This map was included in “Communist Methodology of Conquest”, a 1966 pamphlet by Luis V. Manrara for the Truth About Cuba Committee. The map has 4 globes (all centered on the North Pole) that show the growth of communism. From a red dot in Moscow on Map I to the whole of the Russian Empire on Map II, spreading to China and Eastern Europe on Map III.
The menacing arrows on Map IV are aimed at the U.S., and if that isn’t clear enough, there’s this quote from Lenin: “First we take Eastern Europe. Next the masses of Asia. Then we shall encircle that last bastion of capitalism, the United States. We shall not have to attack. It will fall like an overripe fruit into our hands”. The point of the maps: The Cuban revolution is part of the communist strategy plan to encircle and ultimately subject the U.S.
Gets the tattoo for #rebellion and the thrill of it; fierce animal tattoos- roaring lion, flaming phoenixes, glaring foxes; exploration themes- maps, globe, mountains; monochromatic with splashes of color here and there; quotes that mean nothing to other people, but tell a story essential to them; likely addicted to getting them; also most likely out of all the houses to be dared into getting one and actually do it
colorful; lots of watercolor; symbols; lots of references to things they love- books, pets, art, stories; space themes- constellations, planets, sun/moon; spread out rather than condensed into one area; most likely to get impulse tatts; never tells you the real meaning of them; probably some reference to mythology
sentimental tattoos; always have a meaning, even if it's as small as "it's my favorite animal"; nature-centered- flowered shoulders, forests on the wrists, roses on the ankles; mostly small tattoos with big meanings; cute animals; small, happy quotes like "life is beautiful"; monochromatic mostly; simplistic design; will definitely gush about their tattoos to anyone and everyone
does it for the #edge; covered in tattoos- most likely clustered in one area; black & white ink; slightly intimidating things- snakes, skulls, animals with bared fangs- but most likely adorned with decorative designs like flowers; splashes of darker color; realistic designs and dot-work; probably the one who dared Gryffindor to get a tattoo, but also most likely got one with them; not always a meaning but they're always attached to each tattoo
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” ― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad/Roughing It
A/N : I’m sorry it’s late again and sorry it’s a little shorter but I’m trying really hard. These are written from memory btw so I’m aware not everything is in here and for what is in here it’s not all that accurate. But I am trying. There is only one of me so bear with. Tysm for reading and I always appreciate any kind of feedback, if you want to be tagged in any upcoming parts let me know ^^
Walking towards the
kitchen, you realised you didn’t feel as much of an intruder as you had done
previously. It felt good to walk in the room knowing the routine a little more
than the last times. It seemed to be some sort of custom to just lounge about the
kitchen for a while, eat some breakfast, have some coffee…or in your case hot
chocolate…and discuss the next case. Your Uncle Dean was sat down, his head
buried in what must have been this weeks’ newspaper. For once it wasn’t a pie.
If there was one thing you’d learnt over the past month, it was that your Uncle
Dean loved pie.
You pour the boiling water in a mug, stirring the cocoa powder before sitting
down next to him. “Morning, sunshine.” He remarked. You smile lightly.
“You okay?” He frowned, his green eyes squinting slightly as his brows creased.
“I hear that.” He nodded, going back to look at the paper.
“What happened to your Dad?” You asked after taking a sip.
He paused from reading , put the paper down, and sighed. “We were in a car
crash. He uh…he didn’t make it.”
You looked down, it was almost more shocking to hear that a Hunter had died
from something other than a supernatural creature. You were expecting a demon
or werewolf or something. But not that. “I’m really sorry.” You say
“Don’t be, kid. At least he didn’t make a deal or something.” He picked the
paper back up as if to say that the conversation was over, but he stopped
himself from going back to reading and turned to you: “Did Mom say anything to
you…before she uh, you know.”
Your heart broke, he was so hopeless and obviously not coping well without her.
He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.
“She just said she was proud of you
both…and me I guess. Said she wanted me to look out for you,” He smiled at this
“She said I belonged here.”
“Do you think you do?” He asked
“I am a Winchester…half of one anyway.”
