hardly having any news of them

Byun Baekhyun//Psych - Part 6

Originally posted by progamerbyun

Summary: After a month of being broke at college, you finally find a place to stay, but the only con is that there is nine other people you have to share a house with - one in particular who makes it his mission to irritate you at every turn - but they’re hiding something from you. Something big. (1/ 2/ 3/ 45/ 6/ 7)
Scenario: Werewolf!AU, college!AU, series
Word Count: 5,398

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[DRABBLE REQUEST] LDR!Wonwoo (G)

Request: Long distance relationship with Wonwoo
Requested by: @j-wonwootrash
Word count: 4,791
Genre: FLUFFFFF
Warnings: Wayyyyy tooo much fluff abort mission 

A/N: I am sorry this is so late! I really wanted to post this on my boy’s birthday! And also, I will be starting my first year of university next month, so this drabble means a lot to me :) Hope you guys like it, and all the best for the next half of the year!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SUNSHINE, MY LOVELY ECCENTRIC CUTIE. I LOVE YOU ALWAYS!

(And I apologize for the random cameos they’ve written themselves in cuz they pushy af >//

Here are the songs we used in this drabble!

| Hey There Delilah | Jet Lag | I’m Dying to Miss You | Best Luck |

- wooed


Your eyes crack open at the sound of your alarm that had rudely interrupted your pleasant night’s rest. Your hand feebly reaches out from under the quilt covers, blindly slapping the nightstand until you are able to grasp the mobile device to silence it. The clock flashes at maximum brightness at you, making you wince.

🔔  7:15AM: DAY ONE OF THE SEMESTER. YOU GOT THIS BABY! WHOO!

Your sleep-dust-filled eyes narrow at the almost mockingly overenthusiastic message you’ve written for yourself just the night before. What were you thinking, waking up at such an ungodly hour?

Right, first day of university.

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Blossom ~ An Avenger’s Story (6/15)

AU Summary: Jack and Y/N lives a normal life without SHIELD and HYDRA around them. 

Notes: jack is such a sweetheart. i made him so perfect and i think that’s gonna bite me in the ass later. anyway, yeah, normal civilian life. how’s that possible? and i really like these new characters a lot because representation is important :)

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

MASTERLIST


4 YEARS LATER

Jack turned 5 today.

It wasn’t really his birthday but since no records of his birth existed, Y/N gave him one.

A few of his school friends and their parents came to their house and greeted him, bringing Jack some presents. They stayed for a while as Y/N let Jack play with his friends on their living room. At days like these, it was nice having company over. IT made the house seem brighter and livelier. And Y/N loved that. Especially the fact that Jack  was grinning and laughing the whole day. She loves him with all her heart and has completely accepted that she’s his mother now. And he was a bright child. Everything was well with the two of them.

“Alright, sluggo. Come on. Bedtime.” Y/N patted the empty bed and smiled at the little boy in pajamas on the other side of the room. He rubbed his eyes and climbed onto it, tucking himself inside the blankets and giggled.

“Can I play a lot again tomorrow?” he asked, looking up at her with his big, beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

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anonymous asked:

Renjun doesn't get enough credit for being a really good dancer and vocal and a mini king visual!! On top of all that he debuted after a few months with zero previous professional experience and he is bilingual!? I think because he is more softly spoken and his personality is not so 'idol' like he gets ignored but he's also funny and savage too in his own way.

STRONGLY AGREE | AGREE | NEUTRAL | DISAGREE | STRONGLY DISAGREE

Renjun is honestly so funny from the small snippets of his personality we have seen. Most of the members of NCT have been around since 2012 and were big news so we know a lot about some of them. However, Renjun was added to the line up as a mystery and still kind of is but that’s what makes him so special. He’s talented without hardly any training and so fluent in Korean for a non-native speaker. I hope we get to find out a bit more about him.  🌹

@tom-brightwind cntd.

My dearest Henry Lascelles,

“Some form of Faerie creature” does not give me much information, pet. Shame on you, I would have expected better of someone so meticulous in every other facet of being. And to think I would be bored by the news that someone – or perhaps rather something –  of Faerie is currently meddling about in in the Christian realm, why it is like you hardly know me at all! I am wounded.

