#scussion

[hyliasblade]

No body has Sent me any Too Much Information Tuesday things

Should I consider this A Good thing

[soullessjack]

I’m too tired to really contribute to the dean-scussion right now. but I think a lot of y’all should consider that he is simply a penguin pebbler

[maggiec70]

What were Lannes' political views, as far as the issues of his time ? (e.g. republicanism, abolition) Thank you ! <3

With regard to the "issues of his time," Jean-boy was far more interested in survival. Like his siblings, he worked at odd jobs--sometimes quite odd--from the time he was around seven or son until he enlisted in the regional national guard for a short while in 1791--too many minor aristos still in charge--and then as a volunteer in mid-1792.

By that time he had four immutable viewpoints: he loathed the Bourbons, all of them; he was unrelentingly contemptuous of emigres in particular and aristocrats in general; he hated the British; and was a committed anti-clerical. Although his older brother was a priest, for economic and social reasons rather than from any sort of religious calling, he didn't think much of the upper clergy in their silk vestments and golden crucifixes.

From 1792 until the beginning of the Consulate, Lannes was a Jacobin, and would often make brief little political speeches back home that were known more for their fervor and profanity than any deep political insights.

He obviously had no problem with his Jacobin views or his contempt for aristocrats at the same time he cheerfully--for the most part--and loyally--also for the most part--followed First Consul Bonaparte and then Emperor Napoleon or was addressed as Monsieur le duc. His theory on that obvious dichotomy was that Napoleon had earned his consular and imperial rank, unlike all those other "divine right" idiots, and he had certainly earned his own rank through personal risk and bloodshed and not inheritance.

If you're interested in someone with more finely-expressed and wide-ranging political views, with an educated eye on the issues of the day, look elsewhere. Our Hero was soldier, and way too busy studying how to be a better one. He attended a few social gatherings and salons and dinners where politics, social issues, and perhaps even economics were discussed. His contributions to those dic=scussions were generally brief, pithy, and replete with F-bombs.

[moonangel24]

i'ma give it to you right, ain't no discussion, 'scussion

VEDO ft. Natasha Mosley - 4 Walls

[nighthawkes]

gay people succ-scussion (succession discussion) with a normally quiet coworker 😳

[runawaydr3amerao3]

MORE DICK-SCUSSION YES YES THIS. I hate that there's not more exploration of Dean being re-foreskinned after Cas raises him. Heck, not even just post-resurrection, not even just Dean. More fic with intact Winchester junk would be amazing.

I hate that MY OWN BRAIN, as an Aussie, in a country where circumcision is not and has never been the norm, has cruise-controlled into writing so many fics without even considering giving Dean his foreskin back, despite loving that headcanon. I think like an American when I write in this fandom, and at moments like this, it's a sad and lost opportunity.

2024 resolution to return to Dean the joy of his foreskin. Gonna do you right, bb.

listen it's already wincest wednesday in my neck of the woods so I'm gonna just get right down to it: couldn't stop thinking about sam being just weirdly obsessed with dean's circumcision scar (in like the a sweet body-worship kind of way but also in a gross-boys-being-gross-boys kind of way; they contain multitudes) and THEN had to contend with the idea that post!S3, if post!hell dean got rehymenated... did he also have to have his circumcision redone? or was he just rockin' foreskin for the rest of the series? genuinely I think this is the most I've ever considered hypothetical foreskin in my life. anyways, a tip of the hat and a glorious wincest wednesday to you all!

EEEE anon!!!! correct!!!!!!

[NSFT under the cut!!!!!]

i imagine in a scenario where dean is circumcised and sam is not, it's because mary and john intended to have it done, but haven't gotten it done yet, but obviously, it slips through the cracks after the fire.

i think it starts as a 'hey this is different than me.' (if anything at first sam gets kinda bummed about it, bc it's another sign that dean got something when he was younger (a happy family that had time to care abt things like that) that sam didn't)

but like...then it gets weird.

if they're intimate pre-hell, sam can't stop touching the scar. he'll blow dean just so he can feel it against his tongue, he'll reach over and put his hand down dean's pants just when they're watching TV or something so he can hold his dick in his hand and run his finger along it.

maybe dean notices that sam's a little obsessed, but just chalks it up to sam being weird bc dean's going to hell in a month.

