s philosophy was that you can be what you want to be. Bismuth could make swords and Pearl could swordfight. Beautiful. The Diamond’s prevent the gems from coming up with these revolutionary ideas by disabling them. A Ruby will not be upset with being a foot soldier if she doesn’t have the cognition to form the thought. A Peridot will not be upset by only being a Kindergardener if she lacks the strength or powers to do anything else. And to top it all off, it isn’t the Diamonds fault that gems are one dimensional. By saying the revolution was the cause of no resources, every gem who wishes they were stronger or smarter or capable of more, has the revolution to blame. Not their evil overlords. It’s genius.

end rant.

Don’t RB: To My Followers, On An Anniversary

Today is the anniversary of the Pulse shooting, and I know a lot of you are going to spend the day scrolling through your dashes, reminded of it over and over, and some of you will get caught up in the idea that you will never be safe, that someone will always want you dead for who you are, and the oppressing weight of that will sit on you like a boulder.

Remembering the dead, and what they died for, is important and essential.

But as your Old Grumpy Lesbian, I am here to tell you some other things, that I want you to keep in mind, before you spend too much time dwelling in this fear. The world is a better place to be and of the acronym than it was ten years ago. Many of you are young enough you don’t really remember that. There’s no fault in that.

Ten years ago I was twenty years old, and I had no hope of ever being married. A state I never desired to live in might pass it, one day, but the country? Unthinkable. Impossible. The idea of walking down the aisle to be legally married in the place that I have always called my heart and my home was unthinkable.

Anyway, I’ve been legally married under the laws of the state of Montana for three years.

Ten years ago, gay characters were to the side, when they were allowed to exist at all, outside of subtext, intertwined fingers and declarations of enduring friendship, that left so many of us feeling ashamed. Why could we not just be friends with girls we loved? Why did it we have to make it that way? Ten years ago, the first positive depiction of lesbian couple on TV ended with a gunshot, and though the universe made copious and annoying use of resurrection, strangely it never came to Tara. One of three characters only.

Now there are lesbians on children’s TV, kissing softly under one another’s hair. 2 gay men are part of the main cast of a boring sitcom that appeals to mass America. An out lesbian is the face of the Game of the Year. The bar for representation is growing ever higher, and some of the discourse that crosses my dash makes me chuckle, for all the dreams we never even though to have, ten years ago.

Ten years ago, hate crimes weren’t even called that, half the time, they were mostly called ‘an incident’ and everyone swept them under the rug. Ten years ago, I could not have told you what my risk was, of being hurt. Who reported it? Who studied it? Who could ever know.

Now long studies are published on such matters, the reports calling things as they are, for once putting a name to what we always knew was true. Enough studies have been done that I can tell my DFAB followers the truth: Your risk of violence for your identity is nearly nil. I know the reporting is irresponsible, I know the New York Times puts things in your face like “LGBT people most likely group to endure hate crimes” without mentioning to you that hate crimes have fallen overall in the last ten years, even with more consistent reporting. I know if it bleeds, it leads, and there is no profit in telling you that there is ever more rapid acceptance of you, that you are unlikely to ever be hurt for what you are, that this last gasp of fear and hatred will not dominate anyone.

Ten years ago, Pride was a protest, and now it’s a party, and everyone wants to come.

There’s a tendency, I think, on here, to believe that if we are not suffering, we are not enough of our identity. If we cannot point to our own oppression, how can we truly have the experience? There’s no points in being happy, is there, Doc?

There are all the points in being happy. To be happy, to be content, and to be a member of the community—that’s fighting back against fear. I wake up every morning in my bed in my impossible marriage next to my impossible wife, and play my impossible video game with its impossible lead, and go to my impossible job where I outed myself at my interview, because I wanted to live honestly. All of these things are true. My miseries are human miseries, my babies, and I live a normal, happy, domestic life.

I will not tell you that everything will be easy, and looking ten years from now, I’m sure the world will be yet different. But I am here to tell you: Don’t be afraid. Fight. Laugh. Live your life. Remember what we have lost, but also remember what we have gained, and don’t let despair keep you from being the rainbow that we are all meant to be. We throw glitter on sorrow, and make it our own.

