#I am in complete awe. @ fruits basket author I would do anything for you

[essellsea]

can you tell by the state of my eyes that the end of fruits basket absolutely annihilated every single one of my feelingsahhhhhh

[thranduil-ypfanfics]

Thranduil x Bilbo - Wrong Turn (Part 1)

Title: Wrong Turn Authors: Yaoi Paradox Rating: Rated M Category: M/M Fandom: The Hobbit Pairings: Thranduil / Bilbo Additional Info: I don’t own anything, this comes from my dirty fan girl mind.

Summary: Bilbo arrives to Mirkwood, only to be smitten with everything. He took a wrong turn and found a dripping, wet Elven King. PWP ——————————

Wrong Turn

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When Thorin had told Bilbo that they had been invited to the Kingdom of Mirkwood, the hobbit had believed he was joking. But as he was walking in the halls of Mirkwood towards the Elven King, he couldn't help but stare at his beauty. The Dwarf king radiated dark ruggedness and strength, while the Elven King radiated ethereal beauty and obvious evidence of regal bearing.

The Elven King shot the group an amused smile, though the dwarves were their usual grumpy selves. The hobbit was staring at him as if he were the anomaly. It was perhaps his first time seeing a small halfling. The tiny halflings face was fascinating to watch.

"Thank you for the invitation, Elven King." Thorin said gruffly. Even if they agreed to not hold their past accountable. Thorin was still a little resentful but he knew they'd be better allies than enemies. Then he tossed a quick glare to the awe-struck hobbit, he was slowly making his way down the hall by himself. "Bilbo."

Bilbo stopped shortly out of his daze and realized he was halfway down the hallway and quite a bit away from the group. Blinking a few times, the hobbit quickly made his way to Thorin's side and blushed. He'd just embarrassed himself and the drawf king in front of company, he was an idiot.

"We'll show you to your rooms so that you can get some rest from your journey." Thranduil quipped, before elegantly turning around and walking the way Bilbo had been heading. The scuffle of dwarves amused him, but he didn't turn around to check on them.

"Thorin, was Mirkwood like this before? I wasn't really paying attention then." Bilbo whispered to the leading dwarf. The other just looked at him and shot him a quick look before following the elf king down the hallway. When they arrived to the rooms, he noticed they were really large and elegant.

The beds were attached to the walls in a bunking shape. One bed imbedded in the wall, and one on top of it, and beside it. The four together created a square. There were vines and marble, and it was very obvious where they were staying. Greens, Creams and Beiges. The elves certainly had amazing taste in everything they did. The table was a beautiful dark wood and benches on either side of the table, in the center was a basket of fruit that looked mouth-watering.

"There are 2 rooms like such, and a separate room for the halfling and a separate room for the dwarf king." Thranduil said when he saw their faces pinched in confusion as to why there were not a lot of beds. Bilbo gasped in surprise, he had been expecting to bunk with the other dwarves like normal. His own room….

He had excitedly made his way towards the door before he realized he didn't know where his room would be. He had turned around blushing hoping that other people hadn't seen it. He froze when ice blue eyes were watching him in amusement. His face flamed and he looked back at the others who were chatting excitedly around the room.

"If you and the halfling follow me, I will direct you to your chambers" Thranduil said to Thorin who was watching Kili and Fili climbing all over the vines on the wall to reach the ceiling. The brown haired male grunted and headed towards the door. Bilbo waited for the two Kings to pass him before following quietly. The two were different as night and day, and yet they had similar walls built around them.

Coming up to a pair of solid cream coloured double doors, they stopped in front of it. It was slightly down the hall from the two rooms the other dwarves were located. Pushing it open, the doors opened to reveal the same design as the other rooms except instead of the bunk type beds; it had a large King sized bed pushed against the wall, with steps leading away from it. Thorin stepped forward and looked back at Bilbo.

"You'll be alright by yourself?" Bilbo looked around the room and then at Thorin's face. He seemed calm and more relaxed he'd been in a long while. He took a peak at Thranduil's face and then looked back at Thorin before nodding.

"Of course, I am perfectly safe in the presence of King Thranduil." Bilbo grinned before turning to the tall blond beside him. He felt super tiny compared to this man, but instead of feeling like a child as he felt with the dwarves he had this warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

A flash of surprise crossed Thranduil's face before he pursed his lips. Thorin evaluated Bilbo's face for a second before nodding himself. If the hobbit was just trying to put up a strong front in front of the King of Mirkwood, he'd be able to tell. With the way the hobbit was already looking down the hall excitedly for his own room, he obviously didn't have any worries.

Saying a final goodnight to Thorin, Bilbo looked up expectantly at the tall elf beside him. Tilting his head to the room a little down the hallway, Thranduil walked away from the emotions he didn't quite understand.

Bilbo couldn't help but stare at the long white blond strands of hair swaying behind the elf. The smaller wanted to run his hands through it to see if it was as silky as it appeared. He wanted to curl himself in it like it was a blanket. Blinking out of his daze, Bilbo thought hard about something they could discuss together. Opening the double doors to this room, Bilbo was happy to see it was the same as Thorin's though they had kindly placed a stepping stone beside the bed for him.

"I really appreciate the thought everyone put into making me comfortable. Being this size, it's sometimes hard to visit other people's homes without embarrassing myself." Bilbo smiled widely at Thranduil, then his eyes widened and he looked down at his feet. His face was flushed and Thranduil was fascinated by the colour.