and of course if we look at the traditional religious implications of circumcision, it's a physical difference between them, a show that dean has this covenant with a higher power that sam does not because he's demonic, and he's evil, and he's wrong.

but when dean comes back w a foreskin, i don't even think he notices until he showers. he screams bloody murder, and bobby kicks the bathroom door in, and dean's like "what the FUCK did they do to my dick??"

the first time they're intimate post-hell, sam sticks his hand down dean's pants and freezes. dean totally forgot to give him a heads-up, but it's too late as sam rips dean's pants down.

game over, honestly. sam doesn't become any less obsessed. he loves the way he can slide it back and taste dean's sweat, his dried come. you also bet they dock. like all the time.

as for getting it done again, i wouldn't be surprised if that was an implication from the higher ups, like 'oh look u can prove your loyalty again, and choose to make this covenant again type thing w heaven,' but i don't imagine dean being down with that (but if he does get it done again, sam wants to do it, you can't change my mind; getting to MAKE that scar?? jesus christ (charlotte agrees))

anyway.

you're right, i've also never thought about the state of dean's dick season to season, but ahh...yeah.

thank you anon for this lovely ask, and happy (day-late) wincest wednesday!

-lizzy

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

So uh

I just finished season 1 of dirk gently.

WHAT IN THE FRESH ACTUAL FUCK-

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AAAAAAAAAAA! ESTAVEZ DIDNT FUCKING DESERVE THIS!!! THIS ISNT FUCKING FAIR! I WANTED HIM TO JOIN THE AGENCY!! HIM AND FARHA AND TOD AND DIRK COULDVE BEEN A TEAM! A GREAT FUCKING TEAM!!! ITS! NOT! FAIR!

...good news is the rowdy three are still awsome,amenda is still bae,is lydia spring gay? Doesnt matter anyway. Dirk just got his friends back but now he's getting taken away,karma got tod,to his dismay,but i have high hopes for season 2 that its gonna make everything ok! ...horray?

Sorry,idek wtf that just was.

One last thing tho,bert and ken's friendship is so amazing and beautiful i love it.

[zeetheus]

A Single Pale Rose

a.k.a. my complete teardown of everything that this episode affects, off the top of my head, and with the caveat that I haven’t read anyone else’s post-episode discussion/theorizing at all, and know a couple spoilers from a few later eps

So Rose Quartz was actually Pink Diamond all along. She didn’t want to be Pink Diamond anymore for whatever reason, she ordered her Pearl to ‘shatter’ her while taking on her own Rose Quartz visage, thus giving the impression that Pink was permagone, while in actually she reformed in a completely new form including shifting the orientation of her gem, and lived on while pretending to be a completely different variety of gem. She also forbade Pearl from ever telling anyone the truth about it, and Pearl seems physically unable to disobey that.

First off, shoutout to the wiki editors who are now tearing down all of the information on the ‘rose quartz gem variety’ that we extrapolated from Pink Diamond, because most of it is now defunct. The only canonical information we now have on rose quartzes are ‘Pink Diamond made them’ and ‘all of them are bubbled in the human zoo.’

I theorize that Pink Diamond (henceforth Rose with a capital r) made them specifically, in part, to be her later disguise, or at least guided their creation in a way so that she could easily take on the form of one with little issue.

Rose, being a diamond and not a quartz, lied to her soldiers to hell and back. I don’t know whether or not she was lying through her teeth when she gave Bismuth the impression that she was ‘made right here (on Earth) in the dirt’ but yanno, maybe she didn’t do that specifically, sometimes people over-romanticize their leaders. Still, there’s no longer any weight behind ‘but she was different’ because... of course she was, she was one of four existent diamonds and was, by definition, different from other rose quartzes, and even other gems.

Her goals were still noble and good, but much of the impact of her ‘uniqueness’ as ‘a quartz who broke through her station’ is now completely gone. Maybe it still does hold some impact, since she is a ‘diamond who broke through her station’ now instead, but I’m not particularly impressed with that angle. She was already unique - the one and only Pink Diamond. There were a bunch of rose quartzes. By the way, the actual rose quartzes were all nearly shattered, if it wasn’t for Blue’s sentimentality.

