resettled

independent.co.uk
The government just quietly banned disabled child refugees from Britain
The Government has stopped accepting disabled child refugees fleeing war in Syria and other countries because it says it cannot cope with their needs, The Independent can reveal. A flagship government programme to resettle the most vulnerable victims of conflict in the Middle East and North Africa has been partially suspended, meaning children will be left in refugee camps instead of being moved to safety in the UK.

The Tories always manage to find a new low to sink to. But then they don’t care about disabled people anywhere. 

zorilleerrant  asked:

Can you have Cap save baby Magneto?

This actually happened in some of the cartoons! I gasped out loud when I saw it for the first time. (Go to about 10 minutes in for the full scene.) I thought I’d do something a little different, because while I love Erik in the First Class movies, I always wanted a happier ending for him…

The Howling Commandos, as a forward team focused on Hydra, hadn’t liberated many camps; the ones they had were Hydra slave labor camps, where the men were, if not well-fed, then at least not the gaunt, barely-alive prisoners they’d heard about from Red Army soldiers and Allied units. 

This camp was different; at the heart of it was some kind of lab. When Steve battered down the last reinforced door, he found a man holding a gun to the head of a young boy. 

“I’ll kill him,” the man said. Steve didn’t bother with an answer; the shield took the man’s head off before he could threaten the kid again.  

Still, in that second before death, Steve had seen the man’s finger spasm on the trigger, and felt the thickness in the air when the trigger wouldn’t move. He looked at the boy, looked at the body, and had a sense of destiny resettling itself in the world. 

“Was he the camp commander?” he asked the boy, who nodded, huge-eyed. “Commander…Shaw?”

The boy nodded again. He turned and pulled Steve’s now bloody shield out of the concrete wall like it was nothing. Then, with narrowed eyes, he floated it across to him, through the air, without touching it. 

Steve took the shield out of the air, shook off what he could, put it on his back, and said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the boy said, in trembling English.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Erik Lensherr.”

Steve had seen a lot of things in the war; nothing like this, but there had been signs of strange experiments in Hydra labs. This was comparatively harmless.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal, Erik,” he said. “I won’t tell what I saw here just now, and you help me close this place down. Then we’ll take you to HQ and get you a hot meal. Sound good?”

Erik nodded, then offered, “They knew you were coming. They destroyed all the records.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “Come on.”

In the convoy, bringing the prisoners out of the camp, Steve brought Erik up to the cab of the lead truck, and put him in next to Bucky at the wheel.

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked.

“Erik,” Steve said. “He’s riding with us.”

“Sprichts du English?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes,” Erik replied. “I can speak. English, German, Yiddish, some Russian. Good interpreter. I can work for Allies?” 

“How old are ya?” Bucky asked.

“Sixteen,” Erik said. 

“You are twelve,” Bucky told him.

“I’m just small,” Erik replied.

“Yeah, because you’re twelve,” Bucky insisted. “Well, we’ll make sure the folks handling the refugees take good care of y – “

“No, he’s coming with us,” Steve said. 

“What?” 

“Erik’s coming with us to HQ. We could use an interpreter. And he’s small enough to make a good spy. He’s had enough of camps, ain’t ya, kid?” he asked, and Erik nodded. 

“You wanna join the allies, huh?” Bucky asked.

“I go with Captain America,” Erik announced. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said, and now I know better,” Bucky replied, but he was grinning. “Fine, on your own head be it. Sixteen my ass,” he said to Steve. 

Steve took off his helmet and plopped it onto Erik’s head. “Sorry, got a new sidekick now,” he told Bucky, who laughed. 

Years later, when a magazine asked Erik Lensherr why he agreed to become Captain America after the disappearance of Steve Rogers, he said, “Steve took a terrified twelve-year-old Jewish kid out of a slave labor camp, gave him a helmet, and told him he had power. I believed him. Turns out he was right.” 

ALSO IMAGINE MAGNETO AS CAPTAIN AMERICA WITH THE SHIELD. HOLY CRAP. :D 

The gag is there wouldn’t have even been a Louisiana Purchase without Haiti. There would not have been a revival of the unique culture in Louisiana if not for Haitian immigrants resettling here because it was slowly dying out. New Orleans would have not been anything close to what is if not for the blending of Creole and Haitian culture. Many came here, led massive slave rebellions, and become state icons (i.e. Charles Deslondes). So y'all really have to read before you throw your diaspora hot takes out there.

viserys-last-of-his-name  asked:

So...racism in ASOIF. Pretty blatant, no? His clear equation of whiteness with beauty? The manner in which lands of color are always sexually...open. GRRM tries, sometimes, he really does, but there's some unhealthy shit there right? Could you give your thoughts on that, or link to a time when you have? Thank you! (Yes, I know my name is misspelled.)

Blanket statement before I start on this one: you can love a story to pieces and still point out its flaws and blind spots, including the racist kind. If we only consumed non-problematic media, we would consume no media whatsoever, but we still gotta be honest with ourselves about where our faves fall short. ASOIAF is my very favorite thing (shocking, I know), yet aspects of it are disappointing, and this is one of them.

