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ybhanrui · 4 years

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so heres me again... scribbling through my thoughts about #TheGiftedEP6 i re-learned how to upload pictures now

i have a huge amount of love for Pang ever since because of his character thats why my initial reaction to everything that happens is how will this affect him. i can't even fathom the pain he's going through. seeing everything go down and blaming himself.

i actually have a lot of thoughts more to process

but let me just prioritize Pang. he has this big responsibility in his shoulders and he always felt like he needed to do something for him and he's loved ones. the one who wears the crown, must bear its weight. it breaks my heart to see him down and feel so helpless. he has a lot in his plate with people really depending on him. he didnt want to be the leader/catalyst, but he did everything--more than what he can offer. please, be strong, Pang. hang in there.

second, GUN ATP ACADEMY AWARDS. this and the last EP really explained how trust can easily be ruined and how mistrust from each other can create destruction within the system. Khun Darin was a snake in her own. She took advantage of the growing doubt between the XV and purposely used Punn to start the division. She knew Punn’s abilities and though Punn was able to withstand her in the first part when he said something like “Whatever Parawet says”, the growing doubt and mistrust within the group fuel the fire for Punn to eventually fall to Khun Darin’s trap. While my friend and I watched the part when Pang didnt disclose his plan with Punn, i knew that its gonna spark the push needed for Punn to really switch. And also his potential is on a heat because of his fight with Claire - the piece that has been holding back all of his other personalities. I get Punn tho, Pang couldve really just tell but I also get the internal feud between the boys and girls in which Pang is in the centerpoint. Pang was placed in a very diff situation.

third, FIAT ANGELO ANOTHER ACADEMY AWARDS. god the look of pure evil and no regrets get me every time. he was smiling like he didnt just stab Punn and gassed all his friends. the smile mom. he’s insanely good. okay, now for his reasons, do I get some part of what his point was, the totality doesnt really sit well. his method was really wrong and he wanted something radical but wrong. he wasnt satisfied with the system as it is thats why he wanted to alienate what he thought was the problem. you see the thing is, the system was the problem that Pang wanted to fix from the inside. But Korn wanted to remove something from the system which would create an imbalance nature. I hate Korn, his betrayal, and ideals so much but NOT the point of him dying jesus no--- not like that.

next. an important part. aside from answering some of the mysteries, it was so nice and warm to know that Chanon was watching over them silently all along. and how the gifted juniors sparked a need for change in society. the gifted is really a family. it was like Chanon was this guardian angel looking at them from a far and ready to come and rescue (just like this) when its necessary. i really love this part. and can i just emphasize, his talk with Pang on CHANGE was very timely. and boi the relief i felt when some of the theories and unanswered questions were already finally explained. its been really hard to walk in a dark road and not knowing what you're finding. this shed some light to why are they doing what they doing.

it also makes it a lot easier for us to process and digest things when you actually know whats going on

another one, tf you mean Time is dead? No that doesnt make sense to me. He isn’t dead, i can feel it. Theres no body or anything so no he cant be. We’re not having 2 gifted dead students here just to frame up Director Suport and force his resignation so the Minister and Darin could enter. no that aint it. i have my theories, which includes ‘Time’ and Wave. But let see where this goes.

last, and please. my darling Wave. Wave, sweetie, I know you're angry, confused, and hurt but please trust Pang on this. He has his reasons you know he does. This is a lot for you also but please don't leave Pang. You were always his shoulder and support system. He needs you most now.

#the gifted #the gifted graduation #gmm25 #gmmtv #fuck gifted #the gifted season 2 #thai series #parbdee

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doctor-bruce-banner · 6 years

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Bruce likes to catalog his thoughts into neat little folders, bits of shorthand that can help him call up the vast compendiums of knowledge in his mind. Here are a few.

Book and Bottle -

Bruce always thinks of his mother like a book. The best kind of book, unassuming cover, worn just enough on the edges. A book that didn't look like much on the outside. Faded, you know, maybe a little used up looking, like the way even as a little boy he could see the deep creases in his mother's face, so like the deep creases in the binding of a used book.