Pearl not actually being (entirely) defective was also a strange thing to consider. Sure she ‘defected from Homeworld’ but she never ‘defected’ from her Diamond-given purpose as a Pearl - she served Pink Diamond until the end, and even beyond. Perhaps Pearl is unique in that way, as the only Crystal Gem to bring her purpose with her. (Although admittedly I don’t remember if/how Rose felt about their relationship in that aspect, but I’m guessing she wasn’t too hot on Pearl being 100% subservient to her.)

This angle I can’t blame Rose for specifically, because it was undoubtedly the other Diamonds who brought the brute force, but there were thousands of gems shattered and thousands more corrupted as a result of the Diamonds seeking to avenge her supposed shattering. Sure she gained her freedom, and brought many other freedom-seeking gems with her, but was it right of her to deceive literally all of those followers and bring them into a war that she played a part in initiating?

Either way it’s clear that she felt a lot of sorrow and loss and even guilt as a result of the war, and dedicated hundreds of years to trying to reverse the corruption that her Diamond family had done to her fellow Crystal Gems.

This makes me wonder whether or not Steven was right when he called Rose a ‘coward’ in Storm in the Room (?) - Rose had already run away from her life as a Diamond consequences be damned, is it really too far-fetched to believe now that one of her goals in having Steven was to run away from her life again, this time as a Rose Quartz, consequences be damned again? Maybe! It sure is something I keep thinking about now that we’ve been given an entirely new angle on the Pink Diamond Murder Mystery.

The main reason I hated the “Rose is Pink Diamond” theory from the moment it was first proposed is that it solves the plot’s problems through sheer coincidence. Preventing a Diamond attack is easy now, just communicate to them in some form that you are the reborn version of the supposedly dead person they’re trying to avenge, and they’ll probably understand at least a little bit! Communicating that effectively is tough, yeah, but other than communication, Steven got to where he is now though luck and sheer coincidence, and that’s exactly what happens to get him out of it too!! Isn’t that fulfilling?!?!

I’m genuinely furious that we won’t get an endgame high-stakes de-escalation of the Diamonds from an ‘uninvolved’ side, because the person involved who just wants to live his life on the former Pink Diamond colony is now both ‘the rose quartz who is famous for shattering Pink Diamond’ and ‘Pink Diamond who was shattered by a rose quartz.’ So if you’re ever caught in a situation where you need to de-escalate an emotionally complicated situation from breaking out into an incredibly one-sided war of extermination, just be lucky enough to be the triple-layered one-of-a-kind physical embodiment of the thing everyone is fighting about, and everything will be A-OK!

Yes triple-layered. The only half-human-half-gem? Probably! The half-human-half-gem who was formerly the leader of a huge rebellion and managed to shatter a Diamond? Ok, we were given enough hints to that, yeah. The only half-human-half-gem who is not only literally the previous, but also the gem half is the half of a Diamond, actually, who faked her own shattering to live her life as a completely different gem and told absolutely no one besides her Pearl? Jesus christ that’s a long fucking jump, but the show gave it a real go.

I guess it was The Plan for the larger plot all along, which makes me extremely disappointed in the show from that angle. Yeah the stuff about love and understanding is good, extremely great actually, but the fact that ‘luck’ is such a key component in solving the Pink Diamond Murder Mystery makes said murder mystery feel cheap as hell.

Also I feel cheated out of a potentially fun new (old) diamond in Pink, but I guess if I ever decide to sit down and rewatch the show, knowing she was Rose all along might give me some fun things to notice.

[thedouchebrigadesympathizer]

Dude when did you suddenly become the dick guy???

I know right? First Di(ck)scussion now dick hc? I wanna revamp the Di(ck)scussion anyhow, because I have a question for all of y’all that I need answers to.

Is Dabi’s dick scarred?

Di(ck)scuss.

Because I have seen a few bnha hc mods think that, yeah, it is. but I’m like… Bro I hope not? Because? Can you imagine the pain he must have been through to have his DICK GET BURNED?

Anyhow. Toss me your theory via comments or asks, you can choose. I’ll answer after requests or while I’m working on them.

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

I would just like to have a rant--and a thought experiment. Play along with me. Because not enough people realize just how badly Vi has been traumatized. I don't really know what to call this; it's not a 'fanfic', exactly. More like a...story-scussion.