For me, what really crystallized the problem with how GRRM writes the Dothraki and the Ghiscari especially is when I read some insightful people comparing that writing to how the author frames the wildlings. Personally, I think GRRM does some of his very best writing with the Free Folk. Throughout the series, the author lavishes attention on their individuality, their rich and sad history, their multi-faceted ideology and how it plays out in each of their unique life stories, all geared toward making Jon—and us—feel for them. Not just intellectually understand that they are human beings like anyone else, but feel it, in his and our bones.  

I want to really emphasize individuality, because it’s important—putting faces on the monolithic swarm changes Jon’s entire worldview over the course of ACOK, ASOS, and ADWD. That’s not just a band of stinking wildlings howling for blood, not anymore. That’s Ygritte, kissed by fire, who loved and was loved, lost and was lost. That’s Tormund Giantsbane, the only one of Jon’s many dads who doesn’t project anything onto him, but simply enjoys his company and wants him to be happy. That’s Mance and Gilly and Val, people that I care about and feel I have come to know. “This is a whole people come together.” One of the worst among them gets a POV; Varamyr Sixskins is the most stomach-churning face we ever wear, but by his prologue’s end, he’s a thoroughly fleshed-out villain, his life story told. I understand him, and my understanding of the wildlings as a whole is richer for what his story communicates.

This is good storytelling, in other words. Really good. Not flawless, but overall, it’s an engine of empathy and humanization with a big-picture political aim: the wildlings are people too, and that means we have to stand with them against the Long Night.

“When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe.” He looked at Jon. “Would you agree?”

“My father dreamed of resettling the Gift,” Jon admitted. “He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it.” He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though… but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte’s red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. “I agree.”

It’s stirring stuff, and a model to be studied. Those who were initially barbarians in our POV’s eyes are humanized…

…when they are white. When they are not white, the humanization drops off to a glaring and significant degree. Jon and Dany are paralleled throughout the story, but this is one very telling difference: the cultural Other in Jon’s story gets a human face, while Dany’s (to an overwhelming if not 100% complete degree) stays a swarm. This is true whether said swarm is being presented negatively…

Four of the men seemed to be named Grazdan, presumably after Grazdan the Great who had founded Old Ghis in the dawn of days. They all looked alike; thick fleshy men with amber skin, broad noses, dark eyes.

…or positively.

She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!”

You can definitely see parallels between Dany’s assimilation into the Dothraki in AGOT and Jon’s rumspringa with the wildlings in ASOS; @racefortheironthrone makes that case here. But the difference is that in Dany’s story on the Dothraki Sea and in Slaver’s Bay, there’s so rarely even the pretense of individualization. I challenge anyone to describe to me the characterization of Dany’s bloodriders—give me a paragraph on what makes Aggo and Rakharo different. (You would be able to with Mance v. Tormund.) Tell me about Hizdahr zo Loraq and Reznak mo Reznak as human beings. (You would be able to with Ygritte and Varamyr.) Where is the Tormund of the Dothraki? Where is the Ygritte of the Ghiscari? They are not there…or rather, they are, but GRRM doesn’t bother showing them, and seems more than a little disinterested in the people he does show. He finds “the human heart in conflict with itself” in so many other parts of the story, yet not here.

This is where Jon ends up RE the wildlings:

“I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?”

This is where Dany ends up RE the Ghiscari:

It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy.

The latter is never countered within the text itself. We are not shown how Dany is wrong. This is a problem. (I say that even while worshipping at the altar of Dany X ADWD and recognizing that moment’s place within her personal arc; vast, contain multitudes, and so on.) But this failure of empathy, imagination, dramatization, and humanization did not occur in isolation. This is a major problem with the genre as a whole, and it’s honestly one of the reasons I’m generally much more of a horror and sci-fi guy than a fantasy guy. Those have their own issues, of course (because, again, everything we create does), but fantasy’s history lends itself to a particularly colonialist-nostalgia-tinged take on things. That is far too big a subject to summarize here, and of course concerns our relationship to all media, not just fantasy stories. So, given that a picture is worth a thousand words…Peter Jackson knew to cut Tom Bombadil, but he didn’t know to cut this:

So when I say that the way GRRM has written this fantasy story speaks to a racial blind spot, I am not making a problem up out of thin air because I want to be mad about something, as is the all-caps accusation every single time anyone brings this up. I am saying that this is yet one more nail, and that while GRRM has addressed many of the genre’s tropes and cliches with style to spare, he has also proved willing to take some disappointing and well-trodden shortcuts.

anonymous asked:

this is unrelated to anything at all but there is a genre of sheith from an outsider's perspective that i adore

it sounds like what you’re saying is “i want 2k of matt’s pov of shiro and keith’s first meeting, and i want it to be sheer agony.”

anyway this was supposed to be for @otasucc but now it’s for everyone! here’s the first installment of the worst thing i’ve ever written.


Dear Katie,

I witnessed a tragedy today.


-


They’re the only two in the Garrison gym when the kid walks in.