"They may have gone slightly overboard as it is our first time having a halfling as a guest." A small giggle caused Thranduil to look at the other confused. Bilbo's face was still pink, but he was trying to cover it up as best he could.

"I'm s-sorry, it's just halfling?" Peels of laughter burst from the hobbit that he had to bend at the waist and place his hands on his knees. Bilbo was so busy laughing he didn't hear the door close, his laughter cut off when he felt something brush his face.

Crouching in front of Bilbo with his hand a few inches away from the hobbits face was The King of Mirkwood. The elf pulled his hand back. Bilbo was afraid he was going to pull away completely so he grabbed the long elegant fingers and clutched them between his much smaller hands.

Smiling gently, Bilbo looked straight into the fearsome kings' face. "What is it, your majesty?"

After a moment of just staring at the halfling, which he hadn't intended to say aloud. He impulsively corrected the other. "Thranduil."

"But that's improper!" Bilbo gasped in surprise. Sure he called Thorin by his friend name but they had travelled together and were like brothers.

Taking a shaky breath Thranduil remained where he was even though he wanted to run from the room. "In private, I would very much like you to call me Thranduil."

With all the stories that Thorin had told him about the past and the infamous King of Mirkwood who had betrayed everyone, Bilbo thought he was dreaming. He hadn't realized he was taking so long to reply. When he felt Thranduil's face go cold and he began to move to stand, Bilbo clutched the pale hand firmly.

"I'm sorry, wait. It was j-just a surprise. Why?" The smaller man felt calm in the others presence. Normally, thanks to his journey with the dwarves; the hobbit tended to not feel comfortable with others.

"Why do you smile so easily, I wonder?" Thranduil seemed to be thinking aloud to himself, so Bilbo didn't say anything. He just waited patiently for the other to gather his thoughts. "Such an exquisite creature." Suddenly he blinked and saw Bilbo watching him. There wasn't a blush on his cheeks, but he looked a little uncomfortable that he'd been caught in a daze. Bilbo couldn't help but giggle again.

"Uh... Thranduil? Why only me?" Bilbo didn't want to offend the other, but he really needed to know what the other was thinking.

"I thought perhaps you needed a companion who wasn't one of those rough, and dirty heathens." Bilbo could tell that Thranduil wasn't used to opening himself up to someone. The hobbit was amazed that such a beautiful elf was opening up to him.

"Though they are a little rough around the edges, they are the closest thing to family I have now." Bilbo said giving Thranduil a sheepish smile and gave his hand a tug towards the right side of the room.

"I apologize, my insult was uncalled for." Thranduil said as he stood and followed Bilbo's lead. Both sat at the small wooden table with their hands still linked. They continued talking in low, hushed tones late into the night and early the next morning.

---------------------

Click for Part 2

[mrcleanheichou]

Forever and ever chapter 2

When two young people fall in love others often call it puppy love. A love so intense that ultimately fizzles out very quickly. No one believes someone so young could fall for someone so fast and have it be genuine until they see it with their own eyes.

Pairing Cowboy!Jungkook x reader

Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut

Word count 2K

Warnings Mention of a boner

Author’s note soooo long time no see lol I am such a bad fic writer, I literally start a WIP and don’t touch it for months. I have 4 WIPs that I bounce between when i get writer’s block. Slowly but surely I want to start writing consistently so I can get better. So I offer to you my Bangtan cowboy yeehaw fic. I really want to read cowboy fics but there’s barely anything so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and wrote my own.

Here’s chapter 1

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1 week later Jungkook had just finished working on sections of the barbed wire fence with Jimin when he saw his hyung Jin getting the wagon ready. As soon as he put the roll of extra wire and his gloves back in the shed he jogged over to Jin. “Hyung! Are you going to town?”, He asked a little too loud making the horse Jin was hooking up to panic a little. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok.”, Jin says trying to get the horse back under control. Once he gets the nervous animal to calm down he looks toward the sweaty young man. “Yeah, I have to go to the market. Do you want to go?”Jungkook said yes a little to excitedly. “Ok, but go wash up. You stink.”

Jungkook hurried to the room he shares with Taehyung in the large ranch house where all seven of the men who work on Bangtan cattle ranch live. 

