downing loot

Do you know what makes me mad?

I am almost twenty. I am on the verge of real adulthood. I am in college, I am preparing for the rest of my life, I am being exposed to the world.

And I live in a world that hates me.

This is especially relevant to this website– I love tumblr and I have met some of the closest friends I have on here, but this site has also shown me how much the culture I am surrounded by wants to purge me and people like me from it. Let’s make a list:

1. I am a middle-class, well-off white girl in a beautiful neighborhood.
2. I am genetically a girl, and I identify as a girl, and I am straight.
3. I am pro-life, and I support citizens having guns.
4. I am Christian; I don’t cuss, I won’t have sex until I am married, and I don’t like when I see sex or extreme language in film.
5. I support gay rights and gay people because God tells me to show grace and love to everyone, but that part doesn’t matter to anyone because, at the heart of the matter, I believe that sex is between a man and a woman.
6. If you haven’t guessed, I am a Republican.

And there’s the rub. I am a straight white well-off Christian girl in a head spinningly, overwhelmingly liberal world. But Cas, you say, the whole world isn’t liberal! Of course it’s not. But the only people who are allowed to speak are those who lean left. In my experience, which I will admit is limited, but not naive, any opinion that does not fall in line with liberality is crushed and anyone who does not also fall in line is also crushed, and shamed, and cast out, and laughed at.

The world, television, and tumblr especially, have this interesting paradox in which I am told to 1) Express myself and love who I am, and love everyone despite our differences, but also to 2) Conform, or die. Is it only me who can see how glaringly hypocritical this is? “We love everyone no matter what you believe– unless it’s ______.” What does it say about the world we live in that this is acceptable, and even normal? We spend countless hours representing diverse minority groups and rallying and protesting and showing love, but we can’t also take care of those who disagree with us? How does that make sense to anyone at all?

And here we come to the issue of equality, which is the most laughable phrase ever to exist in modern times. Equality used to mean that both sides were equal. Both sides were the same color, the same number, the same amount or quality or anything. 2017 tells us a different story. Equal now means minority groups have the same rights, but their rights are inherently better than the majority’s because we are common, unimpressive, normal, and because they are a minority group and we are not, we are automatically despicable people, if not for real, active discrimination, which is the real thing that should be destroyed, then for simply existing in a greater volume. “Pride, pride, pride”– until it’s straight pride. “Nationalism, patriotism”– until it’s Republican. “Faith, loyalty”– until it’s conservative Christian. We need to shift the meaning of equality back to where it should have always stayed: Both sides stand out equally, and both are loved and accepted equally.

In no way am I saying that I hate gay people or liberals or think that people should have unequal rights. If you have come to that conclusion, please re-read everything before this before continuing.

Oppression is an absolutely terrible thing, and from some of the things that I told you at the beginning of this post, one could assume that I have never experienced oppression before. You would be completely wrong. Do you know how many Trump jokes I’ve heard over the course of my freshman year of college? Do you know how many times I’ve felt insulted, put down, and silenced by my classmates? And do you know how many times someone has defended Trump or any Republican policy in response? You can guess the answer, and it’s definitely not the answer a “privileged” straight white girl would be “expected” to give.

So what do you do about this problem? You say you stand for love, and I’ve just told you that I am being hated– what are you going to do about it? Will our difference of opinion be a wall between two human beings supporting each other? Do you see the problems? Do you see that the other side of the coin is struggling as well? Every building that gets burned down or looted, every anti-Trump, anti-Republican protest, rally, post, sentiment– it has an affect. This isn’t to say, of course, that constructive debate is bad, or that protesting is a bad thing all the time, or that any kind of criticism should be forbidden– my hope is that no one reads this that way. What I am trying to do is to make the world realize that there are more people out there than liberals, that there are people who do support Trump, who do strive to obey God, and who love their country, AND THESE PEOPLE HAVE FEELINGS, JUST LIKE YOU.

So scratch that. This isn’t something that makes me mad, it’s something that infuriates me. The hypocrisy and hatred in this world is overwhelming, and the love that is supposed to connect every human being is corrupt beyond recognition. How do we survive? How do we come out of this on top? The only way to turn this around is love, but it feels like such a far-fetched idea in this culture that I worry for humanity’s safety. I’m struggling not to lose sight of the  glimmer of hope in a population that is blinded by their own sense of righteousness and contempt, but it’s getting dark out there. The world seems to be breaking into nothing more than a cynical series of tactical maneuvers in the biggest civil war the world has ever seen– that of humanity against itself.

true to form, i was trying to write something else and this story wouldn’t leave me alone. ao3 link.