We have a thing we say, when someone dies, in Judaism: May their memory be a blessing, and I believe in that. 

Don’t let their memories trap you. Let them bless you. Let them free you.

I believe in you, and I believe in the world, and I believe in what you can do for it. 

Forever at Odds: Part 2~Forever out of Place

So after some encouragement from @wherethereissmoak and @tdgal1 I’ve chosen to take the weekly Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon prompts and, use them to continue this fic. It should be fun challenge so thanks again to @thebookjumper for organizing this weekly event! 

So here’s my entry for this week’s prompt Out of place! 

Read it here or on AO3

Part 2~ Forever out of place

“I can’t believe you sold me like a common whore,” Felicity roared as the doors behind her slammed darkly.

Her mother’s ice cold eyes sneered at her daughter’s chosen defiance. She crossed the room and, reached for the only book Felicity had ever bothered to read more than once from cover to cover. The aged leather binding cracked beneath her mother’s skillful hands. “We have a job to do or have you forgotten the vow you took when you turned eighteen?” her mother warned almost somberly as she threw the book towards the center of the oval shaped room. The red and, black curtains whipped about the walls while the elder witch used the still air of the stale room to create a funnel at the base of the dome shaped ceiling. 

Felicity watched unimpressed while her mother swept her hands wildly until the funnel cloud began to take it’s cylindrical shape. The book remained frozen at the center of the cyclone hovering innocently while a foolish woman used her gifts to throw a tantrum.

“If you think I’m going to be scared into agreeing you’ve forgotten I’m next in line,” Felicity snarled as her own fingers flew towards the raging storm.

Her mother’s eyes darkened, “Yes next…” she growled before she forced the invented storm to rage outwards towards her daughter’s waiting form.

Felicity blocked the deadly lightning strike with a flick of her beautiful blue eyes. Donna’s lips fell in shock when Felicity then raised her outstretched palms and cried darkly towards the turbulence above their hands, “ENOUGH!” The roaring thunder and drizzling rain vanished. The dark hardwood boards of the ceiling returned to view as the elder blonde stood before her daughter flummoxed.

“How?” she mouthed a bit proudly.

Felicity tilted her head towards her outstretched hand, the hovering book flew towards her waiting fingers. Her satisfied smile grew when she innocently replied, “Some books I didn’t need to read more than once…”

Donna’s frozen eyes began beaming with un-caged pride. “You do understand what we have to gain don’t you? You’ll be apart of history if I succeed.”

Felicity shrugged while she calmly flipped through the aged pages of a book that had been around since the first union between a vampire and, a witch was ever used as a tactic to protect human life. “You and I are the last of the original bloodline mother. We’re the only ones who remember the original pact that the Queen’s made when they first ventured towards our sleepy little hamlet. I’m also the only one that knows you’ve secretly been killing off the other clans for hundreds of years.”

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anonymous asked:

How about a Joyce and Hopper fight that mirrors the Hopper and El fight from season two.

The joints in Joyce’s hands were screaming with pain and stiffness when she pried them off of the steering wheel she had been white-knuckling. She took a deep shuddering breath as she put the car in park and killed in the engine. 

“You did it. It’s over,” she whispered, resting her forehead against the steering wheel as she wept. The platinum bob wig she was wearing became overbearingly itchy, so she tore it off and threw it onto the passenger side seat of her pinto. Her tears were mixing with the glue of her false eyelashes, making her eyes sting and her vision blur, so she pulled the spider-like extensions from her eyelids and stuck them onto the dashboard. 

After about three minutes of regaining her composure, she looked up through the window, towards her front porch. A hulking shadow of a figure stood staring out into the darkness, heavy feature illuminated when they lit a cigarette. Joyce’s heart stuck in her throat at the sight. Still, she had to get out of the car eventually, and she was so very tired. 