**~~~~~~~~~** The whole operation is split four ways between the four older men. Namjoon and Yoongi run the majority of everything between Yoongi finding buyers for their livestock and Namjoon negotiating deals. They are both very knowledgeable cattlemen despite being in their mid twenties. They do not let other cattlemen try to dupe them because they think they’re young and gullible. Multiple times meetings have almost come to blows since the older men don’t like being shown up by the quick witted duo. The other partners are Jin and Hoseok. Jin takes care of feeding six very hungry mouths. He is a very good cook and he is also very skilled at fixing leather. He makes money on the side by fixing bridles and saddles for other people. Then there’s Hoseok who used to be a bronco rider on the rodeo circuit and now he uses his skills to break in young horses. Jimin and Taehyung were a couple of trouble makers that would do little odd jobs and play cards to get money to drink and entertain the women at multiple saloons almost every night. They ended up at the same poker table as Yoongi one night 6 years ago. They got to talking and he told them about needing workers on his ranch. Jimin automatically said no. He was very against that idea since he didn’t want to do actual hard labor in the sun. Taehyung was more open to the idea of a consistent pay check. Yoongi made them a bet. They’d play three rounds of ‘7-card-stud’ and if Yoongi beat them at least two times then he’d stop asking. But if he did beat them then they both had to come work for him. They took the bet and obviously Yoongi won. Although Jimin still to this day swears Yoongi cheated. Jungkook’s story is a little different. He made the 50 mile journey to Coyote Creek from his family’s farm after one of many fights he had with his father. When his mother died his father turned to alcohol to drown the pain. He became a monster of a man and resented the fact that Jungkook looked like his mother. The only time an argument turned physical was right before Jungkook ran away. He accidentally burnt the dinner he was making. His father immediately got up and grabbed Jungkook by the shirt and yelled in his face about how useless he was. He told him he regreted ever having him and that he has never loved him. When Jungkook started crying his father slapped him across the face. That was the final straw for Jungkook. As soon as his father was too drunk to even know where he was, he started packing some of his things and stole some money his father’s stash in his closet. He raided the storehouse for as much essential foods that he could reasonably transport and packed it all up onto one of their horses. Taking one final look back at his childhood home, Jungkook finally stopped fighting his tears. He sobbed, allowing himself to mourn the loss of both his mother and father. Once he calmed down he got on his horse and left his old life behind. At the age of 14 Jungkook set off for a better life. It took him  two days to reach the town where he promptly started asking around for a job. Unfortunately no one was interested in hiring him, even for simple jobs. After six days he was out of cash, hungry and desperate. He went to the horse auctions and was going to sell his horse to survive when a man who was wearing an expensive looking black cowboy hat asked him why he looked so sad. Jungkook told him he couldn’t get money any other way and he had no home to return to. The man gave him a sympathetic look and told him to stay where he was. That he’d be right back. A few minutes later he came back with a shorter man in tow. “My name is Namjoon and this is Yoongi.”, the other man tips his hat at Jungkook “I’d like to make you an offer.” Jungkook was about to say thank you when Namjoon cut him off, “But, I don’t want the horse. We’re looking for a new ranch hand and you look like a hard worker. Would you like to come work for us?” Jungkook immediately says yes. “What’s your name kid?” “Jungkook.” “Where are your parents?” Yoongi asked looking concerned. When Jungkook looked down at the ground trying to come up with an answer Yoongi put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.” The two men take Jungkook with them to purchase the two horses they came to the auction for. They then head out for the ten mile ride it takes to get back to their ranch. Namjoon notices that Jungkook’s face looks sunburnt so he asks him if he needs a hat. “No, no it’s ok you don’t have to give me anything, I’m fine.” Namjoon pays him no mind as he takes the obviously expensive hat off his head and places it on Jungkook’s. “Every man needs a good hat.” Six years later Jungkook still wears it. **~~~~~~~** Jungkook took his time looking through his clothes. He finally chose a white button up, the pair of jeans he never wears when he does work and his nice town boots. After he washed up and changed he walked back to where Jin was waiting for him. ”You know we’re just going to town for supplies right?” Jin commented looking him up and down while Jungkook climbed onto the wagon next to him. Jin himself was wearing his work overalls that had leather oil on them. “Yeah, I just felt like dressing up that’s all.” Jin just shrugged and snapped the reigns to get the horse to start moving. When they got into town Jungkook immediately looked toward the school and was disappointed when it seemed like no one was there. Dejectedly, Jungkook got off the wagon and followed Jin to the first shop. “Ok, I made a you a list so we can split up and get it done faster”, Jin said handing Jungkook a piece of paper leaving him in front of the farmer’s market. Jungkook sighed and went into the shop that housed fruits and vegetables and opened the door. He grabbed a woven hand basket from the counter and went for the first item on his list. Apples. Not just any apples either, Jin wrote ‘***GOOD APPLES***’ Which caused Jungkook to stand confused in front of all the different types of apples for a few minutes. “What the hell does ‘good apples’ even mean? I thought all apples were good.” “Would you like some help?”, A sweet sounding voice asked. Jungkook looks to the side and almost gasped when he saw who was talking to him. It was the school teacher, she was stunning up close and her eyes were exceptionally beautiful. She smiles at him and he swears he felt his heart skip a beat. “You seem a little out of your element here.” “Y-yeah.”, Jungkook manages to say while trying to not stare at the woman. He doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with her. He doesn’t even know her. “Do you know what kind of apples you want?” Jungkook feels his face getting hot because, no. Jin just wrote apples and there’s a bunch of different kinds in front of him. “No, my hyung didn’t write down what kind he wanted.” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’m completely lost.” “That’s ok, can I see your list? Maybe I can try to guess what he’s making and get you the right apples for it.” Jungkook handed her the shopping list and their hands briefly touched causing Jungkook to completely stop breathing. The woman started reading the list and mumbling to herself with a look of concentration. Jungkook thought it was was the cutest thing ever. “Ok! I think he’s gonna be making apple pie because he wrote down; flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and butter. But you can’t get that here today. Mr. Lee only comes to town with his milk and butter 3 times a week so you’ll have to come back for that tomorrow. But we can definitely get your ‘Good Apples’ today.”, she giggled and he looked at her in awe. How could someone so lovely actually talk to him. He almost felt unworthy of being in her presence. “Ok so I’m going to be biased and get you the apples I personally think are the best for pie. If your Hyung doesn’t like them then tell me and I’ll give you money for different ones.” she said looking over her shoulder at a nodding Jungkook. “I love these ones. They’re ‘Pink Lady’ apples.”, she says grabbing a small light red apple “They’re Sweet but not too sweet. They make the pie come out much better than green apples and their name sounds classy.” She handed it to Jungkook and started picking out the best apples from the pile. After finding 6 perfect apples she put them in the basket he was carrying. Once again accidentally touching him In the process. Jungkook completely froze, he felt as if he was shocked by electricity. “I can help you with rest of your things” the woman said looking up at the poor awestruck man. “I mean only if you want me to...” she added when Jungkook just stared at her without answering worrying that she might have been intruding. Jungkook just nodded, he couldn’t trust himself to speak without fumbling over his words. The woman smiled and spent the next 30 minutes helping him with the rest of Jin’s list. After Jungkook payed the two made their way to the wagon. “Thank you for helping me. I would have been lost for a long time.” “You’re welcome” the teacher smiled at him brightly. “It was my pleasure. By the way what’s your name Mr apple pie?” “Jungkook” the woman pondered that for a second before extending her hand. “I’m y/n” Jungkook silently hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his hand was. If y/n did she didn’t say anything about it while grasping his calloused hand with her smaller and much softer hand. Jungkook felt ashamed when his thoughts immediately when to a dirty place when he imagined her soft hands touching him somewhere else. Mentally slapping himself he snapped out of it before he, as Jimin liked to call it, popped a boner. “Well, Mr. Jungkook, I’ll see you at the school house bright and early tomorrow” she said while turning to walk away. When y/n was gone Jungkook raised his hand to his face to make sure this was all real. With his luck this would end up being a dream. At least it would has been a really good dream. He must have zoned out for a while because he was startled back to reality by Jin clapping him on the shoulder, “Stop staring into la la land and help me tie everything down.” Jungkook took one last look at his hand, “You were right hyung” ...’love at first sight does exist.’ “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re barely realizing that now”

