#she wanted to protect yuri from the violence of war and the state but.... she couldn't

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

it hurts that yor became an assassin to protect yuri's innocence and carefree life and imagine when she finds out that in the end, she couldn't protect it, because he's a part of the state security service.

the Reveals will obviously be very angsty but the one that will probably hurt the most are yor finding out what the people she loves the most (anya, yuri, and even twilight) had to go through. and she couldn't protect them. she didn't even know twilight (or [redacted] and anya when all those things happened to them, but she takes it upon herself to protect the people she loves so fiercely— it's literally the reason she's an assassin. and when she finds out it's all in vain...

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Siren & The Healer (8)

Natasha Romanoff arc

Chapter 8: The Raven Haired Man

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader (soulmates?)

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: alcohol, dreams, shock, love, lots of PDA

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

Word Count: Will I ever be able to find love?

MASTERLIST in bio, love

“Identification.”

“Alianovna. I’m here to see your boss.”

The six and a half feet tall muscled giant looked down at the redhead with emotionless eyes, not making an effort to move even his eyelids.

“The boss isn’t in,” he finally huffed out, eyeing you standing behind the assassin.

“Really, Krugo? Do you want to tell your boss you made her wife walk away from right outside her door?”

Natasha could feel your eyes go wide with a muted gasp barely escaping your lungs. “You are-” you tried to hold the excitement within, balancing your voice- “married. Cool! Very cool! Cool cool cool cool cool cool!”

“Boss’ wife had promised me cookies,” Krugo muttered under his breath.

Natasha smirked and you felt the need to come into full view of the bodyguard with a huge box in your hand. “This must be for you then,” you declared, opening the lid to show huge chocolate chip cookies waiting to be devoured.

Krugo watched the bounty intensely before breaking into a smile. “You never forget.”

“Of course not, Krugo,” Natasha acknowledged with a hug for the cute giant, who went ahead and opened the door for her and you to be let in.

“How do you balance your-” you flailed your hands in the air for the shortage of words for what you were experiencing- “work and personal life?”

Natasha kept walking down the dark corridor till she was at the door marked ‘Restricted entrance’, turning the knob to open it for the both of you. “It’s not that hard when you and your partner are in the same line of business,” she put it mildly before directing you to walk inside the room equipped with monitors, recorders, IR boxes and whatnot. And in the midst of it all stood a woman with her arms across the chest and her demeanour that declared she ran the goddamn place without even saying it.

“Rosa,” the assassin greeted her wife with a tone dipped in the morning dew and spread all over the skin with the utmost tenderness by the lover.

Rosa was an entire world in herself from where you stood. Her soft curls ending from the raven hair into golden brown ends framing her face perfectly. Her lips wore a mocha shade- soft and notoriously sexy at the same time- while everything else was bare. She was dressed in a black blouse over blue jeans being complimented by a black leather jacket and for the second time in one day, you were starting to question your orientation.

“Tasha,” Rosa greeted back- her heavy voice a strong declaration in itself- taking a step towards her wife, bringing her hands to settle on her waist before running up her back as she kissed her. You pretended to find a coffee mug on the table interesting to give the wives some privacy till Natasha made introductions.

“Are we adopting her?” Rosa casually spewed while opening beer bottles for the guests. Natasha burst in giggles while you stood there confused.

“I am an adult,” you stressed, “a full-blown adult, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Beer, adult?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’d prefer something stronger with the kind of day I’ve had.”

Rosa smirked and you could see the same movements that you saw in Natasha when she first had a conversation with you. She was already studying you up and down. “I’m sorry I have to ask because curiosity is killing me. Are you a black widow too?”

Rosa took a sip of her beer while Natasha sat in her wife’s chair and looked at her with her fingers resting on her lips and other hand caressing the beer bottle in her hand- looking like a human struck with love for the very first time.

“I was,” Rosa stated, sitting down on the table, one leg dangling, “but I got out of the system early and made my way through the world till I settled here. For now. Currently, I’m a Detective and a home-made jewellery maker. What about you?”