Matt is reading on one of the suspiciously sticky benches by the door, supposedly spotting for Shiro who’s busy dead lifting some ridiculous amount of weight for god knows what reason. It’s not like sitting in a cockpit requires you to be shredded, but if he’s dumb enough to actively seek out pain, Matt’s not going to let him go it alone. At least if he accidentally traps himself under a weight, Matt will be there to laugh.

They’re an hour into it when the doors slide open. It’s after curfew and Shiro has special permission to use the gym, so visitors aren’t exactly common. The kid looks normal at first, if unfamiliar. He’s out of uniform and dressed down in clothes that are almost aggressively plain, but he's—pretty, even at a passing glance.

The kid gets two steps into the room before he realizes it’s not empty.

Matt is watching, so Matt can pinpoint the exact moment the kid’s life falls apart—the exact moment all of their lives fall apart.

-

And Katie, I’m not joking, he took one look at Shiro and his heart stopped. Right there in front of me. I thought I was going to have to do CPR.

-

The kid’s eyes settle on Shiro, where he’s busy being sweaty and gross, and go shock-wide.

It’s like his primary motor function ceases for a second. He stumbles, almost, almost catches his feet, but his momentum carries him forward, right over the glorified Bowflex that no one’s seen anyone but Iverson use, and down he goes.

It’s… tragic.

He doesn’t fall so much as crash face first right into the floor and the small heap of single-hand dumbbells piled there. He gives a little, pained cry, the sound drawing Shiro’s attention. The kid has solid reflexes; he’s up almost as soon as he’s down, but the damage is done.

And he doesn’t notice his foot is hooked under one of the dumbbells.

He tries to take a step and stumbles again—Shiro and Matt both put out a hand like they can stop his second fall by sheer force of will, but by some fluke, by some stroke of luck, by the grace of some angel, he doesn’t fall.

It’s a pure accident. Matt can tell by the surprise on his face. The kid’s hands land just right, and his momentum is just enough that he turns it into the most haphazard somersault Matt’s ever seen in his entire life. It’s not smooth by any definition, but it’s maybe a little impressive.

He stands and dusts himself off, looks in the general direction of the wall over Shiro’s shoulder, face already as red as is possible for a human, and says, “I’m fine. It was—parkour.”

He’s dead serious.

Matt feels his mouth fall open. For a second he thinks he’s misheard, because it’s the most flagrant lie he’s ever heard in his life, and the most bizarre. He glances at Shiro, hoping they can share a raised eyebrow and a get a load of this kid look, but Shiro isn’t looking at him.

Shiro is staring at the kid, open-mouthed, and there’s not a trace of humor in it.

“Parkour?” Shiro asks, managing to sound fascinated.

“Yeah.” The kid brushes the bangs out of his eyes, suave-like. “Parkour.”


-


Katie. This kid has never done parkour in his life. He wouldn’t know parkour if it did a back flip off a building and suplexed him in an alley.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hello, would you be able to give me some context on the Manus island issue? I understand that they are being isolated and starved basically, but who are these men? Why are they there? I don't want to bother I'd just like to understand better... thanks!!!

So our government decided it wanted “strong borders” which means turning boats carrying refugees back. (This is called “refoulement” by the way and is against international law but fuck it, the government just hates refugees that bad). Our policy is a hardline one: if you try to come here via boat then you will not be settled in Australia. This meant that when over 2000 refugees from Myanmar were stranded at sea in what the UN described as “floating coffins” the then PM Tony Abbott adamantly refused to help. The government justifies this by referring to this as “illegal arrivals.” Note: it is not illegal for refugees to arrive by boat.

Those who don’t get turned back (or remain from the Gillard era of arrivals) get put into detention centres in Manus and Nauru (which are situated in Papa New Guinea and Nauru but operated by the Australian government). These centres have been active for a while by the way (The two were originally opened under Howard in 2001, closed by Rudd, then reopened in 2012 by Gillard).

Conditions in these detention centres are horrible. Deliberately horrible. The UN has labelled it torture. The government’s reasoning? To discourage people smugglers. Make coming to Australia via boat so horrible an option that people fleeing war and persecution will think it a less reasonable option than staying home and potentially dying. Again: torture. There are hunger strikes, there’s violence against the refugees, sexual assault, abuse of childrenpeople have died, the psychological toll of indefinite detention has led to high rates of depression, attempted suicides, and self harm, and there’s shockingly poor medical services. They could have just decided to not let refugees in and resettle them elsewhere and not torture them in the meantime but nope. The torture is PART of it. Just to be cruel.

And these people are innocent refugees. As Turnbull said to Trump - “They have been under our supervision for over three years now and we know exactly everything about them.” The Government publicly has stats about how many claims have found to be genuine refugees. These people aren’t a threat. They just want to flee persecution and we know this.

But policy is policy so… indefinite detention it is. And it is indefinite. There’s a US deal where some of them might be taken to be resettled in the US after they’ve been re-vetted. A deal made under the Obama administration is now under review by the Trump administration and Turnbull has told Trump he can take as little as 0 refugees if he likes - just review their cases. 0. We’ve turned down New Zealand’s offer to take some of our refugees because of the US deal - but as the US deal might lead to nothing it’s simply biding time, keeping people in limbo, for no reason other than to continue to maintain the disincentive of coming here by boat.