[rivkah94]

If it gets too hard, you can always come back here

A Yuki & Kisa Fruits Basket fic

The walk back was quiet, and, after so many months of chatter, it was eerie. Yuki fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt as he traveled along the dirt road that led to Shigure’s house. 

Home, he corrected himself. 

He was still getting used to calling it that, but it had become easier and easier lately. He no longer felt like he was lying when he said it, and, if he was being honest, that scared him just a little. 

Hanajima and Arisa had whisked Honda-san away immediately after school. For an adventure, they said, a journey, a secret mission. Yuki still didn’t understand them, but he smiled ever so slightly to himself as he thought of how they fawned over Honda-san and spoke to him like anyone else. They were strange, certainly, but so was he, and at least they had positive traits to show for it . . .

Kyo, on the other hand, had finally been convinced (forced?) to join Hatsuharu for some afternoon training. Momiji and Haru dragged him off before anyone had a chance to blink or object - not that Yuki would. 

“It’s far more peaceful without him around,” he said to the trees, but he was met with only silence. 

He gripped the strap of his bag tightly and sped up his pace, suddenly eager to be free of the forest. The house came into view up ahead, and he relaxed a little. He opened the front door and slipped off his shoes. 

“I’m back,” he called out.

Silence. Yuki frowned as he dumped his bag unceremoniously at the foot of the stairs and walked into Shigure’s office. He wasn’t there, but the voicemail light on his phone was blinking urgently, so Yuki had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing the author (were you an author if you barely actually wrote?) anytime soon. 

Guess it’s just me this evening.

Yuki stood in the office doorway for a few moments, letting that thought fill the air around him until it became unbearable. He headed to the kitchen, hoping to find distraction by way of a snack or the living room television. He had been alone plenty of times in this house, but it had been a long time. 

Was it always awful like this? 

He knew the answer of course: aloneness used to just mean he was alone - now it meant that something - someone - was missing. He tried not to fixate on it as he pulled juice out of the fridge. It was almost empty. He took off the cap and drank straight from the carton. 

A creak drew his attention. He opened the divider between the kitchen and living room a bit more and frowned. There was a silhouette on the paper door leading to the porch, someone crouched in the corner. Yuki stepped through the room and slid the door open.

Sitting, tucked into the corner of the door and a bend in the wall, with knees drawn to her chest, was Kisa. She was in her school uniform, and she had been crying. 

When Yuki opened the door, she looked up with a tear stained face and stared in silence, her grip on her knees tightening ever so slightly. Yuki stared back for a few seconds before squatting down in front of her, juice carton still in one hand. 

“Kisa,” he said, “How long have you been here?” 

Kisa rubbed her eyes, pausing as she realized her nose was running. Yuki reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it out to her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she took it and wiped her nose. 

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. That’s what it’s for.”

They sat in silence for another moment.

“The girls at school,” Kisa murmured, “I thought one of them had started to like me . . . I thought, maybe . . . She would be my friend . . .” 

She sniffled again, and her voice broke as fresh tears began to fall. Yuki’s chest ached. He didn’t know Kisa very well - their age difference was enough that he rarely saw her even when he was able to meet with the others growing up. But she reminded him of himself - just as Haru had said. 

Why is Haru always right?

“Come inside,” Yuki said, standing up and pushing the door wide open. 

Kisa shakily rose to her feet and walked inside, dropping her school bag on the table and standing in the middle of the room, Yuki’s handkerchief clutched in both hands. 

Yuki dumped the juice carton in the trash and turned to Kisa. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure what to say. 

If only Honda-san were here . . .

That was obviously who Kisa had come to see. Of all the days. 

“Honda-san . . . I don’t know when she’ll be home.”

