this is the first thing that occurred to me when i saw it

My student submitted the most disturbing “Living History” project I’ve ever seen 

By reddit user gretelcat

One of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity (and for an easy way to bring up their GPA).

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Thoughts and theories post S307

We got a clue to how the different dimensions work. These three dudes are obviously iterations of the same Rick who all encountered the same event in varying degrees of severity. It could just be that these three dimensions are right next to each other, but the numbering convention suggests that they’re true splits from one original dimension, caused by that event. 

If that’s true, it means that every time a major event occurs, timelines splinter into different offshoot possibilities. The Ricks that stay most “normal” keep their original dimension number and the others take on an iteration of that number based on the level of divergence. This also helps account for how the population of the citadel bounced back so quickly after the massacre in S301. As time goes on more splits in dimensions means a constant influx of more Ricks and Mortys.

Not every rick invents the portal gun. The portal gun is rick’s ultimate source of power and what allows the citadel to exist. From what we learned from the half-truths in S301′s portal gun origin backstory, Ricks ostensibly go from dimension to dimension giving portal technology to other Ricks rather than each Rick inventing it on his own. Plus we saw in the last episode that the Mortytown Rick tries and fails to make portal fluid, and cop Rick calls it out “bootleg,” plus the factory Rick demands a portal gun because he must not be able to make one of his own. 

For the Ricks that didn’t invent their own, portal fluid and guns are regulated and not allowed to all Ricks freely. It begs the question of how many Ricks actually invented the portal gun on their own. In theory, it would only take just one figuring it out and then sharing it with all the others.

More evidence for Evil Morty = Rick’s original Morty. This has been a fan theory since Evil Morty first showed up but after S307 the evidence is even stronger. Evil Morty dodges questions about his original dimension and Rick, instead diverting with “we moved around a lot.” That basically leaves the door wide open for the reveal of him being Rick’s og Morty.

Plus, if the moving around part wasn’t a lie, that means he and Rick skipped universes Cronenberg-style more than once (Rick did say he’d pulled that stunt before). Think how disillusioned just one dimension move made our Morty, it’s no wonder Evil Morty turned into what he is if he went through multiple ruined dimensions. Beyond that, our Morty has been shown to be getting more jaded and downright cruel this season, enough that people were thinking he was turning into Evil Morty. If our Morty has devolved into his current state with just being around our Rick for a few years, imagine how the Morty our Rick was around since when he was a baby would have turned out.

Cop Rick is alive for a reason. He killed Cop Morty and turned himself in expecting to be shot off into space, but in the end he’s released by Ricks under evil Morty’s control. Him being alive still is not insignificant, even if just for the narrative and character implications more than plot reasons. 

Cop Rick’s first instinct is to trust. He trusted the Morty in the room with the crib. He trusted Cop Morty to do the right thing. He wants to believe in true justice and the goodness in people, and acts on that belief no matter the outcome for him. 

The real gut punch is he’s not just an outlier. He shows that Ricks do have an infallible sense of justice when it’s not smothered out by narcissism and nihilism. We’ve seen that our Rick, despite being an asshole, will choose to do the right thing- even if it’s the hard thing- at crucial moments: He puts the collar on Morty instead of himself when they’re falling to their deaths in the void, he turns himself in to the Galactic Federation in order to save his family. 

Cop Rick is still alive because he’s the hero our Rick would be if he wasn’t such a jaded asshole. He’s the proof that despite everything, Rick is at his core trying to be good. Maybe that kind of Rick is valuable to Evil Morty, or maybe it was just valuable to us to see this side of Rick so explicitly.

Evil Morty wants control. Evil Morty is living the ideal Morty existence, in control of himself and the universe around him. It’s all he’d want after a life where Rick was always in control, where he could do nothing to stop the machinations of the universe from nearly crushing him every adventure. As we saw really plainly with Copy Morty, when a Morty gets enough knowledge, experience, and freedom, they can’t stand being treated like sidekicks anymore. No wonder the Ricks put them in a school designed not to teach them to be more competent on adventures but instead to keep them helpless and subservient. 