This is of course costly. It costs $400,000 per person to keep them offshore. It’d cost the government half that to do it in Australia. Half that again in community detention. Why not then save money by doing it in Australia? Probably because then it’d be easier for people to investigate what horrible things go on in detention centres. The government tried to gag medical professionals and threaten them with up to 2 years jail time if they reported abuse on the islands (but backed down eventually).

The Papa New Guinea (PNG) government decided though that the Manus detention centre was unconstitutional and therefore illegal and demanded that the Australian government close Manus. They did so officially on 31st of October 2017, shutting off power and supplies to the compound.

Now 600 men are refusing to leave. They are scared that going to a different detention centre will simply be a continuation of the abuse and torture that will leave them in this perpetual limbo of being unsure where they’ll be resettled or when they’ll get there. There’s also the option of 3 sites for accommodation in  the main town of Lorengau. The refugees say that the locals don’t like them and that the police attack them. The detention centre recently was assaulted by gunfire so you can see why. They’ve run out of food but local police are stopping locals/Australians from helping deliver food to the complex. They need medical supplies. They’re digging holes for water. There’s no electricity. This is a stand off. Our government wants them to just… move…

They don’t feel any of their options are safe. And given our history of abusing them and then denying it’s happening I don’t blame them.

This is the terror that our government inflicts on refugees. It inflicts this on other human beings. It’s deliberately cruel, it’s deliberately inefficient and costly, and it’s a constant national shame that our government demands that human rights violations and abuse are the right thing to do.

There’s no excuse for this.

materassassino  asked:

Allura and Lance, comparing the Broganes over a spa day.

           Lance stretched and leaned back. “Man, this is so much nicer than the pool.”

           It turned out the Castle had a “Rejuvenation Suite,” or, as Lance insisted on calling it, a “Space Spa.” Allura decided it wasn’t worth correcting him, especially not now.

           She and Lance were each ensconced in a single-person soaking tub filled with medicinal and rejuvenating herbs and salts. She’d chosen the “Relaxation” packet; Lance had gone for “Revitalizing”. Soft scents wafted through the room, changing from juniberry to starpetal to arcleaf, drifting from one to the other like a lazy hummingbee. There was a quiet background music, just loud enough to hear if you wanted to, but quiet enough to ignore if that was your desire. The lights dimmed and brightened at slow, random intervals, never getting too bright or too hot. It was like shifting sunlight.

           Lance had his eyes closed as he sighed happily. “Can I just live here? Like, can this be my room?”

           She laughed a little and closed her own eyes. “No. The Rejuvenation Suite is for everyone’s use. And if you bring Keith down here, you two have to behave. These tubs are single occupancy.”

           He snorted. “We’ll behave when you and Shiro behave.”

           She sat upright so quickly her tub sloshed a little. Fortunately, there was no spillage. “We behave!” she insisted.

           Lance cracked one eye to look at her doubtfully. “You two were behaving last week when we caught you in the kitchen? THAT was behaving?”

           Allura blushed and resettled herself in the tub. “Yes, actually, that was behaving.” She knew she probably shouldn’t, but the impulse hit her and she couldn’t help herself. “You should see what he’s like when we’re in the Black Lion together.”

           Lance snickered and closed his eyes. “I do not need to see that. Well… actually, I might not mind, but Keith would hit the ceiling.”

           “Really? He doesn’t seem sex-averse at all.”

           “Oh, trust me, Princess, he very much IS NOT.” She rolled her head over to find him grinning. “But he and Shiro have that whole ‘bro’ thing going on. He gets squidgy about it.”

           “‘Squidgy’?”

           “Yeah, y’know: squidgy.”

           “I know a dozen different languages, and none of them have such a word.”

           “It’s kind of like ‘ew’ but with more ‘ugh’ to it.”

           Her brow furrowed. “Anyway, he doesn’t like hearing about Shiro’s sex life? Is that the point you’re trying to make?”

           “Yeah, pretty much. I don’t mind though.”

           She laughed. “You already saw some of it! And, for the record, I was just trying to make tea. The rest of that was all his idea.” She cleared her throat. “Sometimes it feels like you and Keith aren’t even dating at all. If you hadn’t announced it over the Castle’s comm systems, I might not even believe it.”

           “Eh, Keith isn’t a big PDA person.”

           “Peedee… ?”

           “Eyyyyyyyyyy!” he finished with a grin. “Yeah, Public Displays of Affection. It kind of drove me nuts at first, but then I realized that it’s,” his voice softened from smugness into quiet satisfaction, “well, it’s kind of like I get to keep all of that to myself. Just for me.”

           “Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”

           “It is, isn’t it? It’s actually amazing how sweet Keith can be sometimes. Like, even when I think he’s not listening to me, and I’m just babbling and being annoying, he’ll say or do something days later that proves he really heard me. Like when I was running out of my moisturizer, and he…”

           “Oh, is that why he asked me about that? I thought maybe you were just rubbing off on him.”

           “Every chance I get!” Lance declared.

           She rolled her eyes, but stayed on subject. “He got that for you?”

           “Yeah, he did. And it works great, by the way!”