Yuki didn’t think Kisa could look any sadder, but the way her face fell was devastating. Yuki knew how she felt. He’d been trying to suppress it the whole way back from school. But he couldn’t just leave Kisa in the lurch like this. He had to try. 

“What happened at school?” 

Kisa gripped the handkerchief even tighter. She was quiet for so long that Yuki thought he wasn’t going to get an answer, but then she spoke, so softly that he had to take a few steps closer to hear. 

“I thought . . . She would be my friend. But then, after class, two other girls were t-telling me that . . . That my voice sounds stupid . . . And I should just be quiet again . . . “

Kisa paused to rub her eyes and wipe her nose again. 

“They shoved me a little, then asked her if she agreed . . . She said yes, and left without me . . .” 

Kisa squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body shaking.

“I failed. I tried to make friends, but I can’t . . . I’m just not good enough . . . Even though I’m trying I can’t.” 

Yuki was still, watching Kisa shake as she cried. There were a few minutes of silence broken only by her sobs, before he finally spoke.

“You know,” he said, “I . . . I can’t make friends either.” 

Kisa raised her eyes to his, tears still slipping from the corners, a confused expression. 

“I’ve never been able to do it. Even now . . . It’s really Honda-san’s doing, everybody I spend time with. Even Haru . . . He just decided one day to talk to me, but I’ve never really been a good friend to him. I’m pathetic, honestly.” 

Kisa’s eyes widened, her mouth open in a small “o”. She knew very little about Yuki, really, only that he was Akito-sama’s favorite. She thought it would be wonderful to be favored by someone, and that Yuki must be very popular. She was bewildered. 

“I stopped trying a long time ago. Like I said, there was a time I stopped talking too . . . And even once I started again, and I moved out here with Shigure, but things didn’t get much better. Everyone at school looks up to me, but I’ve never done anything to earn their admiration. Even when I was chosen for student council, I didn’t want it. And even if they look up to me, none of them really know me at all because I don’t show them the real me. Because I’m afraid if I did . . . They’d all hate me.” 

Yuki smiled at Kisa, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m awful, really. I’m not kind or personable. I’m . . . I’m a coward.” 

Kisa had stopped crying by this point, completely floored by the look on Yuki’s face and the sincerity in his voice. He was saying exactly what she knew about herself. 

Yuki clenched his fists. It was true - there was nothing redeemable about him.

But Honda-san makes me feel like maybe there could be. 

He turned his back to Kisa, hoping she wouldn’t notice his watery eyes. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair to compose himself.

“Do you want to see my secret base?” He asked, whirling to face Kisa.

She jumped a little.

“Secret . . . base?”

“Yes. Only people I trust are allowed to see it. Do you want to?”

He held out his hand. Kisa wasn’t sure what to make of his offer, but she was curious what kind of secret base someone like Yuki would have. She took his hand. 

They walked in silence, hand in hand, for a few minutes. Kisa noticed that they followed a footpath through the trees - one she suspected had been carved by Yuki. The sun was setting, and she thought briefly that her mother might be worried, but she didn’t think she could face her just yet. Not after she had failed, again. 

“Here it is.” 

Yuki’s voice shook her from her thoughts. Before them sat a large bed of vegetable sprouts, all aligned in neat rows, a trowel stuck in the dirt at one corner. Yuki dropped her hand and walked to the other side of the bed, squatting down and pointing to a sprout. 

“This is chive,” he said, “You like those, right?” 

Kisa nodded and approached, squatting down beside Yuki to examine the small plant.

“In a month it will be ready to harvest,” Yuki explained, “And then I’ll have to deal with Kyo’s stupid shouting about how much he hates them.” 

Kisa giggled and then froze. It had escaped before she even realized it was coming. Yuki smiled in relief. At least he hadn’t totally messed this up. 

“Why do you grow vegetables?” Kisa asked. 

Yuki considered lying, but he felt that wasn’t fair to Kisa. He’d already bared so much of his soul to her anyway.

“Because it’s nice to be needed by something - to know that I’m important to something, somewhere. If I don’t come and water or weed the garden, the crops won’t thrive. They need me the most when they’re first planted, before the sprouts really come up. To know that I am making the difference between something growing or not . . . It makes me feel like maybe there is one good thing I can do.” 

Kisa and Yuki looked out across the garden in silence. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes, but a steady air settled between them. They were both surprised to find it comforting. A breeze rustled the sprouts. Yuki turned to Kisa.

“You know,” he said, “I agreed to be the next student council president. The current one kept asking me to, and I didn’t want to do it because I was afraid. I would have to work many other people, and they’d learn more about me because we’d always be talking. I didn’t want to do that . . . But then you came, and you talked about how hard things are . . . And then you decided to go back to school anyway. You said you would try harder, and keep trying, even though it’s scary.”

Yuki turned away, kicking himself that he couldn’t keep the eye contact longer, but he wasn’t ready - not yet. 

“It’s because of you,” he said, “That I could be brave. For you to go back even when you were so afraid, it made me realize I could do it too. It reminded me that I needed to try harder too. . .Thank you, Kisa, for helping me be brave.” 

Silence. Silence. Silence. Then a small sigh. Kisa dropped her head onto Yuki’s shoulder, leaning her small body against his side. She shook a little, and he knew she was crying again, but it was different this time. It was relief, not heartbreak. He was relieved too. 