Nevertheless, you were right to come to your betters for aid. I daresay I would caution against signing any sort of bargain with it indeed, as it would invite my ire upon you both, and I have not the slightest idea about them yet.

Send me more information and I may be tempted to point you in the right direction for dealing with pests. You can, of course, simply ask and I would be there in a moment.

Ever your benevolent and gracious Prince,

T. B.

My benevolent and gracious Tom,

I will admit I was surprised and gratified to find you had responded to my letter at all. I did not entirely expect it. However, that you should say I was right to come to you (we shall not touch on the subject of your being my “better”) gives me pause. I do not ask for aid, but find myself with so little information to help solve my dilemma that your advice might make the difference between victory and defeat. Yet I must wonder at what price it will come.

You may be pleased to know we agree for once: Signing a pact would be foolish. I do not know by what right you should hold such a strong opinion on whether I do or do not; but in that at least I do not intend to cross you. 

Here is what I have heard, seen and scried: Not long after the death of Mr Norrell Hurtfew Abbey became what the local villagers call “haunted”. Word of it reached me through Mr Norrell’s old footman, and so I and my companions took a carriage to Yorkshire to investigate. We found the Abbey boarded up. 

Cpt. Merivel and my footman were attacked at the stables by a young man in very little clothing, but managed to drive him off. When we pried the planks from the door we were met with the likeness of John Childermass, who I know to be dead. We retreated and I looked through a water-bowl into the Abbey’s kitchens. I saw an elfin-seeming woman in a cape of woven green leaves and watched as she cast a spell upon the door. She was accompanied by some small figure, monkey-like and limber. 

We retreated further into the village and I tried again. This time I saw a different young woman sitting in a bedroom, drawing crude figures on the pages of priceless manuscripts. She was short, dark and underdressed, like the young man the captain described, but human in appearance. This underlined to me the urgency of our mission. Those books are England’s heritage. They must not be lost. 

I cannot rally so much as Mr Yeats (the butler) to help me reclaim the Abbey, except by force and bullying. I cannot look to the villagers for aid. I am at present compiling a weapon, which may take some days. I dread to think what might happen in the meanwhile. The captain, who has some experience in dealing with other worlds, has suggested a parlay. I do not disagree, though I should like to do so only after our weapon has been completed. 

You may not realize, Tom, just how little we know of Faerie customs in England. Our magicians’ interactions with its peoples have been largely utilitarian or wholly unfortunate, and as you know, my rhetoric has never gone down well with your kind. I would expect us to need that weapon. 

Will you advise me, sir, with no promise of recompense? Do I amuse you still, or have I wasted this half-hour’s writing? 

I remain my own,

H. Lascelles

Ryoko, Ayeka, Sasami, Washu, Mihoshi. Ai Tenchi Muyo.

Today, the official site for Ai Tenchi Muyo/Tenchi Muyo Love has been updated with the news that  everyone has been waiting for… the original girls! That’s right, Ryoko, Ayeka, Sasami, Washu and Mihoshi have crash-landed into the Masaki household once again. While they hardly need any introduction, below you’ll find the profiles featuring their new designs.

Ryoko
The legendary demon who was sealed up in the Masaki Shrine. She has powerful energy stored in her secret gems, and can execute various abilities using them. She has a rather short temper.

Aeka/Ayeka
The first princess of Jurai, she’s come to earth looking for her missing fiance. Graceful and mild-mannered by nature, however once she becomes angered, she is extremely frightening. She’s devastatingly bad at doing housework.

Sasami

The younger sister of Ayeka, second princess of Jurai. She has an innocent and cheerful personality. Her skill in housework, in comparison to Ayeka’s especially, is very good. Because of this, she’s taken charge of the Masaki home’s housework by herself.

Wasyu/Washu

The science academy’s self-designated “Number one Genius Scientist in the Universe”. Though she appears to be very young, she’s actually been alive for 20,000 years or more. She finds herself fascinated with Tenchi.

Mihoshi
Detective First Class in the Galaxy Police. She’s got a natural gift for accidents, many crazy and unthinkable things occur around her against her will.

We at TenchiForum will have more as it comes!

Say Something

A quick little one shot that came to me this morning after listening to the song ‘Say Something’ by A Great Big World and heavily inspired by the book If I Stay. 

“Maka, he can’t stay here forever. You need to let him go.”