Yes, what happened to Powder/Jinx was fucking horrific. It was the worst fucking thing, it was devastating, and my heart breaks for Powder. For Jinx. For her mental health, for the way she thinks of herself, for the horrible missteps that lead to a baby, bitty child thinking she had been abandoned and forgotten after she very accidentally did something unspeakable. But what I don't think gets enough notice is that Vi is still living in that day, six years ago, has never gotten to catch her fucking breath, and frankly, got the shittier end of the stick that entire night while Jinx got the chance to go to sleep-metaphorically.

What do I mean? Let's take a blow by blow here. First, let's put ourselves in Vi's shoes. Imagine with me for a minute- settle in. This is gonna get long. You are Vi.

You did something bad. Something reckless and stupid and despite the best attempts of both yourself and your guardian figure(s), it's not getting better. You slowly start to realize that, as a person in charge of others, you have the responsibility here, and that even though you are only fourteen/fifteen years old, you know what you have to do. You have to take ownership of the mess you made. Otherwise, people you're supposed to protect, people you love, will be hurt. So you make your peace. You say your good-byes because you don't know what will happen next. You could never see them again. You could see them in a week, a year, a month. You want them to remember you gently, lovingly, as you are right now. And then you leave. You send your confession to the right people, and you wait where you told them to meet you, and you have nothing to do but sit on this. Wondering- will they hurt me? Will they kill me? Where will they take me? What will happen? Will I ever get to go home? Will I ever see my family again? Your leg jitters with anxiety. You clench and unclench your fists. You can't breathe.

Your entire world is changing. And remember; you are a child. And then you hear it. Footsteps. You take a deep breath, stand up, ready to take your lumps, when in walks- -your father. Dad. He loves you, he's raised you, he's protected and cared for and fought for your and taught you to fight for yourself your entire life. And now he's here, and he's frantic. He's scared. You've never seen him scared before. He tells you he loves you. He tells you, in his way, that he's proud of you, that you have a good heart. And you know, in the back of your mind, that he's doing what you did, but you don't want to face it, even as he bodily backs you into another room, even as he slams the door in your face and locks it. And no matter how much you pound, and yell, and call out, you can't do anything. You can't stop anything, you can't change anything. You are trapped and forced to watch as the person you love takes your chains from you and wraps them around his own arms. And as if this wasn't bad enough, the world turns upside down when, inches from you, people start dying horrifically. The adults that you know, that you love, even people you don't care about but are supposed to be strong and in control, they start dropping like flies. And it's due to something you've never seen before, something you can't even understand. And you can do nothing. You can do nothing but watch as your father's friends die, as blood smears the walls and suddenly the man who has been untouchable, invulnerable, invincible your entire life weeps, and falls, and then drops. Dead or unconscious, you don't know. And you are trapped and forced to watch. And then they're gone. They're gone, and for God knows how long you're stuck in there, trapped in there, sobbing, wailing, screaming because how could you let this happen, how did you get found out, how could you be so stupid, if you had just listened, if you had been better, been stronger, been faster, been smarter, maybe this wouldn't have happened. You are fifteen. And you sit on this. For minutes, or hours. You can't scream anymore. You don't have the energy. You weep into your knees and you wonder if you're just going to be trapped here, forever. But no. Of course not. Because one of the people who died out there, your friend, your father's friend, was a father, too. And his son is here, and his son is sobbing, and now you must push aside your guilt, your fear, your sorrow and pain because they need you. They need you. You have to be strong for them. So you slam down on it. You swallow the tears, you don't let him see because if he sees you crying it's just going to be worse for him. And then he tells you he saw it happen. He's ten, maybe eleven, and he saw all of that happen. It breaks your heart, and also it's a heavy weight, because he's yours now too, and you'll have to take care of him, keep him safe, and there's already three people you have to do that for. (Oh, yeah, and you have to tell them that their friends are dead, how the hell are you going to do that, let alone that Dad is dead, that they're on their own now, that you're all alone except for each other? ) But then he tells you that your dad might not be dead. That, in fact, he's probably alive, he's been taken somewhere. And he knows where.

And now you really don't have time to mourn. You are fifteen. You don't know anyone else to turn to. Everyone who could help you is dead. You have to be the leader. You have to make a plan. You have to keep them safe and get your dad back and keep them calm. So you shove it down harder. You push it away and you start thinking, start taking charge, getting events in motion.