           “You are glowing,” she confirmed, “but I just assumed that was because of Keith himself and not the new skincare product.”

           Lance blushed a little but rolled his head over, opened both eyes, and grinned. “I ain’t the only one glowin’ around here, sister.”

           “I am not your sister nor am I glowing.”

           “GLOOOWWWINNNNG,” he insisted in a sing-song voice. “Shiro smiles and you light up like a Christmas tree.”

           “I don’t know what that is, but I’m certain you’re overstating it.” She was trying to ignore the fact that her face was heating up.

           “He’s a little more PDA than Keith is, anyway. The little cheek kisses and things like that. You two are like something out of a storybook.”

           “Oh, stop that, we are not.”

           “You totally are! The beautiful princess and her dashing knight! Er, paladin, in this case. It’s perfect.”

           “Well, you and Keith are the brothers-in-arms who always have each other’s backs, fighting side-by-side against evil. So I’m fairly certain you’re a storybook refugee yourself.”

           Lance grinned widely and leaned back against the tub. “Face it, Allura: You and I are pretty much the two luckiest people in the universe.”

           She smirked a little. “No, we’re not. Shiro and Keith are.”

           “I stand corrected.”

Handle Me

Ivar x Reader 

Warning: possible triggers, mature themes

Originally posted by all-about-that-fandoms

You shifted awkwardly in your chair, hands immediately going to smooth down the skirt of your floor length dress. It was not often that you wore such dresses, or any dresses for that matter. Being born on a farm and raised without a woman in your life, you were not a graceful being. You were a shield maiden, a fierce fighter. This has earned you several scars among your body, that littered it alongside the several tattoos that you had been given as sign of comradeship with your other fellow soldiers.

It was an understatement to say that you felt uncomfortable as you sat down next to the usual flower picking girls around the table. You were sitting next to Ubbe, who had Margrethe on his other side. He must have picked up on your awkwardness when you had first entered the dining hall and quickly motioned for you to sit down next to him. You were very grateful, and finally realized why almost all the women in Kattegat melted at the sight of him – not only was he attractive, but he was also a very caring man.

A hand suddenly clamped upon your lower calf. You let out a small yelp, and your battle reflexes immediately took over, making you take whatever you had in your hand (which happened to be a fork) and slam it onto the arm that was holding your leg in a vicious grip. Luckily for your attacker, he quickly moved his arm away. Your fork was now stuck halfway into the wooden floor, its hilt bent oddly towards a side.

“Impressive.”

Keep reading

partners. | m

characters: g-dragon x reader ➵ genre: smut ➵ wc: 12.7k

Originally posted by s-tttop

summary: from childhood friends to business owners. too afraid to take it further, either your or jiyong has to make the first move.
author’s note: this is by far my longest work ever. i’m not gonna lie though, i’ve been living for these 5k+ fics, i’m gonna have to start writing more. and i know, i write a lot of g-dragon, don’t kill me for it.
masterlist
disclaimer 

Keep reading

8

Dawnstar in JLA Adventures: Trapped in Time (2014):

In the movie, Dawnstar is a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes from the 31st century. She comes from the planet Starhaven, a world populated by Native Americans abducted from Earth by an unknown alien race in the 13th Century. Dawnstar’s people are of Pueblo heritage and have been genetically engineered to have large sets of wings that grow out of their upper backs by the alien race who resettled them. Her abilities in the movie include flight, long-range tracking and photokinesis (which also possesses healing properties).

A few years ago I was at an anime con with my then 9 year old daughter. Attack on Titan had just finished it’s US broadcast and was at the height of it’s popularity. We were sitting in a panel room with Josh Grelle, the voice actor of Armin Arlert and Lauren Landa (Annie). They were entertaining questions from the audience.

I don’t know how many of you go to cons, but the questions at these events tend to be repetitive. People ask far too many about shipping. They ask about life as a voice actor, they ask the actors their favorite, hardest, easiest moments and so on. Trust me when I say voice actors are patient people.

About 30 minutes in, my daughter’s hand shot up and Josh called on her. She walked to the microphone and asked, “Do you think Armin will ever see the ocean?”

Josh, Lauren and the entire room let out a collective awwwwww and a few people actually got emotional–Josh included. He finally said, “I sure hope so. If I have one wish for this story it’s that Armin gets to see the ocean.”

I don’t share a lot of personal pictures, but I’ll make an exception here since meeting Josh was the greatest day of her life.

My daughter’s anime tastes have long since moved on to swimmers and setters, spikers and bikers, and those adorable ice skating boys, but Armin Arlert is still Her Guy. And while she doesn’t read the manga, she follows Armin-centric instagram accounts and each month asks me for details of his life. So yesterday when she came home from school, I was excited and happy to show her the panels of Armin happily splashing in the ocean. She’s waited basically a quarter of her life for this moment. 

So please believe me when I say I get it. I am  happy for everyone who loves Armin and the rest of the 104th. It was a great moment for you and I felt joy seeing your joy (especially yours @daydream24-7 and @guyinlovewitheremika ).