“I’m supposed to be studying Artificial Intelligence, Data Science and Networks but I’m currently at crossroads with my career decisions and have a couple of nicely suited hitmen chasing me for reason unknown. Your wife says it’s something to do with some ancient weapon that someone might have told me about. But all things ancient- especially the secrets- that I’ve been told about are either violent, racist or incredibly sexist in nature. And none of them mentions any ancient weapons to take out modern Nazis or that creepy guy who keeps calling your wife a...a...what was that word?”

“Rusalka,” Natasha helped, making Rosa’s head whip in her direction with her eyes going wide.

“I thought he was dead!” Natasha shrugged at her wife's reaction.

“Why does he keep calling you a mermaid?” you were genuinely interested in knowing the history there.

“He’s actually calling me a siren when he uses that term,” Natasha mentioned matter-of-factly. Rosa shifted from the table to a chair beside Natasha, taking her arm in her own, letting her fingers entangle slowly to rub away whatever stress she could. “He has always called me that. Ever since we were kids.”

“...because you lured enemies with songs?” You tried to guess.

“Because I was made into a weapon who would lure the enemies with the illusion of becoming what they desired the most. A damsel in distress they could dominate, an invisible records keeper they could blurt out their secrets to, a useless spy they would share their plans with because they had big egos, a lover, a widow, a victim, an object of pleasure, a friend, a keeper. It’s really not that hard to deceive men. I mean, so was every other black widow.”

Your furrowed brows took everything in for those two seconds of silence. “Yeah, the mermaid thing makes sense if every widow was a siren. Mermaids are pretty badass too. On top it a Russian Mermaid? I mean-” you ended the sentence by mimicking an explosion in the head.

Rosa chuckled. “I like her,” she muttered into Natasha’s shoulder before turning to you, “have a drink at the bar. On the house. Tell them my name. And if anyone tries to mess with you tell them they rather mind their business if they don’t want to end up like Damon. They’ll know what it means.”

“Cool!” you exclaimed before going back out into the club, leaving the two lovebirds to finally get some alone time to themselves. Rosa took the opportunity to drag Natasha into the couch with her, wrapping her in her arms and cuddling with her; showering her with kisses till she could feel her wife’s shoulders let go of the stress they had been holding throughout the day.

“Tell me what’s going on, Tasha,” she softly spoke into her ears while Natasha played with Rosa’s hair.

“Whoever Yuri is working with is after Keosha. At first, the theory was that she knows something or has something to do with the weapon Hydra is after. But I’m starting to question that after she saved me from falling debris by just placing her hands under it.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Rosa, she was making chunks of rocks float! When I asked her she said this had happened for the first time. She said she was taught this old Japanese art of healing where the force of the universe is used to heal and protect things. She said when she saw me trapped and about to be hit by the falling ceiling the force worked like an adrenaline rush and she blocked it. Well, the force blocked it. That’s what she kept saying. That she’s just a medium and the force was doing all of it.”

“Weird but okay. Go on.”

“So, Nakia went-oh, she’s-”

“I know who she is. Go on.”

Natasha raised her brows at Rosa, turning her face up a little to be caught off guard by the little peck that came on her forehead. “Nakia talked to her sources and confirmed that there is an existence of monks in Japan who practise this form of healing and are said to take on anyone as a student who is willing to learn. And often in the past, they have experienced a short surge of that...thing to protect people during floods or some catastrophic events. In comparison, what happened today was nothing.”

“Okay. So, if she’s a noob in this healing thing, she won’t be of much use as a weapon to Yuri.”

“Right?”

“Maybe her teacher or someone like that is connected to the weapons?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. The last time the weapon was nearly in Hydra’s hand was in India. Keosha grew up in India till her father moved to Japan with her. Then she was between countries and continents for a while. If they had to come all the way for her, it could mean that the weapon wasn’t that country anymore. Or the person connected to it. And Keosha seems to be the only key.”

Natasha loved the rise of Rosa’s chest when she sighed, the former burying herself in that warmth and closing her eyes. “Looks like you have your work cut out for you, shortcake,” Rosa hummed, stroking those fiery strands to put her love at ease. “Hmm,” Natasha replied, breathing in the familiar scent of cocoa coming from Rosa’s chest, “I do. But for now, I’d rather lay here in your arms.”

.