Summary: During the Reaper War, Calvin Kosta reflects on his relationship with his son. 


It is two months after their son leaves for Andromeda that the Reapers descend on Earth. Blame is cast, fingers pointed, neither lasting long. Silence soon descends on the megalopolises and London is disconnected from the world.


“Do you really have to go?” Joelle asks, hugging her son, her child, her only child so fiercely it’s as though she believes the embrace will change his mind. “It’s so hard, just—knowing we’ll never see you again.”

They’ve had this conversation a million times, but it still doesn’t mean Liam doesn’t cry. He knows what this means to his parents – especially to Mum – but he has to do this. The opportunity to make  a difference, a real difference, is too much to pass up. “They need me,” he says, finally pulling back, but it doesn’t stop Joelle from making her last stand.

“I need you,” she insists, and Calvin sees his opportunity to intervene. Places a hand on his wife’s shoulder, claps a hand to Liam’s.

“She’ll be safe with me,” he promises, flint-brown eyes focused on his son’s face. “You know what you have to do, son. There’s a whole new galaxy out there.”

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Won’t Let Go - Part 1 - Leonard McCoy

Pairing: leonard mccoy x reader 

Summary: short fic (or ficlet, if you’re nasty) based off “say you won’t let go” by james arthur. this is the first verse until the first chorus. EDIT: im gonna make it the stages of a relationship instead of following the song exactly. also this part takes place before bones, reader, and jim have graduated from the academy. OKAY? COOL!

Word count: 1,102

Warnings: fluff

A/N: ok the summary says it all, really. i love this song too much and for some reason thought of bones while listening to it today. as i already said, this is just the first verse! it’s a cute, short lil story. SO ENJOY IT, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, ETC. 

The vacant San Francisco streets were lined and illuminated by quaint street lamps every few feet. Though their light was much dimmer than what would be considered adequate and their purpose was likely primarily aesthetic, it kept the two of you from bumping into the fire hydrants with chipped orange paint and trashcans with glossy green paint as you stumbled into his side repeatedly.

Leonard didn’t know you for very long and, even after discounting the amount you’d spoken over the last few hours, you felt familiar to him. He liked the sparkle in your eyes when he first approached you to speak, liked your too-loud laugh which rang through the club Jim had forced him into, and liked the tightness with which your arms stayed locked over his shoulders as you danced too slowly to a too-fast song. Most of all, though, he liked the way in which you looked at him with a smile that reached your eyes and wrinkled the bridge of your nose— like he was familiar to you, too.

It was half-past three and you both walked side-by-side through the Mission District. You held an over-filled ice cream sandwich in your hand and he held a precarious ice cream bar in his— those, combined with the bottles of water weighing your bag down, formed your modest loot from the 24-hour pharmacy that you insisted on visiting when he found your drunken persuasion face too amusing to refuse.

Leonard glanced at you as you laughed about the awful mistake which was the Indian-Italian fusion restaurant you passed and couldn’t help but smile back.

He nodded towards your hand when you met his gaze. “Your ice cream’s meltin’ all over your hand, sweetheart.”

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I honestly had such a good time at Supanova Perth this year, and it’s always so nice seeing and chilling with everyone again after the stress of exams. Everyone is so cute and I can’t wait to see everyone again soon. I’ll hopefully be seeing some of them when I go to Sydney for SMASH!

anonymous asked:

Hey can you do an imagine where you go over to Dylan's house and are drinking with the guys and you get really touchy when you're drunk so you're like all over Dylan laughing about it. Do what you want with that and then when you wake up in the morning you're in his bed with him. You can make it any way you want to. Thank you! Live your imagines!

Ty ty dear!!

“Shots?” Eric called from the next room over.  “Shots!” you and your friends answered enthusiastically. Eric walked in holding a bottle of Jim Beam and several Dixie cups. You laughed, “Damn Eric, your Kansas is showing.” He shot you a “ha ha very funny” look and set the loot down on the plastic fold out table. You all poured your shots, tapping them down on the table before throwing them back. A synchronized “Ugh” came from the small group, but everyone went back for more.

By your third shot you were feeling quite free, and quite friendly. You put an arm around Dylan’s neck and fell into his lap, tilting your head backwards to look at him. “Hi,” you giggled at him. “Hello.” Dylan said with raised eyebrows. “Watcha drinkin?” you asked taking the plastic cup from his hand and smelling it. “A screwdr– okay then.” You interrupted his answer by downing the remaining liquid and handing the cup back to him before walking back to get yourself another drink.