“Family don’t end in blood, kid.” He said. The way he said it was as though he
was quoting something…or someone.
Whoever said it, he was clearly in agreement.
Footsteps broke the comfortable silence as
your Dad entered the scene. He had two shopping bags in his arms as he strode
towards the counter. Planting them on the top, he smiled at the pair of you. “I brought pie.” He declared.
A voice next to you mumbled “Not hungry.”. You shared a confused look with your
Dad., who questioned him “You sure?”.
“I found a case.” Your Uncle Dean ignored the question. “Two people have died
in a mystery fire.”
“And a mystery fire is?” You frown, taking the paper from his hands and holding
it so that your Dad, who had wandered
over, could see too.
“The kind of fire that only burns the bodies. No sign of a fire anywhere else
in the building.” He explained, pointing towards the picture on the front. It
was of two piles of ash. You grimaced a little. “What…you thinking cursed
object?” Your Dad said, taking a sip of coffee.
“Maybe. Or ghost possession.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” Your Dad raised an eyebrow at you, he didn’t say
it but you figured he’d be referring to the last hunt. But you knew hunting was
dangerous. You’d already accepted that.
“Okay. But for once maybe do as I say?” He smirked “You know, like don’t run
off or anything.”
“Oh you said don’t run off?” You
chuckle, making him laugh.
“Come on, I’ll grab the duffle’s.”
Another car ride in
Baby. It was beginning to feel so normal to you, her low hum as she took you to
the next case. You relaxed in the back seat, pulling your phone out of your
pocket and glancing down at the notifications- most of which you swiped away.
Your Dad went in
first, followed by you, then your Uncle. The shop was definitely an antique
shop. It had all sorts of bits and bobs. You noticed there was a significant
number of boats on display on the balcony the floor above you. “No one’s in.
Split up. I’ll check out the computer.” Your Dad said.
“Okay. Kiddo you look around. I’ll be on the first floor.” He headed to the
stairs and you nodded in response. You look about the place. Lots of globes
,maps, and mannequins dressed in retro clothing littered the room. A jewellery
cabinet looking old enough to be an antique itself displayed some frankly
You searched the nooks and cranny’s of the place but no such luck. Nothing interesting
anyway. A clutter sounded, making you and your Dad’s heads turn up to see your
Uncle Dean’s arms fumbling about the place in attempt to catch a model boat.
You giggle, alerting to him he had an audience. Your Dad smiled at your happy
face in such a strange situation. He admired your ability to find such small
things entertaining. He wanted your optimism on the inside. A gruff “Shut up.”
Came from your Uncle.
You follow after him, your hand tracing the banister of the twisting steps. Old
and large paintings covered the yellow-stained walls.
It smelt really strange, but it wasn’t sulfur- a sort of dusty and old musk.
You grimaced slightly before following after your Uncle. His hands traced the
tops of the book shelves searching for hex bags.
You frowned, annoyed
by the place. Everything was normal, which was the problem- too normal. You
turned your head when a clicking sound came from behind you. What appeared to
be a regular bookshelf had been shifted to the right and behind it was a dark
room. Your Uncle Dean glanced back at you and you shared an impressed look.
Hurrying over, you found the light switch.
In front of the two of
you were looming mannequins dressed in Nazi-Germany attire. Their pale uniforms
and swastikas were glaring symbols of hatred. You look around in disgust.
Everything was set up like it was a freeze frame from a play or strange
neared you both as you continued to stare. The footsteps then slowed to a halt:
You took a step forward, being the first to actually fully enter the room and
walk around the desk. The most worrying thing was that everything looked
genuine. Everything was genuine.
“Well this is normal.”
Your Uncle Dean remarked, his eyebrows knitted together with concern for
whomever put the shrine together.
“Yeah…totally normal.” Your Dad nodded.
You hold your gun up, it’s nose facing a girl tied to a chair. She had terrified eyes and was shaking her head as much as possible. You lower it and rush over, cutting the pieces of rope binding her pale wrists. You open your mouth to call your Dad, but stop yourself. “Hey you okay?” You ask Ellie, giving up on calling for them. “What the hell is going on?” She said, her face expecting answers. “I’ll explain in a minute, but it’s not all that safe here.” You say, gesturing for her to move.