The club was lit in a golden glow off the walls with a dance floor separated from the bar with a decent sitting arrangement right in the middle that faced the stage for occasional performances. You enjoyed tonight’s performance by someone who went by the name Serena with a Long Island in your hand and another on its way. It was relaxing, the serenade of the sweet voice mixed with whatever incense was burning inside this place to make it smell so good. Wonder what Rosa’s looking for in such a place. 

“Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

You had jumped at the voice being so close to you before turning around to see a man leaning on the bar, next to you, almost at the edge of invading your personal space.

“I have one, thanks,” you politely declined, going back to enjoy the performance.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” the man continued, stepping closer this time to raise all the alarms in your body, “let’s take a corner and get to know each other a little.”

Your brows crinkled hard and turned to face him. “I’m sorry, are you hard of hearing? Or is something wrong with your sight?” The man did not know what to say so you continued. “Are you sure you can hear clearly? Because I just said no. And if that doesn’t suffice, do I look like someone who would be ready to bang the first person she sees in the club?”

The man made incoherent noises like a lost ostrich, not sure what to say. “She’s wearing a Hello Kitty t shirt with baggy jeans to a club, man. How could she not be more obvious?!”

“Yes! Thank you!” you acknowledged the other voice next to you, turning to see a middle aged man with a french goatee and shaded glasses nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks that were raised in your direction.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking?” the man shot his head back a little with a shade of confusion as he looked at you. You could not help but notice the expensive blue suit he wore to tell you he wasn’t some low life, unlike the other guy who made himself scarce as soon as the embarrassment hit him.

“Aren’t you too old to be wearing glasses inside a club?” you hit back, raising your glass to clink his.

“No, but seriously,” he continued after taking a sip of his whiskey, “you look too young. Hey, Marvin, did you check her ID? Did you come here alone?”

“Oh my G-”

“What! This isn’t a place for kids. Wait, are you safe? Are you in some kind of danger? Look at me. Look at me. Blink twice if you’re being used by some shady peeps for some shady businesses.”

An eye contest later- which this man lost- you finally spoke. “I’m fine. I’m here with a friend. And I am an adult. So, do you mind if I have my drink in peace?”

He raised his hands in peace and went back to his own drink.

A long satisfying sip later, something started bugging you. “Have we met before?”

“Me?” The man asked just to be sure. “You? I'm sure I would've remembered Hello Kitty."

You kept staring at him till your brain hurt. "Ugh! I swear I feel like I've seen you somewhere. But for some reason, you seem much...younger?"

The man feels his head jolt and his eyes nearly pop out. "You mean I was younger when we met? Allegedly."

"No. I mean when we met, you seemed old and...and wrinkled and definitely tired. Like dead tired."

Before he could say anything, he got caught in your eyes searching for something on his shoulder. "What."

"Is your arm okay?" You poked him over his blazer, making him smack yours away.

"Hey! My arm's okay. Don't touch me!"

"Huh...maybe it was someone else then?" You stared at his arm for a while before giving up. "You don't seem like the type to suit up in some weird funky suit anyways."

The man's back went straight as an arrow. "Okay, listen, young lady. One, no one wears and pulls off suits like me. Two, there hasn't been any mofo born who can do it like me. And three, why are we still talking?"

"Oh, I'm sitting here because you're giving off such a dad vibe that no douchebag has come over to offer me a drink. And you're sitting here because you are waiting for someone that clearly hasn't shown up yet," you concluded, popping a peanut in your mouth before taking a good sip of your Tea.

"Phone Call for you, Mr Stark." The bartender drove a metaphorical sword through the whole conversation with a wireless phone in his hand.

"Looks like you a busy man, Mr Stark. See ya later."

"Hey," the man addressed as Stark called out for you when you left your seat at the bar, "you better not be running into trouble, kid."

You guffawed, trying to hold your stomach to not barf any of the liquor you just had. "Thanks for the advice, dad, but it looks like trouble is kinda my thing now."

With that last salutation, you tried to make your way back to wherever you came from- your drunken brain trying to make sense of the passageways that appeared in front of you.