It’s easy enough to follow the same trend in our Morty. He’s been fighting for more control all season– He chooses not to try to rescue Rick from prison. He’s fine with going against Rick’s plan in the Mad Max world. He’s the one who makes them go on the adventure with the Vindicators (and Rick loses his shit when he doesn’t get to be the only one saving the day anymore). And perhaps most telling, Morty’s ideal toxin-free self abandons Rick entirely and creates a situation where his whole job is to manipulate and control other people. 

Evil Morty is what happens when Morty’s struggle for power goes to it’s furthest degree. He wanted so bad to not be the sidekick anymore that he’d do anything, even if it meant becoming the villain. 

Bangtan Fic Rec

All of these are on ao3, they’re all shipping fics. I’ll add more as I read, these are just the ones I’ve read so far. My opinion is in italics, I only added the pairing, summary and theme of the fics, not the warnings and ratings so check those out when you’re gonna read them because some of them contain either smut, death or violence. You’ve been warned.

Fics in this list: 43.


I dream in the shape of your mouth by jonghyun | Namjin, College!AU.

Summary: Seokjin spends a lot of time in the library. Now, Namjoon does too. Taemin tries to summon Satan, and Jimin is a fuckboy.

*Jackson voice* Cute

Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast by Kavbj | Taekook, College!AU, Fantasy!AU

Summary: Taehyung has magic in his veins and Jungkook’s determined not to let it kill him.

Dude. This fic is so creative and well-written… I finished it and felt empty.

beat for me (live for me)  by bakkushan | Namjin, Mafia!AU part of the offer me your deathless death series.

Summary: Namjoon’s looking at himself and then at Seokjin and all he can see is Life and Death lying next to each other under a starless sky.

I cried like a bitch with this one, painful as fuck.

All you need is love (and pink) by vppa | NamJin, Angels and Demons!AU.

Summary: Most people only have one miniature angel or devil riding on their shoulders to serve as the physical manifestation of their conscience. Poor Namjoon has five, and they’re all telling him the same thing: “fucking talk to him god dammit what the fuck is wrong with you”

Funny and sweet. I like it.

Can I Get Your Dewey Decimal Number? by melecs| NamJin, Library!AU.

Summary: Seokjin loved working at the library, but some patrons got on his nerves. Take, for example, the grown man who sat in the corner every day and leeched off of the Wi-Fi. And Seokjin worked in the children’s department.

Ah, this is… something else, for sure. Cute as hell. Funny, too.

The less I know the better by mucha | Taegi, Namjin, Fake Relationship!AU

Summary: “Together with their families, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin… Wow, this is formal… Wait,” Hoseok squints at the paper, before looking back at Yoongi with a quizzical look on his face. “They invited you with a guest? But… You’re single, right?”

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin glares at him over the bar, crossing his arms sternly over his chest. “If you’re seeing someone and you didn’t tell us I will kick your ass, so help me god.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Yoongi sighs, grabbing the invitation and scanning it quickly. The words “with a guest” are underlined and Yoongi can almost see it: the smugness on his brother’s face as he nods with satisfaction, putting the pencil down.

“So what does it mean?”

Yoongi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding making eye contact.

“I might’ve… invented a boyfriend,” he finally mumbles to the glass in front of him.

This is so good, amazing, incredible. Brilliant. Entertaining as hell.

Star Light, Star Bright (The Last Star I’ll See Tonight) by DreamsOfAnotherReality | Taekook, Yoonseok, Teen!AU.

Summary: Jung Kook and Taehyung fall in love the summer Hoseok goes missing.  

Hoseok just wanted to see the stars and confess to Yoongi gdi bye I’m gonna fucking kill myself.

Creating a home series by CheekyBrunette | Namjin, Foster Parents!AU

Summary: A BTS Foster Care AU

This AU is so cute and fluffy I love Domestic!Namjin

The Professor’s Family series by EquinoxSolstice | Taekook, NamJin, Family!AU

Summary: Professor Kim Namjoon is married.

He doesn’t have a wife.

They have a sort-of son.

And Jeon Jungkook just crossed paths with them.

Read this. It’s great, I promise.

The Greatest by Little_Dimples | jikook, College!AU, Sports!AU.

Summary: Person A is a hockey player person B a figure skater. Person A is told he needs more grace on the ice so he is forced to get lessons by person B. Problem is they hate each other.