She pushed the driver’s side door of her Pinto open and stepped out into the October cold. Her thin jacket was hardly any protection against the air as she shivered upon approach. Beneath the jacket, she was wearing a skimpy, shimmery silver dress that fell mid-thigh to reveal long legs clad in black thigh-high stockings. She wobbled up the driveway in stilettos. 

“Are we going to talk about this?” Jim Hopper demanded, his tone quiet and dangerous - a low rumble that was sure to give way to thunder. Joyce walked past him and into their empty house.

“You can make the phone calls to get the kids out of hiding,” she intoned flatly, on her way to the bathroom. 

“Do. Not. Walk. Away. From. Me.” Hopper caught up to her and blocked the bathroom, his eyes blue fire and his face a mask of rage.

“I need to take a bath!” Joyce shouted, holding up her trembling hands. They were covered in blood, and in the revealing light of the house, the blood stains on her dress were visible as well. 

Hopper’s features softened at the sight of blood, his hands coming up to cup her face, his eyes searching for sign of injury. “Joyce…”

Joyce reared back and slapped away his hands. “It’s all his! Let me get by now.”

“I told you to let me handle this. I told you not to go after him.” Hopper closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you done?”

“He’s not a problem anymore. That’s what I did. I acted.” Joyce took the opportunity to push past him, open the door to the bathroom and step inside. She didn’t shut the door before she pulled the dress over her head and tossed it to the floor, revealing a red-lace push-up bra and high-cut panties that matched. She sat on the toilet to unsnap the suspenders of her garter belt, and she could feel the heat of his stare. 

“Are you kidding me with this, Joyce? What did you do?”

Joyce snapped her head up to meet his eyes. “No one recognized me. They can’t trace it back at all. When someone that looks like me comes walking through a Ritzy place like that, people tend to look the other way, because it’s none of their business - they don’t want it to be their business. It’s all too tawdry.”

She gave a violent start when Hopper punched the bathroom wall. He didn’t leave a hole in it, but when he pulled away, his knuckles were bleeding and raw, and there was a definite dent in the plaster. The tendons veins on his neck strained as he breathed through his nose, his face nearly scarlet as he stared at the dent. 

“Real mature,” she muttered, rolling the stockings down her legs. His head jerked towards her, his expression unchanged from the mask of rage he had directed at the bathroom wall. It was frightening to have the full focus of that killing look land on her.

“YOU PUT US ALL IN DANGER!” he thundered, tearing at his thinning dark blonde hair. “Jesus Christ, Joyce, you could’ve fucking died! What am I supposed to do with three kids? Huh? What do we have to gain from you acting alone like this? We’re a family and we need to act like a te-”

“IT WAS THE BEST PLAN AND NO ONE WAS ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT BUT ME!” Joyce fired back, shooting onto her feet. 


With that, the fighting flame inside of Joyce was extinguished. She sat back down with hunched shoulders, her eyes wide with hurt and disbelief, her chin trembling. Hopper took a sharp breath and immediately came forward and dropped to his knees in front of her, the rage gone and replaced with grief-stricken remorse. When his hands came up to cup her face, she turned her head, her expression going flat - no anger, no sadness- just a blank stare and a mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“I didn’t - Joycie, I didn’t -…” Hopper’s voice broke as he tried to guide her gaze back to him. “Please look at me, I was just worried. When I figured out you went after Brenner - Jesus, we talked about this. We were going to wait.” 

Joyce stood in a swift motion that caused Hopper to totter backwards. She stepped around him to the bathtub, bending to turn the Hot Water dial all the way up. 

“I never should have said you were crazy.”

She poured bubble bath into the tub, which was starting to cause a steamy fog to cover the room. 

“I’ll leave you alone, but I really, really need you to acknowledge that I’m talking because this is driving me-”

“I hate you.” There was no real venom in the utterance, Joyce stated it as casually as one would remark upon the weather, but her eyes narrowed as it gauged his reaction. 

She hit her mark, and as promised, he left the room. 

They say we are no longer human.

That we are things meant to be feared.

We are outcasts, traitors and cretins.

Our humanity has long disappeared.

But what does it mean to be human?

To breathe air? To walk on the ground?

What of those who seek freedom.