Wes gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed. They had all been telling her for weeks that she needed to say her goodbyes, that he wasn’t going to make it, but she refused. The only reason they hadn’t pulled the plug on him was because she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Goodbye felt too final, and she knew that wasn’t what he deserved. Soul was was the love of her life, how could she say everything she wanted to in such a short amount of time? How was she supposed to tell him how much he meant to her in an hour?

She couldn’t.

She would refuse to say anything to him until the last possible minute; she would only tell him her goodbyes if his heart stopped beating.

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Ready

“Are your ready to see this patient?” asked my attending.

This patient was a young mother-to-be, otherwise healthy with her first baby on the way. I had hardly conducted any prenatal checks myself nor led a gynecological exam. I was vaguely familiar with the questions I should ask and distantly comfortable with the physical exam maneuvers I was to perform.

I had done them before, once, in a time that seemed so far past. Mentally, I weighed the pros and cons of leading this appointment. The cons seemed to stack up. 

“Are you ready?” echoed in my head.

The hollow spaces hissed back, “No.”


She withered into a sliver of a woman after I told her the news, “Stage 4 pulmonary adenocarcinoma. You have lung cancer that has spread throughout your body.” 

“But I was so healthy?” you could see her life decisions replaying in her eyes through a lens of doubt, questioning everything.

“I am incredibly sorry. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

So I sat there while she delicately sobbed her regrets away. My hand reached out and held hers. I’d occasionally add prognostic words - chemo, palliative, radiation, family - but they just evaporated into the room’s dark cloud.

“I’m not ready for this.” her eyes pleaded with mine.


She texted me, “We need to talk.”

It’s amazing how a cliche can make your heart drop.  

“Not me, not right now. I just can’t.”

My brain replayed everything - the memories, the laughs, the chemistry. After all that? How? Why? 

I put my fingers to the phone’s keyboard. 


There was about a 20 story drop between me and the rushing river below. I was perched on a small metal grate that jutted out the side of an old bridge. It was a crisp winter day, clear skies, and nothing but the sounds of nature around me.

It was a beautiful day to jump.

The man who jumped before me screamed the entire way down. I wondered if I would do the same.

The only thing connecting me to the bridge was a thick bungee cord. I got into a squatting position so I could explode out into swan dive as beautifully as possible. My friend held a camera to record everything.

Behind me, the jumpmaster yelled instructions, “THREE. TWO. ONE. DIVE.”


“No one is ever ready.” I thought. I led that appointment.

“No one is ever ready.” I whispered back. I never saw her again.

“No one is ever ready.” I texted back. She never responded.

“No one is ever ready.” I jumped. I loved the rush.

We are never ready. We are never one-hundred percent.

It’s the missing percentage that makes life thrilling, worth loving, worth living, worth trying. 

And, God, I hope you try.

A/N: I have many complicated feelings right now about the Blackhawks, but this fic snippet literally would not leave my head until I wrote it. started at 2 AM, finished at 3:30. unbeta’d.


Losing is always awful, and it’s worse when it’s an overtime loss. The only consolation is that at least it wasn’t a home game, but still: Jonny’s not going to be able to get Ryan Kesler’s sneer out of his head for a while now. Jonny wants nothing more than to go back to the hotel, rewatch the game tape, and dissect exactly what went wrong and where the team could have played better. Failing that, he’d like to maybe lie face down on his bed, pull the sheets over his head, and listen to the slightly muffled, soothing sounds of Patrick getting ready for bed in the room across. Instead, he’s sitting at a table in one of California’s shitty sports bars with the rest of the Hawks, minus Artemi and Patrick.

They’re both standing over at the bar, Patrick’s head tipped towards Artemi’s. They look scarily similar from the back—they’re both short, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and golden curls. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jonny’s been playing with Patrick for eight years—and been his friend for nearly that long—he’d be hard-pressed to tell the two apart. Patrick though, has one arm draped casually over Artemi’s shoulders, and is gesturing animatedly with his other arm. He looks comfortable nestled into Artemi’s side.

Jonny watches with narrowed eyes, sipping his drink grimly. He’s not jealous. He’s not. It would be—it would be irrational to be jealous. The rookies, with the notable exception of Saad, have always tended to gravitate towards Patrick. Patrick’s really good at making them feel at ease, and it hardly takes him any effort to do so. Jonny, on the other hand, has to work at it. (He blames the “Captain Serious” rep.)