Or Person A is Jungkook and Person B is Jimin.

I had so much fun reading this you don’t get it. As I was reading in class i had to hide my face because I was smiling so much. Really good fic.

400 minutes | yoonmin, School!AU.

Summary: Min Yoongi expected a lot of weird experiences to happen when he went to college, but being the roommate of his high school love who apparently “moved away for good” was not one of them.

Angsty but in a good way.

Beta Tau Sigma by bazooka | Namjin, Yoonmin, College!AU, Frat!AU.

Summary: A collection of events occurring within (and without) the walls of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house.
At Beta Tau Sigma, there are only a few rules:

1) have a declared major in the College of Music;
2) keep your GPA above a 3.4;
3) don’t let Taehyung into the liquor cabinet;
4) don’t fuck up with Kim Seokjin. The rest is all fine print.

(Rating changed to M for sexual content in ch17.)

OKAY, THIS FIC IS THE END OF EVERYTHING FOR ME. My Favorite Fic Of All Time. Nothing is ever gonna top this for me, even House of Cards. This fic has it all, humor, angst, fluff, smut. Everything. Incredible fic. Golden fic.

cuz in a sky full of stars (I think I saw you) by wowoashley | Taekook, Namjin, Fake Relationship!AU

Summary: taehyung always has bad ideas. and jeongguk thinks this might be the best.

This is so cute and cliché but in a good way, I really love this fic.

ce monde est une têmpete by astringxnt | Taekook, Yoonmin, Namjin, College!AU

Summary: they say that one should fall in love with their eyes open, but Jungkook keeps his closed, and Taehyung is afraid that they’ll fall in all the wrong places.

the concept of strings in space time theory is that on a one dimensional plane, one only has the option of going backwards or forwards in their direction of travel. Jungkook chooses to be swept along into the unknown, with Taehyung as his only anchor.

AMAZING! I really like the plot of this one.

Safe and Sound by bazooka | Namjin, Royalty!AU.

Summary: From a tumblr prompt: Jin is a prince, and Namjoon is his bodyguard.

“You’re sort of bad at this.”
“Nah. You’re safe, aren’t you?”

Prince!Jin. That’s all I have to say about this fic. Amazing.

(thought you knew) you were in this song by expplipo | Taekook, Yoonseok, Namjin, Soulmate!AU

Summary: Taehyung nearly chokes, but only nearly. Instead he raises an eyebrow and puts on the most suave smile he can manage. Hopes he looks far more collected than his for-some-reason racing heartbeat would let on, more suit-and-wine than elementary-schooler-with-a-new-crush. “You like me?”

Jeongguk blushes, and looks at his feet. He’s smiling. “Of course.”

“Really?” Taehyung says. “Like? Or like like?”

(So much for suit-and-wine.)

Nothing to say apart from it being amazing.

Common Thread by sugafree | Yoonmin, Namjin, Soulmate!AU

Summary: Red String of Fate AU where Yoongi doesn’t believe in soulmates and spends a long time trying to avoid a certain someone on the other end of his red thread.

I’m a sucker for Soulmates, but this fic is good regardless, love the way it’s written.

for you, anything by kadotas | Vmin, Yoonkook, Namjin, Marriage!AU

Summary: “Talk dirty to me,” Taehyung says lowly into Jimin’s ear, breath ghosting Jimin’s earlobe, eliciting a slight shudder from the latter.

“I’m not wearing underwear,” Jimin whispers back, pulling back to look Taehyung in the eye.

Taehyung groans gruffly at this, breaking the eye contact to lean down and nip Jimin’s jawline gently. “God yes baby that’s just-“

“I’m not wearing any underwear because you never fucking put the laundry in the fucking dryer like I’ve asked you to 100 times,” Jimin hisses, voice strained with vehemence, glaring at him and Taehyung sighs defeatedly.

(in which Taehyung and Jimin navigate through married life together, realising belatedly that it’s not always smooth sailing.)

Domestic Vmin is the best Vmin.