Your Dad and Uncle walk in. “Why didn’t you call?” Your Dad frowned, putting his gun in his pocket and going over to help Ellie, only his eyes never left yours. You shrug awkwardly. heading back to keep watch.
The moment you turned the corner of the hallway you practically walked into two tall men. You take a stride backwards, staring up at them to see what they would do. The lunge towards you, guns in hand. You kick the pistol out of the right ones hand, it clattered to the floor an he shouted something in German. Hopefully that would be enough to let the others know they were soon to be in trouble.The other took aim and shot, you dodged behind the wall and cocked your gun. “Y/N!” Your Uncle Dean shouted, almost walking into you. He sighed with relief only to be thrown to the side by one of the men. He grunted, struggling to get back up.
You shove one of them with all your might, you don’t think he was expecting you to. He fell against the wall and you grabbed his gun this time. One down. This time you were the one taken by surprise: your body hit the wall only to be lifted by one of the men. He looked you up and down, dragging you to the floor. Your Dad then burst in “Hey!” He threw the man off you and they got into a full on fight. You watched, unsure of what to do. To your left you noticed your Uncle Dean fighting the other man. You grabbed a metal bar lying on the floor and in one clean hit he was out cold. “Thanks.” Your Uncle caught his breath, standing back up straight. You smile a little and turn round where the other one was unconscious also.
Your Dad placed his arm on your back and gently took you back into the main room. “You okay?” He asked, glancing round nervously. “I’m fine.” You smiled…then you frowned “Where’s Ellie?”
The three of you turned on the spot to try and see where she went. You head to one of the offices where she went to hide earlier. Your Dad pointed above your head to where the window was open. Looking out of it, you tried to find a sign of someone but nothing. “She legged it” You mumbled, slamming it shut and picking up a gun off the floor.
You, your Dad and your Uncle were sat at one of the cafes near where the case was. You had a hot chocolate and were sat next to your Dad. He had his laptop up, researching as usual. He seemed to prefer the theory side of things where as Uncle Dean was much more into the field work- anything practical.
“We have no idea where she could be. For all we know, they already found her. All I’m saying.” Your Dad mentioned, looking at Dean instead of you. “Still, we have some whatever percentage of the DNA of Adolf Hitler walking around. She’s more than wanted at this point. They need her.” Dean replied. You smiled awkwardly at a Waitress walking by who gave you a stern look.
Out of nowhere Christoph sat down next to Uncle Dean. “Hi.” He looked directly at you before looking between the three of you. You’d questioned him earlier about the wacky plan to bring back Hitler. It was mental. “Hi…?” You replied, not sure what else to say. “I can help you guys.” He said decisively. “Okay.” Your Dad nodded slowly, still a little taken back by Christoph’s approach. “Why the hell should we trust you?” Uncle Dean asked. “Why not? I gave you information before, didn’t I? Look, I’m fed up of this life and I want out. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the kid of a maniac?” You wanted to nod but instead you just shrugged before adding “I mean…he’s got a point.”
“What have you got for us?” Your Dad questioned, a little more uncertain than you. “I can take you to, Ellie. But you have to trust me.”
You pulled up to what appeared to be a massive warehouse. Guards patrolled the outside like it were a prison. You got out, watching your Dad suspiciously as he had his hands round his back as he neared Christoph. He held up some handcuffs and locked him to the car, sitting him back down in the front seat. “What so you don’t trust me?” No one spoke. “You’re just gonna leave me here?” “Pretty much.” Uncle Dean nodded, taking out his gun. Your Dad handed you a torch and stopped you going to the boot to get a gun. “You’re on guard duty. Make sure he doesn’t blow our cover.” He nodded to Christoph. “Seriously?” You frown, pouting. “It’s safer for you. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He sighed, turning around to show it wasn’t up for discussion. “Don’t even think about following me, Missy.” Uncle Dean warned, pointing at you.