It makes perfect sense that Artemi especially would bond with Patrick, given their recent chemistry together. In fact, their hockey chemistry has dominated Blackhawks news lately, and sports writers have been effervescent in their praise, describing their on-ice relationship in terms that Jonny is well-familiar with. He’s reminded repeatedly of all the times reporters had referred to him and Patrick as “one hockey organism.” Except now, Artemi and Patrick “speak the language of hockey,” and apparently “have red-hot chemistry that can’t be matched.” Ugh.

Someone nudges him, and Jonny stops staring intensely over at where Patrick is draped(!) over Artemi only to meet Seabrook’s really judgmental gaze. “What?” he snaps.

“Really?” says Seabrook, lifting an eyebrow. Jonny hates that Seabrook can do that; he’s never been able to, no matter how many times he’s practised in front of a mirror. “You gonna make me say it?”

Jonny scowls at Seabrook, and when that doesn’t work, scowls down at his nearly empty glass instead. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure,” says Seabrook, and Jonny’s sorely tempted to chuck his glass at Seabrook. This…is probably a sign that he should head home soon.  

Jonny looks over again at Patrick and Artemi, who are still stuck together hip-to-hip and apparently no closer to ordering drinks for the rest of the table, and makes his decision. “I’m heading out,” he says loudly, looking around the table. Everyone seems slightly cheerier than when they’d first arrived, and he feels that he’s discharged his captainly duty by showing up and staying for the first round of drinks. Seabrook can do the pep talk this time. He pretty much has to, now that he’s an A, Jonny thinks with slight vindictive satisfaction.  

Shawzy makes a token protest, but everyone else waves him off. Jonny leans around Seabrook to grab his jacket, avoiding eye contact, and then makes his way to the exit. He spares a glance at the bar right before he pushes the door open, but Patrick never turns around to see him leave.

**

They fly back to Chicago the next day, which means that Jonny gets to see the Patrick-Artemi lovefest continue on the plane. Artemi’s constantly talking in his broken English, and Patrick has the most ridiculous smile on his face, with both his dimples popping out. It doesn’t even make sense that Artemi is sitting with Patrick. If anything, he should be sitting with Tikhonov, who can actually help improve his English. Patrick is just…chirping Artemi, looking thrilled to be the center of Artemi’s attention.

It lasts throughout the whole four-hour flight. Or, well, it probably lasts for the whole four-hour flight, but Jonny takes a nap halfway through out of sheer desperation, and wakes up only when they land. He doesn’t bother trying to touch base with Patrick before they separate, even though they’d had plans to meet up this night for their weekly Game of Thrones episode watching. It’s a tradition they’ve tried to hang onto, as much as their road trips will allow.

But Patrick’s probably got something planned with Artemi, which is fine. Totally, perfectly, completely fine.

**

Jonny’s halfway through chopping up apples for his evening kale smoothie—the kale, celery, and flax seed are sitting off to the side in a bowl on the counter—when his apartment door bangs open. Jonny’s startled enough that he nearly drops the knife and cuts his finger. This doesn’t happen because he’s a trained professional athlete, but it was a fucking close call.

He looks up, and of course it’s Patrick, because (1) who else would have the key to Jonny’s apartment; and (2) be inconsiderate enough to just throw the door open like that.

“Christ, give me some warning.”

“I texted you,” says Patrick, unrepentant. “Not my fault you don’t check your phone.” He’s slipping out of his coat and scarf, shivering slightly. “It’s insanely cold out there.”

“You’re just a wimp when it comes to the cold,” says Jonny automatically. And then he does a double-take at Patrick, because, “What are you doing here?”

Patrick gives him a strange look. “Why wouldn’t I be here? We had plans to hang out tonight. Game of Thrones, hello? Cersei fucking Jamie? Daenerys visiting her dragons? This sound familiar to you?”

“Well, yeah,” says Jonny, and then barrels on. “I just thought, with Artemi, you maybe wanted to.” He sees Patrick’s confusion and tries, “You seem like you’re on a good, it’s good that you’re bonding, I mean, he’s all alone and, you’re, you fit together perfectly, you have,” and mercifully manages to stop himself before saying the words red-hot chemistry. Jesus. His face feels flushed and he has no idea how all those words fell out of his mouth without his permission.