Let me know by TheOrgasmicSeke | Yoonmin, Yoonkook, Jikook, Yoonminkook, Namjin, Vhope, I Need U!AU, Poly!AU

Summary: Talking about it, of course, became harder as the days passed by. Yoongi could never find the right time to bring it up. He was still wondering if he was just imaging things. If he was just thinking he was feeling the things he was feeling. But that was quickly disproved every single time Jimin curled up around him and Jungkook kissed him. He was a fucking idiot in love with two bigger idiots and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Except probably ruin it by talking about it. Hell, maybe it was better to just never mention it and pretend it wasn’t happening.

So good. No other words.

Find the value of an elephant by tired angry egg (Mirabelle) | Namjin, Highschool!AU, Tutor!AU

Summary: When Kim Taehyung’s academic situation takes a turn for the worse, his mother is convinced to hire a highly recommended tutor in the hopes for a miracle that would turn her son into a conscientious student. Her eldest son, Seokjin, has a far more skeptical opinion on this entire thing, expecting it to be-lest he sugarcoat it-a complete failure. And Kim Namjoon is just really bad at making good first impressions (or second ones, or just impressions altogether).

Cute and funny.

A Sociolinguistic Analysis of Epenthesis in Academic Convergence by bazooka | Namjin, College!AU, Professor!AU

Summary: Epenthesis
A phonological phenomenon in which two disparate sounds meet, creating a third sound between them which wasn’t there before.

There were a lot of jobs worse than being partnered with world-renowned Absent-Minded Professor Kim Namjoon, but Professor Kim Seokjin couldn’t think of what any of them were at the moment.

THIS! IS! SO! GOOD! Honestly, I’m in love with this fic.

The Mark of an Educated Mind by bazooka | Namjin, Metafiction.

Summary: At three o'clock in the morning after he’d been working for ten hours straight and everything he touched came out wrong and all his words were stilted and clumsy and all his music was rough and tangled… for some ungodly reason Kim Namjoon opened up a new browser window, typed bangtan sonyeondan fan fiction into the search bar, and then (god) hit enter.

No comment.

A Wonderful Institution by bazooka | Namjin, Yoonmin, Wedding Planner!AU.

Summary: Kim Seokjin is a wedding caterer. Kim Namjoon is a wedding planner.

Both of them think marriage is a societal construct with no place in modern life. Neither of them would know Real Love if it came up to them at a wedding and made a wager.

I love this fic because it’s so cute and funny to me.

Just Skin by syubology | Taegi, College!AU.

Summary: Yoongi is small and angry and 200% done with having feelings; Taehyung is Taehyung; Hoseok harasses Yoongi with petnames and Jimin ships Yoonseok. That’s basically it.

The fic that made me ship Taegi.

Pour up (Drank) by mindheist | Taekook, College!AU, Frat!AU.

Summary: If you can read this, take another shot.

LISTEN. This fic is so good it’s almost Beta Tau Sigma and that’s saying a lot because I love that fic. Anyways, the story in this one is great and it has its funny moments as well as fluffy and frustrating ones. Great fic.

Sidereal by darling | Vmin, Childhood Friends!AU.

Summary: Here we observe the Earth and the Sun in their natural habitat: each other.

This is all cute and fluffy in some parts but deep in others. Beautiful fic, I like the concept.

half a soul divided by jynxu | Minjoon, Taekook, Yoonseok, Soulmate!AU

Summary: Park Jimin has never been on a date. Nor has he had his first kiss, flirted with anyone, or fallen in love. His classmates would ridicule him and base nicknames over his distaste toward anything romantic. (Look, here comes Saint Jiminie!) Even his younger brother would make fun of him while his parents watched with pitying looks on their faces.

Nobody understood.

or: soulmate au where your soulmate’s date of death is tattooed on your wrist.

This made me cry. At school. No joke my friends were worried. Great fic, read if you want to cry.

Out of My System by xxdevilishxx | Yoonmin, Vhope, Namjin, One Night Stand!AU.

Summary: Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club.

I read this instead of studying. Really good and interesting, I like the characters.

refrigerator humming, chewing gum and instant karma by locks | Taekook, Gangster!AU, Mafia!AU.

Summary: Taehyung sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder. “Dearest Taehyung, just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. I hope you’re thinking about me too. Love–” he pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. “Hyung, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love for me?”

Yoongi drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand.