You sigh and get in the drivers seat. You didn’t bother lecturing the poor man, he wouldn’t blow your cover. He wasn’t that stupid. “You’re not actually listening to them are you?” He laughed bitterly. You ignored him. “No offence, but it looks to me like they’re way too protective. You obviously know how to fight. You might as well follow on.” You sit there in silence, contemplating doing something incredibly stupid but potentially helpful to them. You sighed, unlocking the handcuff from the car and snapping it round his other wrist.
You grabbed a sniper rifle, looking forward to using something other than a pistol for once. You grinned at the firearm and loaded the ammo. “Okay, is there like a skylight or something?” You asked. “Yeah, right ahead.” He nodded. You grabbed his arm and dragged him with you. Reaching the open window you climbed onto a ledge and peered inside. There, was Ellie strapped to some sort of Hospital-like bed. She was hooked up to a blood transfusion machine. Her face was like death. There was another bed next to her where her blood was being pumped into…well…Hitler.
“One wrong move and I’ll start aiming this thing elsewhere.” You hissed, unlocking Christoph from the cuffs. He smirked, taking the pistol. You were about to shoot at him when he aimed it through the window directly at his father. You shot your hand out and lowered the gun. “Not yet. We need to be sure.” You were worried if nothing else…dd he really hate his Dad so much he was willing to pull the trigger? Just then a crash and shouts could be heard. You leaned in, lining up the scope so it was targeted at the man lying down. “In came three armed men, their weapons forcing your Dad and Uncle to abide to them. No one had noticed you two.
You both watched in anticipation. Was this for real? Did Hitler really plan this far into a return? It was impressive…if not sick.
Everyone was watching when the führer rose. He pulled the tubes away from his bare chest, not bothering to cover himself any more than he had already. He then laughed. It was an amused laugh, loud and full of relief. He slapped one of his comrades on the back, so amused by the situation for some bizarre reason.
“He’s a tad odd.” You whispered to his son, who laughed lightly. “Sure is.”
You then noticed Ellie stirring in the bed. She dragged herself onto her feet, barely staying upright. Her shaking hands reached for a gun on the table. She then froze, her eyes fixed on yours. You nodded slowly. She nodded back.
You hold the trigger, your finger just applying enough pressure for it to not move. The cross was lined up perfectly on one of their heads. He wasn’t Hitler, but he was still a Nazi. You pressed down. The shot rang out and the man fell to the floor, the bullet having gone straight for his brain. All heads turned to the window you were at but you ducked beneath cover and dragged Christoph down with you. “That should be enough to kickstart something.” You noted aloud.
“We should help.” You decided, getting ready to stand but this time he dragged you back down. “No way.” You frowned at him. “It’s too dangerous. Let’s just go back to the car.” He suggested instead. You sighed. But what if they were in trouble?
Before you could resist he tugged you towards the Impala and, too your amazement, cuffed himself to the car. He then held out the gun for you to take. You did. Putting it back in the boot along with the sniper you frowned. “Why didn’t you run? You could have just left.”
“Something tells me your Dad doesn’t want me cuffed to the car for the rest of our lives. I figure you’ll let me go soon.”
You sat on the hood, your legs swinging off the side because they didn’t quite reach the ground. “Are you gonna go back to Germany?” You wondered aloud. He laughed “No…are you gonna go back to England?” You were taken by surprise. Not that you had a reason to be, after all you didn’t have an American accent. You thought about it before admitting defeat. “…No.”
You looked up to see your Dad and Uncle heading back tot he car. Safe and in one piece still. You smiled, relieved to know they were okay. “I said don’t move.” Your Dad scolded, his eyes squinting at you. You grin “You said keep watch. I did.” “And she didn’t let you go?” He turned to Christoph. “Not once.” He winked at you when you Dad turned his back, making you blush.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Did I mention I killed Hitler?” Uncle Dean poked his head round the door to say those same words for the billionth time. You glared at him. It was no longer amusing. “Did I mention you were annoying?” You remarked. “Once or twice.”