“No,” says Patrick after a long pause. Jonny looks up from where he’d had his gaze trained diligently on the counter to see Patrick staring back with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face. Patrick looks like maybe he’s trying to figure something out. Well, good luck with that, Jonny thinks uncharitably. Whatever, it’s not the worst uncharitable thought he’s ever had about Patrick Kane.

“I wouldn’t say that the Bread Man’s all alone anyways,” says Patrick. “He has Tikhonov. They’re practically best friends.”

“Right,” says Jonny. He’s hoping that they can drop it now, but Patrick’s still giving him that look. Whatever it means. Jonny feels caught by Patrick’s stare, and it’s irritating, because he has no idea why he feels caught. Fuck.

“And I wouldn’t say that I fit together with Panarin perfectly,” says Patrick. He starts moving closer, pulling off his stupid toque as he goes. His hair is a mess, as usual, and it falls all around his face.

Jonny clears his throat. “Oh?” He’s trying to sound casual while stemming down a rising tide of totally legitimate panic, because crap, Patrick looks like he knows. And. If he knows—

“Yeah,” says Patrick, coming to a halt right in front of him. Jonny’s breath catches. Patrick’s close enough to reach out and touch, but he doesn’t move closer right away, just stares steadily at Jonny and Jonny can’t look away. It means that he’s still looking into Patrick’s eyes when Patrick finally closes the distance, leaning up to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm against Jonny’s. The kiss only lasts for a brief instant, but it sends spirals of heat coiling lazily through Jonny’s stomach.

“Oh,” says Jonny again, this time somewhat dazedly.

Patrick’s smiling up at him, all smug and pleased. Jonny’s torn between intense irritation and equally intense attraction, which is a state that he’s long since resigned himself to when spending any amount of time around Patrick. “I can’t believe you made the Bread Man think you hated him just because you were jealous.”

“I wasn’t—” begins Jonny, and then gives up, hauling Patrick back in for another kiss. He bites down on Patrick’s lower lip and feels more than hears Patrick’s shuddery gasp. Jonny grins against Patrick’s mouth, and says, “I’m not jealous anymore.”

“They call him the Wandering Wolf,” she’d heard her father say.  

“He must be a wanderer to come this far into the hills,” she’d heard her uncle respond thickly through a mouthful of stew.

“These Starks, calling themselves the this wolf, and the that wolf.  It’s as silly as if I called myself the Wandering Mountain, isn’t it?” she’d heard her brother say.

“What could he want?” she’d heard her mother snap.  "He’ll fall off the mountain if he’s not careful, and Starks are never careful with their climbing.“

Arya watches him come, watches him pick his way up the mountain path leading his horse and one hand against the rock face.  He is taller than she’d expected.  To hear her father speak of it, Starks are not so tall for there was no mountain in their blood.  She cannot see his face, at all, he is so swaddled in scarves, his cloak wrapped tight about his body and belted shut.  At least Starks seem to know how to gird themselves for winter.

She watches him come closer and closer until she hears him make a sound of surprise and he calls, "Hey!  Girl!”

She cocks her head, smiling.  He would think her a girl, she supposes.  She’s far enough away, and wrapped in her own cloak, but she’s too old to be a girl now.  The Norrey had been been clear to say so when he’d supped at their table a moon past, commenting on how The Flint’s girl had grown a fine set of teats.  "Like the mountains, they are!“ he’d bellowed in his cups, and her father had laughed while Arya had blushed and slumped down in her seat because they were hardly as big as her mother’s–hardly mountains at all–and besides, she did not want everyone to stare at them.  But the Wandering Wolf would have had no way of seeing them beneath her furs.

"How far until I reach Lord Flint’s holdings?” he calls to her.  "Lord Flint" he names her father.  Perhaps he has simply never wandered in this part of the North, and doesn’t know any better.

Arya smiles down at him.  "Well, if you take the road, you’ve got another half a day.“  She doesn’t hear him grown above the wind, though from the way his body twists she can tell the news is not quite welcome.

"There is no faster way?” he calls back.

“If you scale the mountain,” she responds, cocking her head and looking up the rock face.  She’s climbed it for years–in snow, in rain, in sunshine.  She knows the footholds and the resting places and, more importantly, knows that home is only an hour away.  