In those very passageways you tried to make sense of dreams- the ones that reluctantly came to you- and some unrelated memories that somehow always found its way to mingle with the present, no matter where you were, what you were doing; there always seemed to be ghosts of the past revolving around you, questioning your existence.

“Stark,” Your tongue repeated that name, time and again, like some forgotten flavour wanting to be revisited by your brain forcefully. Oh...only if you knew. Only if you knew.

I have to go to the loo. Where the fuck is the fucking loo?! It was a nightmare for two minutes before you finally found the door with the engravings shouting out “female” before you ran in and shut the door behind you and let the dams break as soon as the mirror showed you your sweet face.

You knew it was just the drinks but the feelings inside you poured themselves out, trying to find an outlet they could before they were shut down.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck is happening?! I never asked for this?! What the fuck is happening?! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh Fuck! Why am I crying? Why am I CRYING?!!”

As if to answer your prayers behind those closed eyes, you saw a green pair of eyes looking straight at you with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. “You are stronger than you give yourself credit for,” they announced in your direction, forcing you to get up and find your way. And so you did.

Turning the knob you barged into that one room you knew was safe.

“WE HAVE TO FIND MY MASTER, NAT! SHE’S IN JAPAN!”

It was one of those moments when- even though you were proud of yourself, you did not want to live anymore, thanks to the peak of drunkenness you were currently swimming in. The flush of heat in your cheek was proof enough to drive you out when you saw Natasha and Rosa busy in...having the time of their life.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” you nearly felt yourself cry before bowing to the host and running outside, never remembering Krugo leading you to the VVIP lounge where the Stark guy let you sleep with your head on his lap while he waited for the news on his friend and gently patted you to sleep while constantly cursing himself and calling his girlfriend to ask what to do in case of a drunken kid sleeping in his lap.

.

Loki woke up with a headache- a low compensation for what he had experienced right before he had been tormented into a coma.

“What happened?”

Though the question was a genuine throwback from his end, it irritated the hell out of the sisters who had tried to mend the biggest crises of their lives seconds ago.

“You hit your head and went into a coma” Nebula narrated with ease and patience fit for a storyteller of the ancient times. “Here, drink this,” she offered him some water.

Loki, reluctant to be deceived by any more mind tricks, observed the water in Nebula’s hands before being convinced it was safe to drink.

“Why are we even helping him?” Loki heard Gamora utter those words before being given a judgmental stare by her sister to quiet down and let her take the lead.

“Are you alright?” the younger one asked the God with genuine concern in those beady eyes as she wiped away the blood from the wound slowly healing in Loki’ head.

Loki did not give a convincing answer before drowning- once again- in the maze of the leftover chaotic flashbacks he was witnessing of some life unknown- something different to his own existence before he regained control of his presence; his true present.

“I’m fine,” he finally blurted out, his hands still grasping onto the metal rod in the ship that was helping him maintain his equilibrium. “Where’s the loo?”

Even though it was satisfying for the entire spaceship for the moment, it wasn’t sufficient for him. He walked with a pretentious walk towards the loo before locking the door behind him as he tried to balance his mind. His fingers was digging into his temple while he was trying to get to the root of whatever he had been witnessing- the incoherent cries, tumbling buildings, fast-paced heartbeats, chaos and whatnot till he was focused on those y/e/c eyes reflecting the cheap lights of some shady dancefloor till they were mixed in them, dancing and mingling with them right till the second a heavy voice rang in your ears. “We have to get you to a safe place.” If it weren’t for the emergency, Loki’s subconscious was sure of having already mingled with the sweet poison that was those eyes and be lost in them.

.

You were sure you had cried. Cried while Natasha and Rosa tried to get you out of the club and to the plane waiting for you by the edge of the city, You were pretty sure Aneka wanted to throw you out of the jet if weren’t for Natasha and Nakia holding her back, asking you to drink water after every thirty minutes.

“Where are we going?” Your teary, subconscious state asked Nakia.

“Japan,” she answered before she was content that you had ample amount of water and that Aneka was at a considerable distance from you as possible. For now.

“Who is that guy with that long, black, sexy hair?” you asked a genuinely confused Natasha.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about sweetie” were the last words you heard before slumber took over everything in this dark world.

[kj1966-blog]

The main reason why I don’t like Political Correctness is that it has an ability to silence the truth.