The group of rowdy teenagers had calmed down within two hours time. They now sat in small circles, telling jokes and stories. Dylan and Eric were sitting beside each other on the ratty basement sofa. You made your way to your friends and plopped down between them, smiling widely when they looked at you. Eric chuckled, “Damn y/n, you’re wasted.” You managed to focus your eyes on his face and squinted at him. “You don’t know anything,” you booped his nose with the last syllable. He laughed and leaned back into the couch, “If you say so.”

You turned your attention to Dylan who was wearing a slightly worried expression. “How many drinks have you had?” he asked, eyeing your cup. “Um…” you looked up at the ceiling and tried to think, but couldn’t quite remember. “A few.” you decided, nodding.

“Okay, well,” he started, taking the red plastic from your hand and setting it down on the table. “I think you’ve had enough.” he said this as if you were a child gorging yourself on halloween candy.

“Oh, Dylan,” you sighed, leaning back into his lap and putting your feet  on Eric. “You’re so good at taking care of me.” Dylan half-smiled at you, “Well you’re not gonna do it yourself.”

Eric nodded, patting your leg before turning to talk to the girl sitting in a plastic chair beside him. You pulled yourself up and looked up at Dylan. “You,” you smiled, hugging his arm, “Are just so, so sweet.” You nuzzled into his arm and he chuckled, trading amused looks with Eric. That is, until you sat up and climbed back into his lap, facing him this time. His expression dropped and the tips of his ears turned red. You grabbed his head and hugged it to your chest, stroking his hair and smiling. You could feel just how hot his face was getting. “Y/n–” he started in an apprehensive voice. “Yes, Dyl?” you answered, sliding down to meet his eye level. As you did this you ground your hips into his without really meaning to. He shifted uncomfortably and struggled to find an appropriate place to put his hands. “Dylan?” you purred, trailing a finger across his collarbone and bringing it up to push a shaggy curl behind his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Oh wow,” Eric laughed, “I’m gonna head home and let you guys… do whatever it is you’re doing.” You reached a hand out to Eric and he took it. “You’re not driving are you?” you asked, worried. “Nah, I’ve got a ride.” he nodded his head towards the girl he was talking to earlier. “That’s good.” you said very seriously. He ruffled your hair and shot a wink to Dylan before heading out. You turned your face back to Dylan and looked into his blue eyes, blinking slowly as you leaned in.

You groaned and rolled over. Holy shit your head was killing you. And your breath tasted terrible. You sat up and quickly realized you weren’t in your bed. You were in your best friend’s bed. Dylan’s bed. Wait– SHIT. You were in Dylan’s bed. You looked down and found yourself wearing only one of his t-shirts and your panties. Oh fuck no. you thought to yourself, struggling to recall the night before. The last thing you remembered was being in Dylan’s lap and leaning down to… Oh fuck. You threw the blankets off of yourself and looked around the room for your belongings.

“Hey,” came Dylan’s voice from the doorway where he stood with two cups of coffee. You stared at him for a moment before taking the mug he offered you. He sat down on the bed and you followed, sitting in awkward silence while the two of you sipped your drink. “This coffee is good.” you said just to break the silence. “Thanks.” Dylan replied. Neither of you looked at each other.

You took in a deep breath after a few minutes and prepared to ask the question swarming your mind. “Uh, did we…?”  you started, not wanting to finish the thought. Dylan shook his head. “Nope.”  You sighed in relief.

“Where uh, where are my clothes?”

“In the wash.” Dylan replied. You looked at him in confusion. “You threw up all over them. And me.” He said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disgust.  “No I didn’t! You’re lying!” It was more of a plea than an accusation.

“Yep,” he cracked a small smile and looked over at you. “I thought you were going to kiss me. Instead you vomited right down the front of my shirt. And then your own.” He was holding back a laugh. “Oh my god Dylan, I am so sorry!” this was mortifying. Maybe even worse than a drunken one night stand. He set your empty mugs down on the bed side table and put an arm around you, “Don’t worry about it, shortstack. It happens to the best of us.” You squinted playfully at him “Does it?”

“Well, no.” he admitted, “But I thought it might make you feel better to say it does.”

You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dyl.” you said softly. “You take such good care of me.” He pulled you closer and squeezed your arm. “Someone’s got to.”

Ah yes… thank you injustice for giving me yet another “guise of Eric border” coat for the joker. The other two I have are just as useless. Not like I’ve been aiming for one of his other epic coats that you always seem to tease me on by having AI’s wear it aalllll the time!!?