“I could not leave my horse,” he curses.  

“No, you could not,” she agrees, and she gets to her feet and climbs quickly down to the road.  "But at least, I shall keep you company along the way.  It will be faster–I know where the road is.“

She sees his eyes, grey like the sky overhead widen slightly.  

"Forgive me, I thought you a girl but I see now that you are not.”  

She tilts her head and suppresses a smile.  "I’ve heard that you are a Wandering Wolf, but I see that you are not.“  She begins to walk the path, picking her way through the snow and stone.  "Only a man.”

“I am a wolf,” he says quickly, and she hears snow crunching behind her.  "I am Rodrik Stark, of Winterfell.“

"I am Arya Flint,” she laughs.  "And I am a mountain.“

notenoughgatorade  asked:

hello!! can i request 3 for jackxbittyxparse?

3. Drunk/sloppy kiss

◉‿◉ welcome to my twisted mind; epikegster alternate ending. in other news, i need to go to church. in other OTHER news, i once again demonstrate my inability to count to 300.

Maybe a kegster isn’t the best place to kiss someone for the first time, but Bitty would hardly be the first to have done it. He can see at least three couples in dusky corners getting friendly, and if any of them even knew each other’s names before tonight, it’s because they had a class together once, maybe.

Bitty would be lying to himself and to God if he said he wasn’t toying with the idea of ending Jack’s silly football story off by slinking into his space and cutting the words off at their source.

(sinning continued under the cut)

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anonymous asked:

okay, so clearly you're pro-guns. in your opinion, what is the cause of america's high rate of mass shootings?

I’m not just pro-gun. I’m pro self defense. I believe in more freedoms, not less.

Anyway, personally, I think the increase it’s a number of things. A lot of people might not agree with what I think, but …. here we go!

  • The media’s demonization of firearms. When was the last time you turned on the news and heard stories about firearms saving lives and preventing mass shootings? The media has essentially aided in brainwashing the public into thinking that firearms are ONLY for killing and not for self defense. I don’t actually think that mass shootings are on the rise due to the fact that CCWs and the ownership of firearms is increasing. I think that it’s being publicized much, much more. It’s popular to be anti gun right now and I’ll never understand why.
  • The increase in gun control laws has put the population at risk. Since the Second Amendment was created and placed in our Bill of Rights, it has been for protection. Strip away a person’s right to protect themselves and they become powerless. The increase in these gun control laws has put everyone at risk because it’s become so much more difficult to obtain a firearm in certain states. There seems to be a correlation between gun violence and places with stricter gun control. [COUGH COUGH CHICAGO COUGH]
  • Gun control laws aren’t about guns, they’re about control. Take away the guns, take away a person’s ability to protect themselves. It’s exactly what Hitler and Stalin in order to maintain their power. If the people don’t have a means of fighting back, any dictator can have control. Just look at Chicago - the Gun Control Capital of the US. They’ve had EVERY possible gun control measure put into place and yet over 60 people were shot during 4th of July weekend. ONE WEEKEND. That’s insane. I recall them having one weekend where they went murder free and I think it made national news. Chicago has some of the worst gun violence in the US because citizens are not legally able to protect themselves, but it hardly makes the headlines because it’d show gun control - or “gun sense” - in a bad light. (This probably should also be linked to the media)
  • Fear is a learned behavior. The media and the government has been doing a splendid job at scaring the public into being afraid of firearms instead of respecting them. And, in turn, the public is teaching their children that “all guns are bad” and should be feared. It’s a vicious cycle that needs to be stopped. Firearms should not be feared, but respected. They are merely tools that aid in defense - it’s why we use them to defend our country and homes. By not teaching people the benefits of having a firearm, we leave the population as walking potential victims. It seems as though people who are afraid of guns and who are genuinely anti gun are genuinely in favor of disarming everyone else to make them have a false sense of security. They feel safe by making everyone a potential victim.

    “Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither.”  - Benjamin Franklin

  • Knowledge is power. People who are anti-gun often don’t understand how firearms work or have ever fired a gun. It gives a lot of weight to the saying that knowledge is power. People’s ignorance and unwillingness to look at the facts is literally killing others. People need to be able to protect themselves (and their rights - which is why the right to bear arms is the Second Amendment, but that’s a whole other conversation!). There are people who think that the Bill of Rights is outdated. REAL people - who vote - think THE BILL OF FREAKING RIGHTS is outdated??? If that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will. 