Or, Taehyung’s been trying his hardest to avoid Yoongi’s criminal life for a long ass time, but a cute kid and his infuriating father keep pulling him deeper into the mix.

Cute and a good read, the concept is awesome and I like the way it’s written.

House of Cards by sugamins | Taekook, Vmin, Jikook, Vminkook, Mafia!AU, Gangster!AU.

Summary: Jungkook is the heir to a mob empire, the most notorious in the whole of Seoul. Taehyung is a rookie sent in to infiltrate by his select team and bring the empire crumbling down.

“You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated.”

Trailer. This fic. I have no words. It’s beautifully written and the plot is amazing, really interesting and just plain good. The fic to end all Mafia!AUs. Nothing is ever gonna top this for me. It’s also a long read.

Let Me In Or Let Me Down by noraebangbang | Yoonmin, A/B/O.

Summary: Yoongi hates dealing with heat cycles and suppressants and life in general. Everything is a terrible mess, and then there’s Jimin to make things a tiny bit brighter.

Now, listen, I don’t really like ABO, but this fic is so good that I wanna like it because if there are any other ABO fics like this gem then I’m in for a treat.

Kickstart series by Error401 | Yoonmin, Namjin, Vhope, Gangster!AU, Hitman!AU

Summary: Hitman!Yoongi AU.

The plot of this series is really interesting, I read it all in one sitting because I just needed more. It’s really good.

The Still Point (Of The Turning World) by inkingbrushes | Yoonseok, Reincarnation!AU, Soulmates!AU, Multiple lives!AU.

Summary: Because Yoongi doesn’t know how this started, or how this will end, but he knows this simple fact: he knows that there is a love between them that is much fiercer than the burning sun. There is that love then, and there is that love now, and surely there will be that same love the next time.

(Or: the one where they’re reincarnated over and over again and Yoongi meets a different version of Hoseok every time but Yoongi is the only one that remembers.)

Ok, this fic made me cry really hard and I’m still affected by it. It’s beautiful and sad and you should totally read it.

Horizon Zero Dawn and Cultural appropriation: A very different view.

For the first time EVER, I’m sitting on the other side of a discussion about appropriating native culture.  Why?  Well, let me lay the framework.

First off, I’m not a guy who “knows a Native American” or has a “Native friend”  I am a 100% Anishinabe (Ojibway) dude who lives on reserve and has fought racism, stereotypes, pan-Indianism, and cultural appropriation fiercely for as long as I can remember. I’ve been the victim of horrendous racial violence as a child, adolescent, and adult, and I’m also a gamer.

I am the first to point out anything that smacks of any of the above and after I saw the Dia Lacina essay on “Horizon: Zero Dawn” being culturally insensitive and appropriating Native culture, I felt for the first time in a situation like this that I had to say something in rebuttal.

Lacina takes issue with the use of the words Tribal, Primitive, Braves, and Savage being used in the game (fyi they’re used to describe predominantly white people in game and they’re White words we didn’t use to describe ourselves thus I claim no ownership of, nor want to, anymore than I want to be a redskin, Indian or Wahoo)  

It seems (IMO) that most of her beef comes from an apparent belief that numerous aspects of generic tribal culture that appear in the game (making clothing from skins, hunting with spears and bows, living in a Matriarchal society, etc) are the sole domain of the Native American and just to be safe and cleverly keep her POV less subject to scrutiny, she applies it even more broadly to indigenous people world wide (I will just refer to us in particular as NA cuz I’m lazy and I also don’t refer to myself as a Native American) and basically that anything that is remotely “tribal” shouldn’t be used in gaming without our or someone else’s permission.

 In fairness, I don’t know if she’s actually played the game but as someone who is currently in the midst of doing exactly that, I can tell you that I have a pretty good idea of what stuff triggered her being upset and why, and while I absolutely respect her right to get offended by whatever she likes, and she makes excellent points about some other games, I am going to point out that there are flaws with this logic.

First of all, the basics: HZD is set in a post-post-apocalyptic future where people are living in tribal groups in a very destroyed world.  Machines exist but as hybrid animal/dinosaur type creatures and technology is pretty much non-existent in day to day human life.  