They sat like that for a few more minutes before Kisa said she better call her mother and let her know she was okay and coming home soon. They walked back to the house, hand in hand again. They didn’t say anything, but this silence was nothing like the silence on Yuki’s walk home. 

“Thank you,” Kisa whispered as they approached the house. She smiled up at him. 

“You’re really kind, Yuki-niisan.” 

Yuki smiled back. He didn’t believe her - not yet. But he would. 

[forsetti]

On Syria

I wrote the following in September of 2013 about Syria.  In light of the recent Tomahawk missile strike against a conveniently vacated air base by the current administration, I thought it was relevant to drag out of mothballs and repost.  At the end, I've added a few additional thoughts in light of what has changed with regard to Syria since late 2013. The politics, second guessing, finger pointing and knee jerking going on about the situation in Syria doesn’t surprise me.  It amuses me.  It angers me.  It does not surprise me.  The large faction on the right that loves nothing more than flexing America’s military muscle, especially in the Middle East against them “terrorist Muslims”, are having to confront their hatred of anything and everything President Obama says and does.  So when he suggests a possible military strike against a Middle East dictator, their simple, black and white (no gray matter) brains get overheated.  “Must kill terrorists.”  “Must not agree with President.”  When you add the rightwing talking points of the President being a secret Muslim and Communist who hates America into the mix of their fragile, fact devoid minds, it sets off a reaction the effects crew of “Scanners” would envy.  So you have a large group of people who want nothing more than to bomb the cheesy five-clock-shadow mustache off Assad suddenly wearing tie-dye, wearing hemp necklaces with peace symbols and smelling of patchouli.  That is how powerful their hatred of the President is. The other major faction on the right is those who are so ingrained and whose self-worth is so intricately tied to military power that they are willing to swallow the bitter pill of supporting the President if he decides to strike Syria.  But their hatred of him is still lingering around their murderous heads like bottle flies on a corpse.  They don’t want him to authorize a surgical strike, they want him to fully engage the Syrian Army.  They don’t want him to go to Congress for authorization, they want him to go “Cowboy” (also known as “going Full Bush”), and attack Assad with all we’ve got and invade Syria like we did Iraq (because that experiment turned out so peachy for us and the Iraqis why not have an encore).  This part of Wingnutopia will support an attack on Syria but only if it is “balls to the wall”, “Shock and Awe”, “Our dicks are bigger than yours”.  They also don’t want any responsibility for the costs, lives lost, damage done, any possible negative consequences.  They want all of those to be completely on the President.  This is why they are whining like a hipster who didn’t get the right chai latte about President Obama going to Congress for approval.  They love killing people but don’t want any blood on their hands or dead Americans on their conscious.

Then there are those on the left-the war protesting, PETA member, vegans who “want everyone to just get along through hot yoga, Zumba or sharing a loaf of gluten-free homemade bread.”  Any bombing, for any reason, is 100% wrong, 100% of the time.  Sure they are upset at Assad for killing tens of thousands of civilians and using chemical weapons but that can all be cured with some scented candles, warm oils and hot stones to free up his fifth chakra.  President Obama’s decisions are completely wrong because he hasn’t considering sending Assad a spa package, fruit basket and a “Just concerned” card with a cute, furry kitten on the front.  These people are easy to identify because they are the first ones tossing around lines like, “You can’t solve killing through killing”, “The President needs to give back his Noble Peace Prize” and “Violence only leads to more violence”.  Like their counterparts on the right, they live in a completely black and white gated world where nuance and complexity are not allowed in.

There is the “butt hurt Left”, those who voted for President Obama but are disappointed that he hasn’t lived up to their idealistic standards.  “He hasn’t closed Guantanamo like he promised” (never mind it was one of his first orders of business after taking office but has to have Congressional approval and there were too many Dems who pussed out and voted with Republicans).  “He didn’t push for single-payer health care.” (Forget that it would never have passed and even the watered down version we got with ACA passed by the narrowest of margins).  There is an almost endless list of these types of complaints which can all be summed up as “He promised us unicorns that piss rainbows and fart glitter.”  That there isn’t rainbow pissing, glitter farting unicorns in everybody’s backyard just shows he has betrayed the people who elected him.  “He said he would get us out of Iraq and Afghanistan!”  He is and quicker than was originally planned.  He didn’t say he wouldn’t ever engage the military.  He has never said that America won’t get involved around the globe.  He has said that when we do it needs to be for the right reasons and approached differently than in the past because the old paradigm is broken.  If these people paid as much attention to the President’s speeches since he decided to run back in 2008 that they do to picking nits, they would quickly see he is exactly who he has claimed to be.  I defy any of them to go read his Noble Peace Prize speech and tell me he isn’t doing exactly what he said-“To say that force is sometimes necessary is not a call to cynicism - it is a recognition of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason.” Go read his campaign speeches from 2008 and 2012 and you will see someone who knows not only history and his place in it but someone who knows the pragmatic limitations of both.   There are the those who don’t want to do anything about Syria because they “don’t feel any sympathy or responsibility” for what is happening there.  “Assad is killing rebels, some who are thugs, terrorists, and criminals.  Why should I care?”  A side argument to this is-“Yes Assad has killed 100,000 of his own people but if we get involved he will just kill more.”  The bottom line to both these and other related arguments is “I am not affected by what is going on so who cares?”  I can hear the hackles getting up on those who have taken these positions-“I do too care!  In fact, I don’t want more bad things to happen, that shows how much I care.”  Ummmmm….No.  That shows you don’t want to do anything and I fail to see how sitting idly by is going to help in any way.  I’ve seen this scenario played out before in Bosnia where we sat idly by as the Muslim Bosniak population was systematically killed by Bosnian Serbs under Slobodan Milošević.  We finally did get involved and the ethnic cleansing stopped but only after months and months of hand-wringing, moralizing, debating, whining and responsibility shirking.  It is great we were able to help end the genocide but how many Muslim Serbs died while we were playing “It’s on your shoulders hot potato”?  Tens of thousands for sure.  For what purpose?  To make us feel better about ourselves and to spread out the possible responsibility as wide and far as possible so if things went bad, everybody’s asses were covered.