From the bodies to which we’re all bound?

.An end to the suffering; and end to the pain.

How does these things all make us insane?

What if we just seek the truth?

What if we just seek power?

When we show the world what we have found.

You run to your corners and cower.

Perhaps we are not monsters.

Perhaps we are more than you thought.

Perhaps we have gained what all mortals.

Since the beginning of time, have sought.

We are not the corrupt.

Look closer, and you will see

That we are not monsters.

Rather, we are free.

I was feeling poetic, OK?))

I yelled about this on Twitter but like three people follow me there so I’m gonna yell about it here

I’m tired of people attacking anyone who has any objection to the use of violence against Nazis as appeasers or neoliberals.

I know a lot of the objections are “let’s all sit down over a cup of tea and have a nice civil conversation instead” and believe me, I am also tired of that. That’s not where I’m coming from. But I’m seeing people questioning the efficacy of violence, or people who have deeply held nonviolent convictions, who aren’t saying any of that kum-ba-yah shit but are still getting accused of it.

Like, I saw someone pointing out that if you’re going to commit to violent resistance, people will get killed and it’s not always going to be the bad guys, and if you’re not prepared to watch your friends die then this isn’t a choice for you, and someone was like “oh what, should we just roll over for the Nazis then?” As if those are the only two choices: total submission or brawling in the streets.

Personally, I object to street fighting because I don’t think it’s going to work, based on what happened in ‘20s and ‘30s Germany with actual Nazis. There were actually several right-wing paramilitary organizations back then, one of which was the Nazi Sturmabteilung (SA “brownshirts”). The Communists and Socialists had their own street-fighting wings, and mixed it up with the Nazis and others on the regular.

Here’s the thing, though: the police and courts were largely right-wing, and while many weren’t fond of Nazis (and few appreciated the extra work of dealing with fighters), they hated the Reds and enjoyed seeing them take a beating. If they didn’t outright support the far-right fighters, they didn’t penalize them as much as they did the leftists. 

It was fairly easy for the right to convince more moderate Germans disturbed by the public conflicts that the left was wholly responsible. There were attempts to ban the SA, but they kept getting overturned because the government hated Communists and Jews more. And Hitler ended up seizing power because the more normal right-wing parties, needing a coalition to maintain a majority in the Reichstag, appointed him Chancellor.

In other words, the real power lay not with the Nazi street fighters, but with the white supremacist state that supported them.

I’m seeing people citing other instances where neo-Nazis have been discouraged by resistance, but I think the difference there is that they didn’t feel they had full backing of the government. Our white supremacist shitlords are celebrating Trump’s mealy-mouthed content-free statements as a message of support, and they’re confident that the police won’t stop them from hurting counter-protesters. They want to fight – at least, enough of them do to keep the movement going, though some will probably stay home from now on. After a brief period of blaming the Charlottesville murder on anti-Trumpers, they’re now celebrating it. This is what they wanted.

Are we willing to kill and be killed for the sake of discouraging marches when, compared to state oppression and murder of marginalized people, marches are meaningless? When there’s no guarantee it’ll even fix this smaller problem, and it definitely won’t fix the larger ones? Is it wrong that I question what we have to gain from this, and whether it’s worth what we have to lose?

It’s hard. That GIF of Richard Spencer getting wrecked still makes me happy on a gut level. I want these people to suffer in every possible way. But not if it costs us the lives of innocent people – and I’m very afraid that the pursuit of political violence will lead to more, and worse.

Disagree with my opinion on the efficacy of violence, sure. We can talk about that. I’m just not here for anyone accusing me of insufficient opposition or concluding that I think we should all hug it out.

Symbols in the highlight reel

So when the boys went to the sea, something occurred between JIn and taehyung, a fight, which led a drift between them. So the seven boys promised to each other that they’ll go in their own ways and try to remember each other through things that resemble or remind them of each other. This is the info we got from Jin’s note.

This is so symbolic, and our biggest clue. The following are the symbols that the boys try to hold onto to remind themselves of their friends.

(So I think they’re in their little break, and we get to see their lives during this time period in this reel. Some scenes are from before they went to the sea, some are from after.)