But its the inside that really counts. And the inside is beautiful. Bruce always thinks the pages smell beautiful, that special kind of book dust. Books always have secrets between the pages, and his mother was like that. She looked worn but then you came close and she smelled like those little blue flowers that grew just outside the house, and she had secrets in her pockets. Sometimes it was those little hard candies from the five cent bin at the store, and sometimes it was a shiny, flat stone that's good for skipping, or a little coil of wire she found somewhere that Bruce might like to use on one of his little creations.

When he was hurt, his mother would pull out her first aid book, the tears standing in her eyes but never spilling over, and point out things to Bruce on the pages. How to tie a sling with a triangle of fabric. How to set a broken finger and what kind of plants to break open and put on a burn. She told him all of it, asking him to look down at the pages while she put the ointment on the place where his father had whacked him with the belt again. Or she would make him learn the muscles, and repeat them back from head to toe while she stitched up whatever gash his father had left on him, again, again, again.

And when times were better, his mother would take him by the hand and lead him out by the lake that was a few minutes car ride away, and they would sit in the shade and she would read him poems and ask what he thought of them. He was a little kid, Bruce didn't think much of poems, but he loved the way his mother read them, and was so enraptured he'd steal her books away to read them over and over by himself until he thought they made sense. And she would laugh, and laugh, and smile there by the lake with her little book of poems in her hand.

His mother was plain on the outside but beautiful on the inside and Bruce loves her so fiercely it hurts. He doesn't even blame her for all the ways she couldn't protect him, he didn't then and he doesn't now. His mother is every one of his favorite books, but most of all it's the book of Emily Dickinson poems she loved. Bruce pressed a few of those little blue flowers between the pages. It was long gone now, lost to him forever when he'd had to start running. But he thinks of that book, and it's the image of his mother, laughing.

When Bruce thinks of his father, he thinks of a bottle. Nothing fancy or special, just those plain dark brown bottle of the cheap beer, whatever was on sale. They are uniform and ugly, color of shit. There was nothing solid about them either. They looked sturdy enough but they fell to pieces at the least bit of pressure, turning into sharp little slivers that cut you to ribbons but made you feel stupid about it too because it was just some fucking cheap ass glass. There's something angry about them too, or maybe that was just what Bruce thought. Thin neck and wide bottom, and the way his father would stand them up in rows like an army standing at attention, ready to be used when his old man got his ire up and started tossing them around like the little grenades they were.

His father acted strong, but he was weak too. Everyone could smell the stench of it on him too, like the stench that having all of those bottles around gave the house that sick old booze smell. And he fell to pieces over and over again, and he got those little slivers of his broken self sharpened into shivs and he stabbed them both over and over and over again, but it never made him any stronger. His father was just like every other ugly, mean drunk, and Bruce hated him all the more for it. He still sees his father in every one of those bottles and it turns his stomach every time.

But what he hates his father for the most, in his deepest heart, in every nightmare he ever had, was how sometimes he didn't hate him at all. When he got good and drunk, halfway between sober and mean, that little middling ground where he was just dopey, and if he decided to stay there, he'd show Bruce how light refracted through the bottles, playing over them with a candle, or he'd make the empty bottles into air horns and Bruce remembers how delighted he'd been the first time he'd heard it, and the kind of strange love that had bubbled up in his chest. One time, just once, but oh God it's the thing Bruce thinks about the most... One time his father had taken his hand and pulled him out back, sneaking, and they'd picked wild flowers in big bunches, setting them up in his father's old beer bottles and lined the whole kitchen with them while his mother was napping. His mother had been so pleased when she woke up, so surprised, she had color on her cheeks, and was smiling so bright it made her look so much younger. And his father had smiled too. At her. Bright and young.

That's what haunts Bruce at night, and still does. That smile on his father's face, because he'd seemed so human. So human and so in love. His father shouldn't get to be both that and the monster he was. Not at the same time. That, more than the abuse, even more, in some ways, than the fact that he killed her, is what keeps the rage burning deep and hot in Bruce's gut.