A lot of the same people saying we have no business in Syria and don’t feel any moral responsibility for what is happening are some of the same people who spent years complaining about the U.S.’s lack of helping the genocide in Rwanda.  I’ve even heard a number of these people say, “We didn’t do anything in Rwanda, so getting involved in Syria would be wrong/hypocritical.”  This is a horrible argument.  First, the administrations during the Rwandan crisis were different so their aims, policies, and views cannot be compared to present leadership.  Second, what kind of moral position is “We didn’t do anything before so we can’t now”?  That we didn’t intervene in Rwanda was a great moral failing, replaying that movie is not going to somehow redeem us or reset our ethical tally.  It is going to be just another black mark.  If you are unhappy about our moral failings of the past, then it seems that the best course of action is to learn from our mistakes, not repeat them.  As wrong as it was to do nothing about Rwanda, the Congo, Sudan… the reality of the situation is Syria does have geopolitical importance and those countries didn’t.  Ethically this means nothing but it is a variable that can’t be ignored.  You don’t have to like this, you can complain that it isn’t fair and wrong but that doesn’t change reality.  You can bitch that the Middle East is all about oil and you’ll get no argument from me.  You can gnash your teeth about “blood for oil”, we shouldn’t be reliant on unstable countries and government, etc. and I’ll defend your positions and lead your marches.  But there is an abyss between “what should be” and “what is” and if you constantly live on the “should be” side without understanding and taking into consideration the “what is” side, you are nothing more than a modern Don Quixote.

What I don’t hear in the media, in Congress, at the bar, on Facebook…is an honest discussion about the issues involved concerning Syria.  Everything I hear is politically and emotionally based.  I understand these tatics but find them both incredibly useless for an honest discussion and any possible solution.  What I hear is-“I’ve heard this story before.  Why should I believe the government especially when it comes to getting involved in another Middle East country?”  I understand why people ask this question.  The sad reality is the Bush administration’s foreign policy, especially with regard to Iraq, will have deep consequences for decades to come.  Because they intentionally lied about Iraq having WMDs and their imminent threat because they used the war to funnel money to top Republican donors and to the company previously led by the vice president, it not only cost us billions of dollars, 4000+ lives, it cost us credibility internationally and more importantly, at home.  Now if situations arise where a possible military action is involved, especially in the Middle East, the automatic response it is “fabricated”, “a ploy by the military complex”, “an intentional diversion to take the focus off of other problems”, etc.  That Bush & Co. did this should go down as one of the greatest travesties in American history.  It does not, however, have anything to do with future administrations unless it is inhabited by many of the people who fucked things up the first time.  Syria is not Iraq.  Doctors Without Borders was one of the first organizations to report the use of chemical weapons.  A couple of different countries have independently verified that Sarin was used and responsible for the deaths of at least 1400 Syrians (it should also be noted that this was not the first time chemical weapons were used but it was the most lethal).

Who used the chemical weapons?  I think this is a legitimate question.  Did the rebels or an outside force who wants the Assad regime to fall use them in order to get the U.S. and the international community involved in the fight?  Possible.  Unlikely but possible.  Sarin and other chemical weapons like anthrax have specific chemical signatures.  If the Sarin used in Syria would have come from Iran or elsewhere, it would have a different signature makeup.  So far, all the evidence is that the chemicals used came from the Syrian stockpile.  Is it possible an anti-Assad faction inside the Syrian Army got ahold of some weapons and either used them or gave them to someone who would in order to help facilitate Assad’s fall?  Possible.  Of course, this would mean that Assad doesn’t have control over his chemical weapons stockpile which might be a greater concern than a single use.  This would mean that such weapons could end up in the hands of terrorist groups and dictators whose ideology is both fanatical and self-destructive.  Whether or not Assad’s army used chemical weapons or allowed them to be stolen, it is a major problem that needs to be addressed.

Why don’t we let the international community deal with the situation?  That would mean the U.N.  Certainly that would be preferable but the reality of the situation makes it impossible.  The only way for the U.N. to step in and impose sanctions on Assad it would need the approval of the Security Council.  Unfortunately, there are five members of that council that has veto power over any resolution-U.S., France, U.K, China, and Russia.  In order to impose sanctions on Syria, none of these countries can object.  China might be persuaded to back sanctions.  Russia will never, repeat NEVER, allow any sanctions against Syria.  Syria is the only ally/asset Russia has in the Middle East and they are not going to do anything that would jeopardize this.  Syria has the only Russian naval base in the Mediterranean Sea.  Syria is a huge arms customer of Russian weapons.  I cannot imagine what Assad would have to do for Russia to be willing to give up this asset.  This automatically makes any international sanctions and coalition from the U.N. not an option.  For everyone putting your eggs in that basket, stop because that basket is as real as the Easter Bunny’s.