I don’t have any proof but I suspect that political correctness was created by those who came from the middle of nowhere and camouflaged themselves as a living fragment of so-called High Society.

Somehow they managed to sell their hypersensitive attitude as highly refined manners. I assume that it was their defence against a sharp and truthful sense of humour.

Since fake individuals, in general, do not have a sense of humour, this camouflage protected them from being exposed.

At one point fake individuals realized that people buy their fiction. Therefore, they embark on an aggressive promotion campaign began to aggressively promote the idea that for the sake of “right” attitude it must be not acceptable to say anything which contains razor-sharp truth.

To support this view, fake individuals said that we must be respectful to those for whom such truth is nothing but pain.

It seems that it was their second victory which boosted fake people’s confidence and accelerated the growth of Political Correctness’ dominance.

What people failed to understand is that there is no such thing as High Society. Because if there is High Society, there must be Low Society. People who admire artificially created terms, cannot see that they are those who represent Low Society.

Only people with low self-esteem would accept it.

If we look back a few things, besides the fact that we went through “wear & tear” process, look very different today.

In the 60s and 70s, the world of entertainment was filled with enormously talented people.

As soon as we heard the first chords, we found out who was singing. Even today those songs are very relevant and appeal to people of all generations. Deep Purple, Lets Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Tina Turner, Cher, Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles and many more.

But even the 80s and the 90s were represented by a number of talented people: Madonna, Michael Jackson (he became famous earlier but to me, he symbolizes the 80s, Prince, Whitney Houston, and many others.

What about cinematography? Doctor Zhivago, Easy Rider, Guess Who’s Comming To Dinner, Psycho and zillion more. Truly talented actors who are stilled loved by people around the world.

The same goes for literature: The Master and Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov; The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Eric Carle; Catch-22, Joseph Heller; The Crying of Lot 49, Thomas Pynchon; Ragtime, E.L.Doctorow and many more.

And it was not only about entertainment or literature. So many other incredible events happened during that period: Yuri Gagarin becomes the first human being to travel into space. Apollo 11 blasted off on July 16, 1969. Neil Armstrong, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin and Michael Collins were the astronauts on Apollo 11 and four days later, Armstrong and Aldrin landed on the moon.

And, of course, it would be a crime against humanity not to mention remarkable personalities who are the face of that period of time. Rosa Louise Parks, although it happened in 1955 when she refused to surrender her seat to a white male passenger on a Montgomery, Alabama bus, it would be not fair not to mention her because her heroic actions triggered a wave of protest. Martin Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela.

Andrei Sakharov, a Soviet Union’s nuclear physicist, dissident, and activist for disarmament, peace and human rights. He played a key role in the development of the first megaton-range Soviet hydrogen bomb using a design known as Sakharov’s Third Idea in Russia and the Teller–Ulam design in the United States. But when he realized the scale of the danger his creation represents he condemned Soviet development of thermonuclear weapons faced state persecution; these efforts earned him the Nobel Peace Prize in 1975.

Boeing 747 100 First Flight

Many other events happened during that time, including the Boeing 747 is an American wide-body commercial jet airliner and cargo aircraft, often referred to by its original nickname, “Jumbo Jet”, the world’s most recognizable aircraft and it was the first wide-body produced. Since its first commercial flight on January 21, 1970, with Pan Am, the 747 has dominated the wide-body market for 37 years.

The main point is that people were well read and well-informed. They were politically active. It doesn’t mean that they dd not know how to have fun because they were boring. Actually, it was quite opposite. They knew how to have fun. And fun they had :).

But people also knew how to balance their social life with their obligations as citizens.

On October 21, 1967, one of the most prominent anti-war demonstrations took place. After a brutal confrontation with the soldiers and U.S. Marshals protecting the building, hundreds of demonstrators were arrested.

Also in 1967, the anti-war movement got a big boost when the civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. went public with his opposition to the war on moral grounds, condemning the war’s diversion of federal funds from domestic programs as well as the disproportionate number of African-American casualties in relation to the total number of soldiers killed in the war.