That said, I also completely understand the rage and disappointment in this chapter. I personally am struggling myself. This was a terrible chapter for anyone who loved Erwin, Ymir, or the Warriors. The time skip essentially rendered all of our pain as unimportant and inconsequential. We’re having to accept that everything we wanted and needed regarding our favorite characters isn’t going to happen.

We’re never going to see Nile, Pixis or, ya know, Levi’s reaction to Erwin’s death. Any conflicted feelings over eating Bert are probably long since resolved. We won’t get Reiner’s reaction. Ymir is probably dead. We’re expected to accept that Historia read her letter and got on with her life. And Annie–who dat?

It’s not just the characters I’m mourning, I have concerns about the story. In two pages the titan threat that hung over us is just gone. And not by some cool  awesome use of the coordinate, but by a titan guillotine that slowly picked them off one by one. It feels cold and anti-climactic.

I have so many questions. What about the structure of the military? Is there still a Survey Corps? What have they been doing for a year? Aren’t they worried about Zeke and Reiner? I’m sorry but you do not put a time skip in the middle of a battle. You do not leave that many threads hanging. I wanted and expected so much more.

And now people are resettling Wall Maria. What about all those bodies? Not just Erwin’s, but there are a hundred dead SC members rotting in the sun. I used to accept that there was no time to mourn the dead, but they’ve obviously had nine months of relative peace. I hope a little of that went into consideration for the fallen but we’ll never know.

While the day at the beach was nice, I’m struggling with the point of it. Was it simply to prove that Grisha’s journals were trustworthy? If so, wouldn’t being surrounded by 50 meter walls that are stuffed with a colossal titan filling be enough to prove that? 

Clearly I’m still processing all of this. I keep telling myself to be patient and give it more time, but how much more time do I allow? My biggest concern is if Isayama can still pull off a satisfying story, or is this an indication that he’s lost interest and is trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible. I’m looking forward to reading the meta of the people who I know are more objective than I am. I’m interested in hearing their thoughts. Maybe they’ll help soothe mine.

Anyway, thank you for listening. I just needed to get this out. 

Aches and Pains

Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: mention of sleeplessness, fluff, ALL OF THE SMUT.

A/N: Titles are not one of my strengths. Anyway, and this was an Anon request that I got a few days ago. I hope it’s okay… Enjoy?

Anon Request – “hello love! i absolutely adore your writing and i wish i had the kind of motivation you do. but i don’t, so i have a request! do you think you could do one about human!cas being tense and sore and having issues sleeping so the reader (who’s like secretly in love with him) offers to give him a massage and some tips on how to get to sleep better??? maybe throw in some smut (teaching him to jerk it??? idk whatever you like) you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. thanks doll

The moans and groans coming from the other side of the wall made your stomach sink. For the last three weeks, you knew Cas had been having trouble sleeping, but tonight was the worst so far. You had just ended a big hunt, Cas’s first as a human. He as having a hard time accepting the fact that he wasn’t some tough, invincible Angel of the Lord anymore. And worse, he needed to sleep, which meant nightmares.

You turned over in bed as you tried to drown out the former angel’s cries. But it was no use, he was miserable, and you needed to help him. You loved him, and you couldn’t leave him like this.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

McHanzo #45? :3

“Tell me a secret.”

Hanzo stretches his arms above his head, gives a contented sigh as the motion pulls out the tightness in his shoulders and spine, and resettles with his arms crossed under the pillow. Beside him, he catches McCree watching him, his gaze flickering down Hanzo’s nude body until it hits the blanket over his lower back, then up again, admiring. Hanzo resists the urge to preen under the attention.

“How’d I ever get so lucky,” McCree murmurs. He rolls onto his side to face Hanzo, leaving a scant few inches between them that, compared to the utter lack of space a few minutes prior, feels like a vast expanse. He reaches over to tenderly brush a piece of hair from Hanzo’s face. Hanzo lets his eyes close, enjoying the simple touch for what it is.

The room around them is dark, the blinds drawn shut with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through at the edge. The rest of the base is utterly quiet, everyone else having gone to sleep. They are the only two awake, and here int his room, they have an intimate bubble all to themselves separate the vast grounds of the Watchpoint.

McCree’s fingers stroke down the side of Hanzo’s face reverently. “Hey,” he says. When Hanzo opens his eyes, McCree continues, “Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?” Hanzo repeats.

“Somethin’ you haven’t told anyone else. I wanna know something about you that no one else does.”

Hanzo thinks for a moment. Eventually, he offers, “I used to think Genji’s green hair made him look like a carrot.”

McCree coughs out a surprised laugh. “What?”

“He used to wear this orange scarf when we were younger, which was fine by itself, but once he dyed his hair … I never told him. He seemed so pleased that I did not want to ruin it for him.”

McCree chuckles, shaking his head awkwardly against the pillow. “As amazin’ as that is,” he says, “I wanted to hear something about you.”

Then perhaps you should give me an example for me to go by.”

McCree hums. His thumb stops its repetitive strokes against Hanzo’s cheek. “I guess that’s fair,” he says. “In that case … I used to have a Deadlock tattoo, right here on my left arm.” He slightly wiggles the arm tucked under his pillow. “Before it got blew off. I could’ve gotten rid of the tat easy, but I kept it. I told everyone I just didn’t wanna deal with the hassle, but truth is, I kept it to remind myself where I came from. I didn’t wanna forget what I did when I was younger. It was horrible, but I wanted to remember so I wouldn’t ever go back to that again.”