  • After they got back, Taehyung tried to live his old life through the girl we see in the reel – they do the things that he used to do with namjoon, and also gets arrested in a very similar way. Crime is Taehyung’s keepsake. But he also resents namjoon because he didn’t pick up the call when he needed him the most – when he killed his father. He resents phones.
  • Namjoon tries to reminisce his times with taehyung by taking care of his sister (the girl on the bus) and through the graffiti tae has left around the city. He is very sorry.
  • Jimin tries to relive his times with Hoseok through dance, he hurts himself one night while dancing, but hoseok isn’t there to take care of him. He also probably misses the girl hoseok dances with too, since the romantic affiliation is not dismissible if we are to strictly follow what we have seen in the reel.
  • Jungkook tries to remember or gains his memory back from the white lighter which is symbolic of Yoongi.
  • Yoongi was there when Jungkook’s accident happened. Yoongi IS probably the one that caused the crash, hence why we see Yoongi’s painting in Jungkook’s teaser for begin. Jungkook is crying, he calls out for his hyung. It’s also raining when the crash occurs. Also a reason why Yoongi takes out his pain on the piano. We also hear a sound of crash in “first love” teaser, which leaves Yoongi feeling helpless.
  • Hoseok is the one that saved Jungkook. We see in the reel that Hoseok is running in the rain with the girl on his back to save her, which could also be symbolic to that rainy night when Jungkook was injured and Hoseok had to carry Jungkook to save him. The most important symbol in hoseok’s story however, is the chocolate bar that he eats to recall his mother.
  • Jin tries to move on a bit, date someone new. He loves flowers though. The prospect of new things and people in his life makes Jin very happy, until the girl gets injured/dies in the road accident. He then remembers Jungkook – hence Jungkook’s symbol here is the accident.

After the girl’s accident, Jin goes to the flower shop to buy the smeraldo flowers. He buys it because he “wants to be a good guy”. He wishes to visit Jungkook and give him the flowers and accept the fact that he wasn’t able to help him, he tries to bring his friends back together so they could have their friendship back.

sneaky peeky chapter 17

gah! i haven’t posted a preview of i tadui hanar in forever,,,soooooooo,,here’s a small bit from the upcoming chapter!!

“Do you think they will succeed?” Said Faramir, “Do you think we all will succeed?”

Gimli tugged at his beard and hummed in thought. Stoking the flame, he said: “I do not believe it is a question of success. For how can success be measured? To a Man, it may be the size of his wealth, to another the size of his farm. To a Dwarf, success could be great love,” Gimli’s eyes flickered towards Legolas, who had come up silently to the fire, “or success in battle. Now, I don’t know the measure of success for Elves or Wizards but I do know this: At the end of this, we will know what we have gained, and what we have lost. And it is my hope that none of our Company will be among that number.”

“Aye, e pêd thand, we must count Elbereth’s stars of luck that, for we know, we remain whole in number,” Legolas said, “Especially you, mellon, who greeted Death’s door not long ago.”

Sometimes it screams to me in the nighttime
When the dark cloudy sky
Seems to stretch out for days instead of hours
Those things that we’ve lost.
In childish days,
Before I knew that happiness cannot be sought
Only found
By those who for an instant allow themselves to be distracted by the joy of unexpected moments.
We once were innocent.
We have lost that now.
No longer inside my heart
Is the hope of a happy future
Because instead I hope for a future with happy moments imbedded in it
And that is freeing.
Happiness is essential
But it is not the same as oxygen
I do not need to hold my breath.
You used to remind me of those days
When I felt like I was gasping
You were my sovieneer friend
A bittersweet reminder of what I’d lost.
And I could hardly stand to look at you.
So for a while I’d lost you too.
But now your voice sounds like the here and the now
And our friendship has more recent happy memories too.
You are so much more than a relic
You are unconditional support
And a fair few quality memes
And patience for my turbulence.
And I am proud of you.
We have both grown
And become something more
And I am glad
Because what we’ve lost
Is nothing
Next to what we have gained.