Joining the anti-war demonstrations by this time were members of the organization Vietnam Veterans Against the War, many of whom were in wheelchairs and on crutches. The sight of these men on television throwing away the medals they had won during the war did much to win people over to the anti-war cause.

Tensions ran higher than ever, spurred on by mass demonstrations and incidents of official violence such those at Kent State in May 1970, when National Guard troops shot into a group of protesters demonstrating against the U.S. invasion of Cambodia, killing four students.

In mid-1971, the publication of the first Pentagon Papers–which revealed previously confidential details about the war’s conduct. More and more Americans questioned the accountability of the U.S. government. In response to a strong anti-war mandate, Nixon announced the effective end to U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia in January 1973. Nixon’s resignation was also possible only because of the public pressure.

Then things started to change. Without going much into details, I assume that the process of decline started when the balance between citizens’ obligation and time to have fun has been disturbed.

On August 1, 1981, history was made when MTV, the first 24-hour video music channel, launched onto our television sets and literally changed our lives with the birth of the music video.

Although reality TV was first introduced in the 1940s, it didn’t really take off until 1990s when it became popular and it’s popularity continues with accelerating speed. Perhaps reality TV had to wait so long because people were intellectually developed. Smart people wouldn’t want to spend hours of their own life watching how other people enjoy theirs. But by 1990, the public was already prepared for it.

As far as I recall, this was the time when High Society reached the peak of its popularity. People who perceived as representatives of High Society automatically became stars.

Although I must say that to me, these individuals are more like bulbs 20w under powerful lights at a scene during the shooting of reality TV episodes rather than stars. They simply have no ability to reach those heights for them to be called stars.

Reality TV produced Paris Hilton, the first woman who became famous for nothing. I guess that obsession with material stuff started to rise about the same time.

As far as I recall, this was the time when High Society reached the peak of its popularity.

The number of incredible movies started to decline as well. More and more movies about artificial intelligence, distant future or worlds as well as absolutely meaningless creations which show that laws of physics are no longer apply, gradually started to replace movies about us, humans, our issues, our worries, emotions, tragedies and happy moments.

I think that even comedians have changed. The last Great Comedian of 20th and 21st Centuries, in my opinion, was Joan Rivers.

The only one who can stand close to her is Kathy Griffin. But we all know what fake people did to her. They punished her for not committed a crime. Her entire crime was that he caused pain to hypersensitive idiots.

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Entertainment is no longer entertaining. Many signers have little talent. They sound the same, look the same.

Songs lyrics are hard to call lyrics. One of them worth to mention.

DJ Aligator – The Whistle Song … Blow my whistle, baby Blow my whistle, baby open up and put it in Let’s begin Blow it like you mean it, blow Let me hear ya say, woo-woo Louder, woo-woo Let me hear ya say, woo-woo Louder, woo-woo Is that what you call loud?

I was driving when I heard it for the first time and I barely escaped collision with a car in front of me. I couldn’t believe what I hear. It is a song about a blowjob! Aired on RADIO!!!

If previously people admired their idols, today idols are being worshipped. There is a big difference between admiration and obsession. Admiration is healthy and obsession is nothing but mental obesity.

Same goes for literature. It is difficult to imagine that Fifty Shades of Grey could have got so much media attention in the 60s or the 70s. Because then people knew what is love and what is not.

***

The process of deterioration progressed incredibly slow and properly marketed. Therefore, it could be the reason why it went undetected on for a while.

I assume that the first alarming sings started to pop us in 2001 after tragic events in New York when under a cover of the war on terror civil liberties of American people started to shrink.

Truth is seldom looking good. Very often it is so ugly that even Donald Trump would look not so bad compared to the truth.

But despite its ugly appearance, the truth delivers a very important message. The truth tries to warn us about troubles ahead.

Instead of being scared o its appearance, we should treat truth like our closest friend.

Meanwhile, we also need to show Political Correctness in a very polite manner how to get to the door.

POLITICAL CORRECTNESS SHOULDN’T BE CONFUSED WITH GOOD MANNERS BECAUSE IT IS CAPABLE TO SILENCE THE TRUTH: Therefore, SCREW Political Correctness. (Half True & Half Fiction) The main reason why I don't like Political Correctness is that it has an ability to silence the truth.