Basically, I blame: a lack of knowledge about firearms, the media’s demonization of firearms, and the increasingly strict gun control laws. If you don’t like firearms, DON’T GET ONE. I don’t think there’s an increase in mass shootings, I think there’s a greater demonization of firearms and it’s being greatly publicized. 

Speaking of gun control: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95ToUvpKMv4

Careful, it’s a little scary. These people are voting.

Short thoughts about the Retrospective

I don’t have much to say because the Retrospective really wasn’t news to any fan of Supernatural. I’ve really got only one thought-

Sometimes I forget how much I love Supernatural. Other shows come and I fall in love with them; Supernatural has a bad episode and I roll my eyes; we go on hiatus and I grow complacent. I forget what this show means to me. But then comes the song- Carry On Wayward Son plays, and there is this great stirring of pride in my chest so that I can hardly contain it. And I remember- these are my boys. I have put my hard work, my mind, and my heart into this show with millions of others. And this?

This is our show.

A letter from a Civil War soldier to his beloved wife:

Camp near Lanjer, Ark.

May 10th 1863.

My Dear Amanda,

It has been a long time since I had an opportunity of writing to you, and I gladly avail myself of the present opportunity. I am not certain that I will have a chance of sending this but I will write a few lines any how and try and get it off to let you know that I am among the living.

We have been on a raid into Ms. but I have not time to give you the particulars of our trip. I will write in a few days if I can get a chance to send it and write you a long one. I just came off of picket and found the boys all writing to send by a man that has been discharged who is going to start home this morning. I was quite sick three or four days while in Mo. but have entirely recovered. We captured a good many prisoners while in Mo. and killed a good many. We went up as high as Jackson 8 or 10 miles above Cape Girardeau. We fought them nearly all day at the Cape on Sunday two weeks ago today. The yanks boasted that we would never get back to Ark but they were badly mistaken, for we are back again and have sustained but very light loss, we never lost a man out of our company and only one or two out of the regt. I wish I had time to give you a full description of our trip. It would be very interesting to you I know; but you will have to put up with this little scrawl for the present. I am in hopes that I will get a whole package of letters from you in a few days. I never wanted to see you half as bad in all my life as I do now. I would give anything in the world to see you and the children. I have no idea when I will have that pleasure. We can’t get any news here - do not know what is going on in the outside world. The boys will all write as soon as they get a chance to send them off.

We will remain in this vicinity, I expect for some time to recruit our horses. Our horses are sadly worsted. We found plenty to eat and to feed our horses on in Mo but hardly even had time to feed or eat as we traveled almost insesantly night and day. We could get any amount of bacon of the very best kind at 10 cts and every thing else in proportion.

I must close for fear I do not get to send my letter off. Write offten I will get them some time. I will write every chance, do not be uneasy when you do not get letters, for when we are scouting around as we have been it is impossible to write or to send them off if we did write. Give my love to the old Lady and all the friends. My love and a thousand kisses to my own sweet Amanda and our little boys. How my heart yearns for thou that are so near and dear to me. Goodbye my own sweet wife, for the present. Direct to Little Rock as —.

As ever your devoted and loving Husband, J.C. Morris.

Mrs. A.N. Morris.

Because how could I not.

He swears his phone nearly exploded. The number of notifications that had come through to his twitter, he’s surprised it was still fully functional. As it was, he had been signing his fingers to the bone at the time and under the stern gaze of both Gina and Paula (they’re worse enough on their own, but together… they’re an intimidating pair and not one he wants to get on the wrong side of) he dare not check what on earth has gone on.

Keep reading

We’re never believed when we talk about racism in fandom and people are just so eager to silence us.

I’m on the “fandom racism” tag on tumblr because I occasionally do like to find new people to block when I see this blogger talking about the white women in fandom doing shipping olympics to justify not shipping Spider-Man with Zendaya!MJ. 

Their next post in the tag comes from some anon fussing at them, accusing themof generalizing and blaming a “vocal minority” in the same anonymous message. (”hardly any white girls probably even care about spider-man” the anon said as if a majority of transformative fandom isn’t made up of white women and therefore, the spider-man fandom has a ton of white women in it)

Nevermind that people have been shitting on Zendaya since the second that the news dropped (and btw, it’s still not official news from Sony/Marvel).