He looks just a bit ashamed as he finishes his story, his gaze somewhere over Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo takes the hand resting against his face and presses a kiss to the knuckles.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

McCree laughs once. “Yeah,” he replies. Then he meets Hanzo’s eye again. “So. What about you?”

Hanzo thinks for a long moment, trying to find some detail of his life to match the intimacy of what McCree just shared with him. He has told every detail of his part in Genji’s death, now, and most of what the Shimada clan was like. Everything else seems either too shameful or too tame. Finally, though, he settles on something. 

“I have … I have never had something like this before,” he says softly. 

“Like what?”

“This relationship. Us.” McCree says nothing, waiting for him to continue, so he does. “I had no interest in others, growing up, and the clan always came first. I could have pursued someone, if I chose, but I did not. There were a few brief flings with others, one-night stands, but never someone I … really cared for. And after Genji, I simply did not think of it again. I was lonely, perhaps, but it did not matter, because I did not deserve it.”

“Oh, darlin’,” McCree starts to say, but Hanzo shakes head against his pillow. 

“I know you will say that is not the case, but that is not the point I am trying to make,” he says. “But that is my secret. Everything with us is new to me.”

McCree’s gaze holds steady with his. “And now?” he asks. “Is this all alright?”

Hanzo smiles. He scoots forward on the pillow until he can press his brow against McCree’s, brushing the tips of their noses together. 

“It is more than alright,” he says. “It is more than I could have ever hoped to have.”

anonymous asked:

for the softer world prompt: 23 for Yuuri and Victor?

(With thanks to @n-x-northwest for thinking up some past Yuuri programs for me!)

23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

“I should call your mother,” Victor says.

“You should sleep.” Yuuri smiles, fond. “I already texted her.”

The scratchy comforter of the Fukuoka airport motel is making a dent in his cheek. Behind him, Makkachin is determined to make a proper pillow out of his hipbone. This is Katsuki Yuuri, and he just qualified for the Grand Prix Final, Victor had told the person at the front desk. It did not get them an upgrade.

Yuuri’s never been so comfortable somewhere this uncomfortable. But Victor looks as bone-tired as Yuuri feels. He’s not sure he’ll be able to drift off until they both do.

“She’ll worry. She was worried about you.” Victor looks, all of a sudden, very awake. “She knew you’d be fine, of course, we all knew you’d be fine, but–”

Yuuri shifts closer, until he can nestle his head between Victor’s chin and his sternum. Makkachin makes a little whine of protest, but quickly resettles.

Victor makes circular motions with his fingers through Yuuri’s scalp. It’s the kind of soft repetition that’s always calmed Yuuri - Victor must know that, must have noticed that by now. If Yuuri was any calmer than he is right now, though, he might actually be dead.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t quite stop himself from mumbling, “I came in fourth.”

“What better media narrative.” Victor’s chest shudders with his laugh. “I always knew under that reserved exterior you had a healthy sense of drama.”

Yuuri squints up at him. “What gave it away?”

“Vivaldi,” says Victor. “Winter.”

“I can’t believe you watched that,” Yuuri says.

“I saw it in person, bunny,” Victor reminds him gently. “At Worlds that year.”

Yuuri’s brow creases. It’s true, but. There’s something distinctly outside reality about the thought of it. The two of them had always, to Yuuri, never quite existed on the same plane. “We were in different groups.”

“If Katsuki Yuuri is skating within 50 feet of me, I am going to notice him,” Victor says airily. “It’s a law of physics.”

Yuuri smiles into Victor’s collarbone. He’s not going to sleep until Victor does. He’s not. His eyelids are getting heavier, but that’s fine. Everything feels distant and soft.

“I should have gone looking for you,” Victor says quietly. “Told you how good you were.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Yuuri reaches up and traces the line of Victor’s cheek. “But I would have ended up telling you that your Scheherazade program was the only thing that got me through that first year of college.”

He expects Victor to laugh there. He meant it to be funny. But Victor’s arm wraps, secure, around his waist.

“See, then,” he says. “We both made mistakes.”

Reverie

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean spends a few minutes waxing poetic about his beautiful girlfriend

A/N: honestly this was all inspired by one comment @deanssweetheart23 made on a photoset of Dean.  (hope you don’t mind me tagging you, just wanted to give you credit).  So thanks for that…

also, it feels really good to right for my husband again, so if anyone has any dean requests, i’ll take them into consideration, despite my crazy schedule :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, mostly just Dean being a sap.  so like, all fluff

Words: 1671 (it’s just a tiny lil thing)

tagging my dean beans @ravengirl94 and @daughterofthebrowncoats

Dean can’t fight the smile that’s creeping onto his face.  He’s staring, and he knows it’s a little weird—even if you are his girlfriend.  But something about the way you look, so focused on your book, your whole body enraptured, perched so precariously in the overstuffed armchair on the other side of the table. Something about you makes him weak.  So he allows the smile, and the blatant staring.  