That pretty much reduces the options down quite a bit.  Doing nothing is an option.  I’m not certain what anyone expects to happen other than Assad killing more of his people and millions of more Syrian refugees.  That is exactly what will happen if nothing is done.  Does that mean we have to do something?  No, but it means that if/when this does happen part of the culpability is on our shoulders.  If this is what does happen, I am certain ten years from now I’ll be listening to people whine about Obama’s and America’s moral failing in Syria.

But some of the rebels are members of terrorist groups like Al Qaeda.  Why would we want to help them?  We don’t.  We want to help the average Syrian.  If doing so also helps groups/people we don’t like, that is an unfortunate consequence but shouldn’t prevent us from doing what is right for the right reasons.

If Assad is overthrown then Syria could fall into a horrible civil war that could kill thousands of more people than if we do nothing.  Perhaps.  That is always a risk when a dictator is toppled.  There really is nothing you can do outside of complete intervention, occupation, and nation-building that will take this possibility off the table.  Not certain the alternative-prop up dictators-is a justifiable position, especially long-term.

Obama is asking Congress to get us into another war in the Middle East.  This claim really offends the linguist in me.  A military strike is not a war.  A limited surgical strike is not going to war.  To conflate these is done to rile people up because most people don’t want to go to war but it is completely dishonest.  The President is not asking Congress to authorize war with Syria.  He is asking them to authorize limited military actions in response to Assad using chemical weapons.  If you can’t grasp the differences between these, you have no business discussing this issue.

Having a pretty decent knowledge of the area, the histories of the countries and people involved, the verified facts (as of right now) I don’t know what the right action is with regard to Syria.  Part of me knows that no matter what we do/don’t do, the Syrian people are screwed.  Assad isn’t going to step down and even if he wanted to I don’t think Russia would let him unless they could guarantee a greater or equal ally taking his place.  The stronger the opposition becomes the more Assad will feel threatened and will use even harsher means to deal with them.  If we don’t do something to help Assad’s fall, the Syrians who have been displaced, who have fled their homes, who have watched their family and loved ones killed will, rightly or wrongly, hold us responsible which just turns another generation of children from a Middle East country against us which will make for larger problems down the road.  I know that there are a lot of armchair moralists and foreign policy “experts” who either use the situation for political purposes (I am sure the Syrian people appreciate your superficial interest in their plight in order to score political points or raise money) and/or who simplify the issues into a bumper sticker talking point.  I know that we should not allow anyone to use chemical weapons without responding.  I know that any response should be very limited but very specific to avoid as much collateral damage as possible.  I know the people wanting full engagement are bloodthirsty, dangerous idiots that have no business on any Foreign Policy committee.  I know the people screaming “no more war” can’t grasp complexities and are historically naïve.  I know that we’ve been on the wrong side of regimes, dictators, and foreign policy for decades and the consequences won’t be undone in an administration or two.  I know change has to start before it can ever get better (if you don’t understand the seismic shift in policy by the President putting the decision in the hands of Congress, you are part of the problem).  I know that no matter what we do/don’t do, it will be criticized.  I know that I wouldn’t want the responsibility of any of this resting on my decision.  I know the children of Syria deserve our very best discussions and decisions.

* 2013 Postscript-U.N. Secretary Samantha Powers’ case for action points out some of the issues I’ve addressed, especially securing the chemical weapons stockpiles.  We need to impress on Assad either A)He cannot use them; And/or B)He needs to secure them so they don’t get into the wrong hands.  The 1400+ deaths are a drop in the bucket compared to what these weapons can do. *2017 Postscript-Since originally posting this article, the U.S. and Russia negotiated removing the bulk of chemical weapons from Syria which was no small feat.  Assad is a typical dictator who has no problem killing thousands of his fellow citizens in order to retain power. The recent deaths in Syria due to chemical weapons are certainly horrible, tragic, and unfortunate but they are a drop in the bucket of what would have been taking place the past few years had President Obama and Putin not worked together to get Assad to hand over tons of their chemical weapons supply.  Even if Syria handed over every chemical weapon they had stockpiled in 2014, there was nothing preventing them from making more which they certainly did.  Since 2013, a few major changes have taken place in Syria.  First, Russia became an hands-on actor which was expected.  Russia is never, ever going to give up their military port on the Mediterranean Sea without a serious fight.  They need Assad or at least someone as loyal to the Kremlin as Assad in charge of Syria.  Any U.S. involvement in Syria will be seen and treated as a threat by Russia.  Second, I have no theoretical problem with Trump sending missiles into Syria.  The problem I have is he has intentionally targeted Syrian refugees as a group he doesn't give a flying fuck about.  You can't claim to bomb a country for humanitarian reasons while at the same time deny the people who need the humanitarian aid the most a way to escape the carnage Syria, Russia, and now the U.S. are inflicting on them. Third, because there is no back door path to actually help Syrians who are caught in the middle of Assad, Russia, ISIS, and Syrian rebels, the only conclusion anyone with an iota of sense or honesty could come to is the Tomahawk strike by Trump was nothing more than the typical conservative president dick waving as a show of “strength” and “power.”  Ultimately, nothing the U.S. does will make a damn bit of difference in Syria because the internal and external forces involved won't allow them to do anything that could really help.  In the meantime, the citizens of Syria will continue to suffer and die because they are caught in the middle of arrogant, power hungry, dick waving actions between Assad, Putin, and now Trump.