And the entire time you are telling your friends what happened, the entire time you're planning and thinking, all you can remember is that last time you were in charge things literally blew up. (You don't know what the words 'recursive function' mean but if you did you'd probably laugh or cry.) And you can't break down. You can't cry, you can't curl into a ball and sob, you don't have a chest you can collapse on and weep for the people you lost. You can't take a minute to breathe, to process. You have to think about your gang, your kids, who are insisting on helping.

You have to think about how you're going to get your dad back, and keep them alive, and keep something from going horribly wrong, and what to do if something goes horribly wrong anyway. You have to think about your little sister, who wants to come, wants to help. But she's the last person you have. Your baby sister, the person you have to protect, and take care of and keep safe. You have to tell her she can't, she has to stay here, to stay safe. Your little sister, who you've been working with and working with the make her stronger, braver, to teach her to trust herself and trust you and she got so close to it and she's so ready to throw herself into the fire for you, for your dad, she's so brave and so scared and you have to crush that. After working for it for so long, you have to tell her she's not ready. You have to treat her like a child again and you can see how much it destroys her but this is the choice you have to make. Do you let her come with you, knowing you'll be distracted with fear and worry, knowing she's half the age of everyone else in your group and prone to bad choices? Or do you break down all you've worked for, strike a blow in her confidence and hope that if this goes well, if you do good, that you can build her back up again later? Hope that you can find a way to let her have been a part of this so that she doesn't think she is useless, worthless, a jinx? You are a child. And you have to make these choices, these calls, because no one else can. So now she is heartbroken, and you can hear her sobbing as you leave the place you've called home for so long with your family behind you, looking up to you, trusting you, respecting you and ready to do whatever you tell them. Whatever happens next is on your shoulders. You get to carry that thought the entire way to your father. You get to think if they die it's on me. If they get hurt it's on me. If this goes wrong, it's on me. You get to imagine scenarios over and over in your head- worst case, best case. You get to wonder if he's already dead. You get to jump at shadows, expecting someone to attack you at any moment. Expecting that thing to be roaming the streets, stalking them, looking for it's next victim.

And the whole time you have to pretend you're not scared shitless. Now you get there. You get your people in. Everything goes perfectly. Flawlessly. Too perfectly. You've been trapped. So now, while desperately worried about your father, who is alive but trapped and beaten, weak and hurting, you have to stay in control. You have to stay calm.

So even though you are scared out of your mind, you shove it down, you pull on your dad's gauntlets, and you turn to face down the man who caused all this to happen. And you start fighting, while your friends are trying to free your father. You are painfully aware you're on display as you take on all comers- desperately trying to stall, to keep them at bay, to protect your brothers, your father, but you are getting tired. You're fifteen. You have been running on adrenaline and fear for several hours now. Silco isn't kind or fair and you have been tackled, cut, held and hit, fought one on one, two on one, three on one for what feels like hours now even if it's only been minutes. You're in pain, you're exhausted, you're getting sloppy. The gauntlets are heavy. Getting up is harder every time. And the man who ordered your friend's father killed, who kidnapped your dad, is watching you with an infuriating smirk. And then, as you finally, finally beat down the last of the bodies he has to throw at you, and stand, heaving, panting, victorious, you hear the screaming, and you know with terrible, disheartened certainty that it was all for nothing. And not only that, but you finally see what it is that ripped apart your father's friends; and it's something that used to be human. Used to be a boy, only a year or two older then you. Used to be someone you knew, if only a little. He's a monster now. He's screaming, disfigured, his muscles and bones moving in ways muscles and bones aren't supposed to move, drooling and dripping purple, veined in purple, and getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger. He used to be human. You are exhausted. You're fighting to stay on your feet, you're fighting for air. But you have to keep going. So you do. But you don't stand a chance, and despite your best attempt, despite throwing everything into an attack on this thing, he catches you by the neck like you are a fly to be swatted. You black out for a minute from the force of it, and when you come to again, you can't breathe. You can't breathe, and you know, in one horrifying moment, that if this thing decides to it can kill you without trying. You are fifteen, and you are staring death directly in the face. There is nothing you can do. There is no way you can free yourself. You are going to die here. But you don't. Not because of anything you do, but because for some reason it lets you go- it toys with you, stalks you like an animal playing with prey, lets you crawl away desperately because it knows you can not get away from it. You are so scared. You are so scared but you're not allowed to be. You have to think. You have to plan. You manage to get back to your family and lock the monster outside of the room, and you know it won't hold for long but maybe, maybe, you have bought them some time. Your dad is halfway free. Your brother has nearly found a second exit. Maybe you'll be ok. "You did good." Your father says, and for a moment, just an instant, you can breathe. He sounds calmer. Better. Things will be ok. You just have to hold. This. Door. He's up. The doorframe shakes. It cracks. The monster is breaking the doorframe loose. One, maybe two more blows and it's going to go. You're fifteen. You're a child. You do not have the strength or size to stop him. But still, you push back, with all your strength, all your will. Hold. This. Door. He's up. Your brother has gotten another exit secured. He is free. You've done it. You did it!