Your Dad chuckled, grabbing his coffee and sitting down on the sofa next to you. “How are you doing?” He asked, looking at you with an expression that said ‘this is going to be a serious conversation whether you like it or not’.
You sighed. “I’m okay.” “You getting used to life like this, huh?” “Yeah I guess. It’s just so different.” “I know it’s been a huge change for you. You’re taking it really well.” The way he spoke wasn’t patronising like you were expecting, he actually respected the sacrifices you’d made. He understood. “Yeah…” “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but…how did your Mom die?” He asked gently, as if aware you could snap. “They shot her.” “Why?” You knew he wasn’t asking rudely. “She didn’t agree with their way of hunting. England used to be like this- everyone who hunted did it their way. Then the rich and posh lot met the Men Of Letters and decided Hunting needed a change. They’re typical snobs…they don’t care about how it affects you.” “And so they shot her?” He sounded so amazed. “She had close connections with the US and their Hunting customs. She just refused to allow communication. So they tried to get her to give in through me, only I wasn’t fully trained at the time. So they got to me through her….at least they tried to…” “How did they do it?” “They just shot her, right in front of me. I got home from school and…” You sucked in a deep breath “I still didn’t tell them anything.” “I’m so sorry.” He looked down respectfully, as though it were a funeral. A funeral of thoughts.
Filling the prompts “something where Van and the reader drop out of school
together to pursue the band?” and “you were his only ever girlfriend
when he was young, all the songs from the two albums are about you, you were
like, meant to be, the happiest couple ever, baby plans and shit… but then
you kinda starts to stand out at your job and he has to tour more, so he
decides to break up with u, even though you still wanna make things work? then
you get depressed and triggered, but you guys never stopped loving each other
and meet after years” and “reader and Van have been dating for quite
some time and that their relationship is starting to get difficult because Van
is caught up with touring, and that he is starting to like the fame and recognition
he’s getting. Maybe Van is starting to think that maybe it’s best for them to
break up or something? I kinda want a not so happy ending kind of
Indulge me, friends. I’ve tried something new with the structure of this fic. I
need you to listen to Dakota by Stereophonics before you read this. I dedicate
this fic to firstly, the requesters. And secondly, to @you-andthebottlemen. She knows why.
Thinking back, thinking of you. Summertime, think it was
June. Yeah, think it was June. Laying back, head on the grass. Chewing gum,
having some laughs. You made me feel like the one.
“I’m in love with you,” Van said. You rolled
your eyes and threw your math text book at him; purposefully aiming to miss. It
was heavy with the weight of all the pain it had inflicted on you and the
countless students who came before. “And I’m in love with this dope. And
this fucking record. Did I tell you Dad’s taking me to see them next month?”
The sound of Dakota filled the smoky room.
“Don’t think he’s gonna take you when he finds out
about school,” you replied as you took the joint from Van’s hand.
“Nah. He’s gotta know school wouldn’t be my thing,
you know? Really gotta focus on the band. Dead sure we can make it,”
“But you don’t have a backup plan,”
“Don’t need one… We’re gonna make it.”
Van was so, so confident that his high school rock band
was going to get him to stadium gigs and musical stardom. You snuck into the
hallway of his house and watched as he told Mary and Bernie he was dropping
out of school because of that belief.
“Van, they kicked you out,” Bernie said.
“Nah. Mutual decision,” Van grinned. Mary’s
face was blank, and Bernie shook his head.
“My boy… The world is… It’s hard to make it in
music. You know that,” he told his firstborn, only born.
“I know. We’re good, though. We got Larry and Y/N
to keep us in check and tell us when we’re writing something shit. I just…
School’s doin’ my head in. I promise I can do this. Ma, I’ll buy you a jacuzzi.
And you,” Van said, pulling his seat up next to Bernie and holding his
shoulders, looking into his father’s eyes, “I will make you so fucking
proud. I promise.”
You lasted only a month in school without the guys.
There was a fight between your parents and Mary and Bernie. They called Van
reckless and a bad influence, which was true, but Mary said that Van would
always look after you, and surely that is all they could want for you - to be
happy, and loved until the very end of your days.