 Nevermind that the Thor fandom is now pretending that it cares about Jane Foster in order to excuse misogynoiristic complaints about Tessa Thompson playing Valkyrie and possibly playing Thor’s love interest. 

Nevermind that every time a Black woman is cast as a white character, white men derride her appearance and white women dismiss her character and act as if she’s unworthy of being in a relationship with the white fave she’s undoubtedly cast opposite. 

Nevermind that already I’ve seen female members of fandom talking about how “it’d be nice to have a Spider-Man movie where Mary Jane doesn’t have a love interest” (like Homecoming already doesn’t have that!!).

When we (fans of color and anti-racist allies) talk about the racist abuse we see directed towards, fans, actors, and racebent characters of color, the first thing we see is their outstretched hands demanding “proof” and acting like making up racism is like a thing people actually do. 

It pisses me off so hard because right now, we’re getting it from two sides: members of “mainstream” fandom constantly crapping all over Black women as if it’s their job and (largely female) members of transformative fandom who’ve learned to couch their racism and hatred of women of color in social justice rhetoric so it looks like they’re fighting for us, not against us. 

And even though you can look at Twitter, in tumblr tags, and google this shit, people are still like “I don’t see why you’re complaining, it’s not a big deal”. 

Our anger is reactionary. We are reacting to endless racism aiimed towards fans, characters, and creators of color. If you sincerely believe that the right thing to do when faced with this reality is to demand proof and get mad when it’s given?

You can fuck right off. 

Abby's Studio Rescue: Not a very effective rescue...

So, I’m kind of a big fan of dancing in general. Dance Moms is my guilty pleasure. I watch absolutely anything with dancing in it, even if I can’t stand Abby Lee Miller. So when Abby’s Studio Rescue came out, I guiltily watched (though, because of a lack of cable, I watched it online; they’re not getting any ratings from me!). 

Needless to say, I was quite excited to realize that the first episode was in my home town. My town is ridiculously small, so if you’re involved in the dance world, you know about Triple Threat, just like any other studio in my town. We all knew it was pretty bad. One of my friends from high school actually worked there, starting a while before filming, though she quit not long after it was filmed. She was shown in the episode, but I don’t know if she can get in trouble for talking about it so I’m not going to say who she was.

Anyway, Lifetime really didn’t give you the whole story, especially with the update at the end of the episode. 

The studio is now closed. There are multiple lawsuits being filed against Marlaina. One competition went to the attorney general after receiving a bad check; Triple Threat owed them $6,000 and hadn’t paid. 20 parents of students there also went to the attorney general and filed formal complaints and are part of the lawsuit. Apparently, Marlaina was taking money from them for competitions and then telling them the competitions had been cancelled, but kept the money. When the parents called the competitions, they were informed that it hadn’t been cancelled, but Marlaina had pulled them out of it. 

My friend didn’t get paid for three full months, despite repetitively and politely inquiring to Marlaina about it. 

A week before a recital, no one had costumes. 

According to her, the episode was edited so much that things were just completely changed. Hardly anything was the truth. And the studio is now closed. The phone lines have been disconnected, Marlaina’s cell has been turned off, and no emails are being returned even to the parents. 

I just thought the fandom would be interested in hearing the truth. There are some news reports on the subject, but I’m too lazy to find them. Just google the studio name and they should pop up, everyone’s buzzing about it and quite a few news stations have covered it. 

If you have any questions, let me know and I can try to find out, but no promises, things are kind of crazy! :)

bbc.com
Syrian refugees flock to Sweden

>Sweden will be giving permanent asylum to any Syrian refugees arriving

>They can bring their families

>The swedish government expects 340.000 Syrians to gain Swedish citizenship over the next 4 years

When mass immigration didn’t import enough people for the left, now they’re using the broken asylum system to import as many as they can on top of that. I already pointed out a while ago that hardly any of the refugees arriving will have any intentions of leaving - and Sweden now actually invites them to stay. I wonder how your average Swede feels about this, when over a third of a million foreigners will suddenly be in the country, “enriching” them on top of the already insane regular immigration count.

Let Sweden be a warning to the rest of us.