And then the world explodes in heat and fire. When you come around, there is nothing but pain, pain, pain. You are trapped. You can't move, you can barely breathe, and the agony washes through you in waves. You can feel intense heat on your face, and everything blazes with pain and you can hear, from a million miles away, a fight. You open your eyes to see your father standing between you and the monster. Your father, defending you against monsters. He is a big man dwarfed by the beast in front of him but he's not scared. He attacks, viciously, and for a moment he looks like he might run the monster off. But then the monster throws him around like a child. As your vision comes back, you can see everything more clearly and you wish, oh how you wish you didn't. You can see your brother's arm, sticking out from under the ruble of the roof. You strain, not wanting to see but needing to see. They are completely crushed by the roof. Unmoving. Limp. They're dead. They're dead.

Your brothers, alive and well just moments ago, victorious and proud just moments ago, are dead.

They'd given you smiles.

They'd beamed with pride.

Just seconds ago you'd been about to make a smart ass comment to them, you'd been thinking how proud you were, and now your little brothers are both dead. In seconds. And you could do nothing. The sorrow breaks out of you without your permission. You want to wail, to howl with it, but even that is denied you because you can't get a full breath. Because it hurts too badly to cry. But you can't stop the tears, either. You want your dad. You want to go home. You want to go back and undo all of this. You want to die. And what's worse is your eyes land on something so familiar. So painfully familiar. Your little sister's weapon, laying inches from you. Her explosive weapon. You don't have time to process it, because even as you watch, your father picks himself up again, starts the fight again. Protecting you. Defending you. Standing between you and the danger. Fighting for you. He roars defiance, and then- -and then the man who brought you all here steps up, and stabs him. First in the back, then in the stomach. And your father falls. Dead. And you can't do anything. You can't stop it. All you can do is struggle. All you can do is desperately try to free yourself before the monster comes for you.

You are in agony, you are exhausted, and you are trapped. But you can't stay down. Your sister needs you. Your father might, somehow, still be alive. So you try. You try to pull yourself free, you strain with your 'free' arm to push yourself out, to get leverage, to do anything, but God, it hurts, and God, you are so tired. But you have to. You have to. She needs you. So you try again. And again, harder each time. But even trying your hardest, your strength has long since failed, and you make no progress, And as you work up the strength and the will to keep struggling, as you feel yourself getting the energy to keep trying, you hear the worst noise you could ever hear. Footsteps. The monster finds you. And for the second time in one night, you are totally at the mercy of someone- something- else. You have no more strength. You have no more energy. You look up into his face, and you see, for a moment, the boy only a year or two older then you. You make eye contact. You see him, and he sees you. Please, you think, please. And for a moment, he looks almost sad. Almost like he hears you. But then he snarls and the boy slips away again behind the monster. He advances. You are going to die. But you don't.

You don't, because the monster that is your father charges in and grabs him, rips him away from you, slams him up against the wall. It is not your father. It is deformed, twice as big as the first monster, twice as hideous, roaring and screaming and you listen as the two fight, like huge, ancient animals. The first monster doesn't stand a chance, though. Your father, the monster, snaps it's neck. Your father- your gentle, kind father who hated violence and never lifted a hand in anger and had a warm laugh and soft hands and big, smothering bear hugs- snaps the neck of a monster that used to be a boy. One handed.