( the night he kills her, when Bruce can't look at the blood spreading on the floor anymore, he looks up and sees that his mother wedged one of her romance novels between the beer bottles lining the kitchen window, the flowers inside them wilting, shedding petals like tears )

Beaker -

Bruce learned very quickly that he couldn't trust his emotions. Every one of them but pain seemed so fleeting, so he only truly trusted things when they hurt. He didn't know there was anything he could trust as much as he trusted the pain that seemed stitched into every part of him. The scars on his flesh and the ones on his heart were the only things that ever felt real.

But that was before he found science. That was before Mr. Koats stood before his class and showed them that matter could not be created or destroyed, that it could change shape and property, but it was always there. There was water vapor in the air and sometimes it came down as rain, and sometimes it came down as snow, but it was always there, little bundles of hydrogen and oxygen, bound together by even smaller particles called electrons.

He found that he could trust math, that numbers were immutable, numbers didn't change they were just affected by things, you could add and subtract and multiply, but 2 was always 2 and 524 was always 524 and pi was always pi, always always forever. You could manipulate numbers in any way you wanted, but when you looked at them they were what they were every single time.

Bruce read every book he could get his hands on, poured himself into every one of them, every flavor of science he could. It was all real, and solid. They were facts and figures and proof and experiments all towards finding something essential, something that was true, period. Real truth. Something that could really be trusted. Fact through and through and though.

No matter how he felt, no matter how much he wanted to cry or rage, no matter how much he thought about ending everything, himself, those guys in the playground that always smashed his glasses, the whole school, the whole world... No matter what thoughts drifted past his troubled mind, two hydrogens and one oxygen made water, and 6 was 6 was 6, and human bodies ran on ATP produced by millions of mitochondria in millions of cells, and someday, if he was clever, he would find something deep in all of these little tiny things, these true things, that made up the world and find a way to make it better.

And if he could make the world better, then maybe he wouldn't have to feel anything anymore, and honestly, that's what Bruce wanted more than anything.

Bandage -

When he came to, Bruce felt a raw, dull ache at the roof of his mouth, and he felt more helpless than he'd ever felt in his whole life. And he'd made a business of being helpless. "You won't even let me die," he muttered to himself over and over again in those minutes. The ache was there, but there wouldn't be a scar. Or blood, or anything. Just the reminder of the ache, like some phantom limb pain of the harm that should be there but shouldn't.

Bruce never really knew what the Other Guy was up to, not clearly, but he could feel it when he woke up. The things that should hurt. Not that the Other Guy really got injured, but Bruce could feel the pressure from where bullets had hit and gone flying off, could feel that very rare times when something actually cut that thick flesh of his. The first time that had happen, he'd actually felt like he was bleeding somewhere and scrambled for something to staunch the flow. But he'd looked and there was nothing. Just normal, natural flesh.

It wasn't like he did it on purpose, but he'd notice that the little minor cuts and scrapes and bruises he'd get before the Other Guy came out were just miraculously gone when Bruce was himself again. All brand new. He wondered if the Other Guy ever thought about that. How nothing that happened to them ever seemed to last. It was like a big cosmic reset button, and Bruce would be lying if he didn't play fast and lose with it for awhile, and he'd always been half in the grave with a death wish anyway. ( yes mom I'm coming home, no dad I'll never turn into you never never never can't do it if I'm dead )

What doesn't change though. The things that stay. Bruce still has scars, the old ones. The ones that turned white and ropy and smooth, every single one of them a relic from his father. No matter how many other things are wiped away, even death. Even death is wiped away and these things stay and stay, and it's that thought that bring Bruce closer to the edge more than once, even after that night when the bullet didn't work. He's been marked for life with these, these have been saved for him, for some reason, and Bruce can't think it's anything more than to just bring him more pain and rage, just enough to keep that Other Guy living strong in the recesses of his mind.

( Betty used to touch them and ask, wanting to know what each one was and Bruce would pretend he didn't hear her until she insisted and he told her. He always felt dirty after, even after she kissed the scar and told him it was all okay now because it really wasn't. Natasha won't ask. Bruce knows she won't, because she has her own scars and he won't ask about hers either. Sometimes it's enough to just be broken together. Sometimes that's everything. )

#task001 #child abuse tw #suicide mention tw #//this is nice and long and full of feelings hello

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marilynngmesalo · 5 years

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Zverev beats Djokovic, becoming ATP Finals’ youngest champion

Zverev beats Djokovic, becoming ATP Finals’ youngest champion Zverev beats Djokovic, becoming ATP Finals’ youngest champion https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

LONDON — Despite beating Novak Djokovic in straight sets to win the ATP Finals at only 21, Alexander Zverev knows keeping pace with the Serb isn’t going to be easy.