[Y]ou didn’t have to make up anything there. You wanted to just remember it: the globe in the schoolyard crushed by a tractor; laundry that’s been hanging out on the balcony for a year and has turned black; abandoned military graves, the grass as tall as the soldier statue on it,  and on the automatic weapon of the statue, a bird’s nest. The door of a house has been broken down, everything has been looted, but the curtains are still pulled back. People have left, but their photographs are still in the houses, like their souls.

There was nothing unimportant, nothing too small. I wanted to remember everything exactly and in detail: the time of day when I saw this, the color of the sky, my own feelings. Does that make sense? Mankind had abandoned these places forever. And we were to experience this ‘forever.’ You can’t let go of a single tiny thing. The faces of the old farmers—they looked like icons. They were the ones who understood it least of all. They’d never left their yard, their land. They appeared on this earth, fell in love, raised bread with the sweat of their brow, continued their line. Waited for the grandchildren. And then, having lived this life, they left the land by going into the land, becoming the land. A Belarussian peasant hut! For us, city dwellers, the home is a machine for living in. For them it’s an entire world, the cosmos. So you’d drive through these empty villages, and you so want to meet a human being. The churches have been looted—you walk in and it smells of wax. You feel like praying.

—  Svetlana Alexievich, Voices from Chernobyl
A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Chapter 4/5

Words: 1588

Author’s note: I’m back! This may not be the last chapter but the next one is for sure! So, are you ready for the feelings I’m about to give you? XP ~Mod Roy

It was getting late. Ganon already had a few rabbits, enough to feed the little ones and maybe some of the teenagers, but not the whole tribe. Usually he would have captured a 10-course meal by now, but his head wasn’t in the game. He was too worried about Link. The boy had been missing for three days now, and no matter how much they have searched, he was nowhere to be found.

That was when he heard a wolf’s howl. Ganon was snapped out of his thoughts, more focused on the animal. A wolf could feed a lot. They may still have to break in the emergency storage to give everyone a decent meal, but at least everyone could have some fresh meat tonight. Remembering his training, the man crouched down, hiding his loot with sticks and dead palms. He then tip-toed toward the sound.

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the space between.

First Chasing the C/h/atwalk extra! (Technically Chapter 10.5)

This little short happens right after chapter 10 #ThirstyMarinette and  before the finale (TBA).

You should definitely read the rest of the story before this. AO3 link

Thanks to everyone who helped me with this, especially oz (who heard me whine repeatedly about this), and kate <3 

Warning: Fluff alert.

the space between

 His feet made a soft thud against the tiled stone of the balcony rooftop. The trapdoor is open, as it usually is whenever he drops by, and he can hear the soft sounds of music drifting into the night. Chat Noir waits for a second, trying to see if she heard him arrive, but judging by the distracted singing … he’s still in the clear.

Today was the last time he’d be able to visit her. Marinette would go to the hotel the next morning to start the final stretch of filming before Fashion week. Just seven more days to go until they were all done with the show.

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                       ❛     what the hell happened down  THERE ?     ❜     don’t mistake it for kindness,  or genuine  concern,  for the wellbeing of the people.  they’ve got their police.  they’ve got their procedures,  for dealing with  fire.  he’s just gotta make sure he’s down there for the  LOOT,  before everyone’s crawlin’ over the  bounty.

@tetramother     /     starter call.

Don’t Make a Sound

Title: Don’t Make a Sound
Author: @hips-before-hands1987
Rating: MSR/NC-17
Timeline: December 2007 
Notes: This one is for @leiascully‘s challenge Sound. Listen, I have read some pretty nasty smut in my day but this is by far the most salacious thing I’ve ever written. I may burst into flames if I go to mass this Christmas. I wrote it in about an hour and no beta was used. Feedback is always welcome! Thanks guys :)

—-     —–     —–

Scully could not believe that her mother had talked her into hosting Christmas at her and Mulder’s home. The two of them had spent Thanksgiving with Maggie when she announced that she was simply too tired to put on a full Christmas including Bill’s family too.

“Your place is big enough Dana, you and Fox should host.”

Mulder had gone dead quite looking towards Scully with a furrowed brow.

“I… I don’t know, Mom. Bill has made it perfectly clear that he disapproves of my life and he’s never been very respectful of the relationship I share with Mulder and…”

“We’ll do it” Mulder cut her off abruptly.

“WONDERFUL!” Maggie announced. I will call Bill tomorrow with the plans. “Now, hand me those plates and I will start to clean up.”

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