It's not your father any more. And then he comes for you. You loved this man. You trusted this man. You adored him, and loved him. But this isn't him. This isn't your father. And the sorrow and pain in his eyes when he sees the fear and disgust in yours is palpable. He turns from you, making noises like a wounded animal, and while he's distracted going after the men outside you take the opening to try and scramble away. You can hear the thing that used to be your father roaring a name. You can feel the heat of the fire, the creak of the building.

But you can't make it to your feet. You have nothing left. You're on the edge of giving up when he comes back, the thing that used to be your father; but when you look up, all you see is your father, and you reach for him, needy, exhausted. Dad. And he scoops you up, and he flings both of you out the window- as the Goddamn building explodes. If your brothers were still alive, there is no way they are now. You hit the ground. When you come back around, a second time in less then an hour, you find your father already almost dead. He rasps out a last message, and it is nothing like the warm, loving words from before-what feels like years ago but was only hours, only this afternoon. He tells you to take care of your sister- and then he dies. No words of love. No words of affirmation. He leaves you with the responsibility you already knew you had and then he dies, there, under your hands. Now you howl. But even then, it is short, and broken, and weak compared to what you want. You're in too much pain. You're too tired. Everyone is dead. You came to save him and everyone is dead. You are alone. Your father is dead, your brothers are dead, your uncle...the only people you have left in this whole world is a little boy and your sister. You'll have to care for them. Protect them. Raise them. All alone. All by yourself. For the second time in your life, you are surrounded by destruction and fire and sobbing over the body of a dead parent. Well. At least now you have a minute, finally, finally you have a minute to breathe, to grieve. You can mourn them. You can let yourself feel the pain, work through it, rest and gather your strength. Think of what to do, what to say. Except- you don't. Because here comes your little sister.

[youngmajnoon]

i had a proper discussion with this salafi guy from school, his only interactions of shias were through social media and he would frequently be cussed out so he never got a chance to argue. i was just glad that he was straight up about his books like he told me himself all 4 imams of ahlus sunnah proclaim shias to be kuffar and he explained how my aqidah constituted of beliefs that are grounds for shirk.  [to be continued]

[meaningtotellyou]

I love your blog, who you are, how you go out of your way to involve everyone, how much you keep the energy in this fandom up, keep us together. I frequently check your blog every day, but I don't follow you because your dick-scussion traumatized me akljfkahjkgj

thank you so much for these kind words 🥺 and i’m sorry that traumatized you FDKDHSKSJ

[ashok-kumars-world]

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[desirablebabyy]

Describe the accounting for cash paid for business acquisitions in the statement of cash flows. Describe the accounting for any non-controlling subsidiary interest and any other business combination–related items in the consolidated statement of cash flows.

Describe the accounting for cash paid for business acquisitions in the statement of cash flows. Describe the accounting for any non-controlling subsidiary interest and any other business combination–related items in the consolidated statement of cash flows.

scussion Questions Download Pfizer’s 2015 annual report (search for Pfizer Investor Relations). Locate the firm’s consolidated statement of cash flows and answer the following items: Does the firm employ the direct or indirect method of accounting for operating cash flows? Why does the firm account for the changes in balances in operating accounts (e.g., accounts receivable, inventory, and…

[formerly-haunted]

Describe the accounting for cash paid for business acquisitions in the statement of cash flows. Describe the accounting for any non-controlling subsidiary interest and any other business combination–related items in the consolidated statement of cash flows.

Describe the accounting for cash paid for business acquisitions in the statement of cash flows. Describe the accounting for any non-controlling subsidiary interest and any other business combination–related items in the consolidated statement of cash flows.

scussion Questions Download Pfizer’s 2015 annual report (search for Pfizer Investor Relations). Locate the firm’s consolidated statement of cash flows and answer the following items: Does the firm employ the direct or indirect method of accounting for operating cash flows? Why does the firm account for the changes in balances in operating accounts (e.g., accounts receivable, inventory, and…

[acemywriter]

week 3 dis 2

week 3 dis 2

scussion Questions Download Pfizer’s 2015 annual report (search for Pfizer Investor Relations). Locate the firm’s consolidated statement of cash flows and answer the following items: Does the firm employ the direct or indirect method of accounting for operating cash flows? Why does the firm account for the changes in balances in operating accounts (e.g., accounts receivable, inventory, and…