The heroine of the story is a red haired, white girl named Aloy who lives as an outcast with her adopted father, Rost.  Without giving a lot away, they are fiercely shunned by the local tribe for something Rost did and also the fact that Aloy is motherless.  

Impressively and rightly, though somewhat dismissively remarked upon by Lacina, is the way women and especially women of color are portrayed so positively in-game as this particular tribe is a total Matriarchy run by elders of various ethnicity.  African, Asian, White, and a variety of undefined people of color are common everywhere in the game.  (The leader of one band of warriors is a very fierce, commanding, intelligently portrayed black woman with a powerful presence.)  It reflects a fairly global society from a “skin color” perspective without any horrible accents or broken speech.

They worship an “All-Mother” goddess and their culture is (at least how I saw a lot of it) fairly heavy on European i.e. Celtic, Germanic, Scandinavian, etc type symbolism and the rest is filled in with mostly generic tribal-ish stuff that you could find in countless cultures around the world.

 I really didn’t get a “Native American” vibe off the game.  Of course, I don’t automatically presume to claim sole ownership of things like tribal life, hunting with bows and spears, and worshiping spirits of various elements solely for my own.  Random fact: Because there are over 500 distinct First Nations in N. America, we, believe it or not, didn’t all ride horses, live in tipis, use bows and arrows, tobacco and sage, and worship Eagles and Wolves.  Why? Well…use your brain.  Tobacco and Sage don’t grow EVERYWHERE, horses came over with the Europeans (and if you saw where I live you couldn’t have and cant for the most part get a horse through the bush if you tried) Eagles and Wolves don’t live EVERYWHERE….get the point?  Anyways….

If you examine Rost, he like most of the men has a braided beard and other seemingly Viking/Middle Ages inspired features, is white, speaks clear, unbroken English, and is a loving, protective and very positive role model for the girl.   Aloy for her part, is also fairly Viking-esque (to the point of looking incredibly like Lagaertha from the show Vikings but with red hair) also Egrit from GoT, and is no damsel in distress who needs men to save her. NOWHERE in the game have I encountered any Tipis, wigwams, Sweatlodges, or Non-White people speaking in stereotypical “Me smoke-um peace pipe, He go dat-a way” fashion.

The  opening cinematic is very touching (and long) as we see the orphaned Aloy as a baby in Rost’s care being carried around in a bundle on his back (which pretty much every culture did in one form or another at some point in time) and him ultimately taking her to the spot where a child of the tribe receives it’s name.

I really liked this idea as it isn’t often portrayed in a lot of mediums outside of stereotypical “Dances With Wolves” bullshit. Also, naming ceremonies are not the sole domain of NA people and what occurs bears zero resemblance to any NA ceremony I know of.  (It was actually a little Lion King at one point lol) But it’s a powerful moment in the beginning with much more that occurs during it but I won’t spoil that either.

Aloy herself is a pretty complex character.  She’s extremely independent, defiant, and questions pretty much everything about why things are the way they are and wants to do something about it.  You actually begin playing her as a 6 year old which is pretty unique and even then she’s tough and fearless and determined to explore her world.  

She is in no way hyper-sexualized (I’m looking your way Overwatch) Her clothing and everyone else’s, is utilitarian and appropriate for the environments she lives in, and so far, I have not encountered anything with her or any other character that made me go “WTF?”and trust me, my radar for that shit is HIGHLY SENSITIVE.  This isn’t Avatar, people.  It’s not John Smith. It’s not The Great Wall or Pocahontas.  This isn’t white dude shows up and saves the helpless non-white people while helpless native woman falls in love with him stuff.  It’s a fictitious future where we maniacs blew it up, damn us all to hell!

But here’s the more annoying thing for me as an actual Anishinabe.  I don’t need people speaking for me or getting offended on my behalf.  I am very capable of doing that myself. I am also in no way writing this claiming to be speaking for any other NA people or persons. It’s based on my observations from actually playing HZD and examining the various fictional “cultural” elements in the game.