You haven’t noticed yet, and Dean is grateful that your book is so intriguing, because it gives him time to study you, to make a list of everything he loves about you as he tries not the fall asleep at the uncomfortable library table.

Keep reading

itsallyd  asked:

Okay hers a funny (or sad if you want idk) soulmate au- where your soulmates first thoughts of you are tattooed on your arm. Ex "I literally want to climb him like a mountain" or "this bitch did not just cut me off"

@itsallyd I was going to do this Spideypool at first but I liked Starkquill better!

*************************

Tony was completely embarrassed by his soulmark. So embarrassed in fact, that he only ever wore long sleeve shirts. People thought he wore long sleeves to cover up the scars from his arc reactor and several years as Iron man, but really it was to cover his soulmark.

Stupid soulmate destiny crap. Most people had sweet things tattooed on their arm, the very first thoughts their soulmate would have about them. Things like ‘I could drown in their eyes’ or ‘Shes so beautiful it almost hurts’.

Not Tony. No, Tonys soulmark was written in big blocky letters and read “Dat ass is outta this world”.

By the time Tony had turned sixteen, he knew when he met his soulmate he was gonna punch him square in the face for being such a horny, pervy creep.

But life happens and things got in the way and Tony got so busy with the world ending and all that, that eventually he was only kind of annoyed by his soulmark, and wearing a long sleeve shirt was just as much a habit as it was a necessity so no one saw the obnoxious words.

So when Tony met Peter Quill, the goofy but cute leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, he didnt think anything about reaching out to shake his hand, grinning when the man looked him up and down with a lazy smile and sparkling eyes.

I do love me a Spaceman. Tony thought.

And then Peter opened his mouth and said– “You must be an alien. Cuz dat ass is outta this world.”

*********************

Peter had never been knocked out by a human before, much less by a human who stood a full six inches shorter than him and had gone from checking him out to decking him all within about five seconds.

“What did I say?” he sputtered from the ground when his eyes opened and one very furious Tony Stark was staring down at him. “I was just teasing you! I mean I really wasnt because you’re hot as hell but come on. You gotta knock a guy out?”

“Look, Spaceman!” Tony spat, but whatever other righteously angry words he was ready to shout were quickly muffled when Peter reached up and pulled him down on top of him, covering his mouth in a sloppy, overly eager kiss.

“Get off!” Tony shoved at him but Peter just rolled until he was laying on top and tossed his jacket away, showing Tony the curling letters on his forearm.

I do love me a Spaceman.

“Son of a bitch.” Tony tried to be mad, but when Peter reached for his shirt he just sighed and pulled up his sleeves so Peter could see his mark as well.

Dat ass is outta this world.

“You poor thing.” Peter was laughing. “You had to have that written on you all these years? At least mine was cute.”

“Get off me.” Tony rolled his eyes but Peter shook his head and resettled against him, gentler this time, running careful fingers through Tonys hair.

“Traveled galaxies to find you, soulmate. Not letting you go now.”

“At least your real life charm makes up for your ridiculous pick up line.” Tony huffed, but he wasnt mad anymore when Peter kissed him again.

Circassian women in Jordan

The history of Circassians alongside other ethnic groups originating from the Caucasus in Jordan dates back to XIXth century. The city of Amman began to be resettled in 1878, when hundreds of Circassians arrived following their exodus from the Caucasus; between 1872–1910, tens of thousands of Circassians had relocated to Ottoman Syria after being displaced by the Russian Empire during the events of the Russo-Circassian War.

Ottoman records from 1906 show around 5,000 Circassians living in Amman and virtually no inhabitants who spoke Arabic. The city’s demographics changed dramatically after the Ottoman government’s decision to construct the Hejaz Railway, which linked Damascus and Medina, and facilitated the annual Hajj pilgrimage and trade. Because of its location along the railway, Amman was transformed from a small village into a major commercial hub in the region.

Location: Amman, Jordan

Photographer:  Saad Al-Enezi

Next week, between 150 and 200 people will gather for a Passover seder at Temple Beth-El in Richmond, Va. When the traditional Passover question is posed — “Why is this night different from all other nights?” — there’s a new answer. Guests at the Seder, co-sponsored by the refugee aid agency ReEstablish Richmond, will include approximately two dozen locally resettled immigrants from Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria.

Passover, after all, is the ultimate refugee holiday. It’s about an ancient flight to freedom by Israelites who were oppressed in Egypt. And the world is currently facing an unprecedented refugee crisis, with 65.3 million refugees worldwide.

One new version of the Haggada, from the American Jewish World Service, makes a direct connection: “Around the world today, courageous people are making similar journeys — leaving behind violence, poverty and persecution and seeking security, freedom, prosperity and peace.”

Against this backdrop, a number of Jewish organizations are offering new readings and rituals to include at the festive meal known as the Seder. These additions, says Rabbi Jonah Dov Pesner, director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, are in keeping with the fact that the Haggada — the text read at the Seder — has always been flexible, “less of a fixed text than a user guide to tell the story.”

Why Add A Banana To The Passover Table?

Illustration: Franziska Barczyk for NPR