Zverev claimed the biggest title of his career with a 6-4, 6-3 upset on Sunday, becoming the youngest champion of the season-ending event since Djokovic claimed the first of his five titles a decade ago — also at age 21.

“Oh my God,” said Zverev, who also became the first German winner since 1995. “I’ve won one (year-end title). He’s won five. He’s won, I don’t know what, 148 titles more than me. Let’s not go there for now. I hope I can do great … but just chill out a little bit.”

Top-ranked Djokovic was attempting to tie Roger Federer’s record of six titles but followed the same path as the Swiss great, who lost to Zverev in the semifinals at the O2 Arena.

Djokovic’s serve hadn’t been broken all tournament until the final. Zverev did it once in the first set and three times in the second, completing the victory with a spectacular backhand winner up the line.

“There’s a lot of similarities in terms of trajectory … in our careers,” said Djokovic, who ended a two-year Grand Slam title drought by winning Wimbledon this year, before going on to claim his 14th major trophy at the U.S. Open. “Hopefully he (Zverev) can surpass me.”

Both players began the match in the same form that had seen them earn straight-sets semifinal victories a day earlier, with few points going against the server.

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It was Djokovic, who had lost just two of his previous 37 matches and defeated Zverev in the round robin, who began to feel the pressure as consecutive forehand errors gave up his first break of the tournament for 5-4.

Fans gave Zverev a huge ovation as he stepped up to serve for the set, and it appeared to inspire him. Three straight aces brought up three set points, the second of which he took when Djokovic sent another forehand long.

“I was making way too many unforced errors,” Djokovic said. “From 4-4 in the first set, my game really fell apart.”

Zverev even began to win the longer rallies, an area of the game that Djokovic usually dominates. A 26-shot duel brought up another break point in the opening game of the second set and, although Djokovic saved it, Zverev won another lengthy exchange moments later with a forehand winner to go 1-0 up.

With the biggest win of his career in sight, Zverev began to show some nerves. Although he is the only active male player outside of the Big Four of Djokovic, Federer, Rafael Nadal and Andy Murray to possess three or more Masters titles, the young German has only reached one Grand Slam quarterfinal.

Two double faults and two backhand errors gifted Djokovic an immediate break back, but Zverev quickly refocused to win a 28-shot rally on his way to breaking in the following game.

“I lost my serve once against him today,” Zverev said. “I think this is a pretty good stat, especially as he’s the best returner we have in the game.”

From there he remained solid on serve, before ending with a flourish. A backhand winner on the run drifted past the helpless Djokovic and Zverev sunk to the ground in tears.

“This trophy means a lot, everything,” Zverev said. “You only have so many chances of winning it. You play against the best players only.”

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Djokovic sportingly crossed the net to embrace the player who will now be considered among the favourites in Australia in two months’ time to end the Serb’s run of two consecutive Grand Slam victories.

“I’ve had most success in my career in Australia,” said Djokovic, who has won six times in Melbourne. “Hopefully I can keep that going.”

Earlier, American pair Mike Bryan and Jack Sock saved a match point in the deciding tiebreaker to beat Pierre-Hughes Herbert and Nicolas Mahut 5-7, 6-1, 13-11 for their first ATP Finals doubles title together.

Having failed to take advantage of five championship points during the first-to-10 match tiebreaker, Bryan and Sock then had to save one against their French opponents before finally closing out victory.

“It was a hell of a match,” Bryan said.

The 40-year-old Bryan has now won the tournament five times. He won four times with his usual partner — and brother — Bob, who has been out with an injured hip since May.

Sock and Bryan have dominated since teaming up, winning Wimbledon and the U.S. Open before finishing their season in style in London.

“It’s been a hell of a ride,” Bryan said. “This could be our last hoorah because Bob’s training back in Florida.”

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