If you see a skin tied inside a hoop and automatically assume it’s a dreamcatcher” ripping off “our culture” (FYI Dreamcatchers are a 20th century thing whose popularity was a result of pan-Indianism that exploded in the 70s.) or if you see feathers on a spear or as part of a costume (nowhere is anyone wearing a single eagle feather in the back of a beaded headband or a Dakota looking headdress either) and automatically presume it to be ripping off NA culture, you’re REEEEEEEEEEALY reaching.  If you think caring for the environment, obeying matriarchs, worshipping elemental spirits, or making your own clothes is solely the property of NA culture, see previous statement.

By all means get offended.  Get offended by Chief Wahoo.  Get offended by the Washington Redskins.  Get offended that thousands of Native women have been murdered or gone missing and nothing’s been done about it.  Get offended by Johnny Depp or Robert Beltran playing Native people instead of actual Native people getting those roles.  Get offended by shit like Adam Sandler’s “Ridiculous 6” where a native woman is called a “hot piece of red prairie meat” or Depp’s “Lone Ranger” movie.

Get offended that my family was destroyed by the Residential Schools and that the 60s scoop took babies away from their families and people, that forced sterilizations took place and mass graves of dead Native children exist at former Residential School sites.

Don’t just jump on the I’m offended bandwagon because you saw some feathers or skins or spears or bows in a game and immediately grew indignant and wanted to claim them as OUR culture.  They’re not.  They’re almost globally universal in numerous cultures at various points in time.  Get offended, as she rightly mentioned, when the game Overwatch sexualizes the shit out of almost every female character and takes West Coast tribal art and makes a costume out of it.  

THAT is appropriation.  White people holding powwows in Europe (powwows are also pretty much not traditional and are extremely pan-Indian, not to mention full of us appropriating each other’s Native cultures ie. Dakotas wearing Jingle Dresses, Ojibway wearing Dakota regalia, etc) is appropriation.

This game……I’m just not seeing it the same way.  And I’m nobody.  I have no ties to Guerilla or anybody other than myself and my community.

In general there is like. a whole category of Voltron angst premises that utterly fails to make me feel anything because it often severely underestimates the strength of the characters that it proposes to be breaking.

Like… Listen. Lance pretty dang likely had internal injuries and had spent a pretty impressive amount of time unresponsive and he woke up like that and shot Sendak in the shoulder before nearly back out again. This tells us Lance woke up, probably in no small amount of pain, probably pretty loopy since he remembered absolutely none of it afterwards, and the absolute first thing that occurred to him to do is Sendak was right there and he had a clear shot so, fuck that guy. He got in that situation in the first place because he saw a bomb going off and his first priority was to protect Coran- who at the time he’d known for… days, maybe? 

Pidge, the fourteen-year-old, who was pretty much entirely alone on the castle during that same time, having just lost contact with Allura, losing Rover and then hearing Shiro get tortured by Sendak- still kept her head about her enough to try and bait Sendak off with a hologram and was a major part of that fight. I mean. literally, take this emotionally compromised kid and go “you’re officially alone on a spaceship with murderous adult soldiers. They have your friends. They’re hurting your friends. You are the only one in position to do anything. Have fun.” And she won

Keith had his shoulder hacked pretty impressively in the first room of the Trial of Marmora and was given multiple opportunities to bail with a pretty clear pattern that the next room would be worse and have more attackers and Shiro states it as a given that Keith will not give up. Kolivan unambiguously tells him going in this is a life-or-death scenario. This is also Keith who willingly soloed freaking Zarkon with Coran actively telling him that he had no chance of surviving that fight because Zarkon is not getting the Black Lion.

Allura destroyed the last thing she had of her father in order to protect her team and let herself be captured by Zarkon in order to protect Shiro. She caught her second wind and held out against Haggar as best as she possibly could even knowing those odds were not good.

Coran picked a fight with Zarkon’s entire fleet piloting a ship ten thousand years old, alone, and did pretty dang good

Hunk actively, voluntarily, and enthusiastically picked a fight with a planet-eating monster stated to be one of the most dangerous things in space and long before that, all of his misgivings about signing up to save the universe evaporated like morning dew in the Sahara as soon as he saw what Shay and her people were going through. 

A lot of “angst” content seems to really disrespect or even ignore that these people are fighters. Survivors. These aren’t people who flake under pressure. In Shiro’s case, he literally never would have made it if he was. We see that at his worst, during his missing year, when he was utterly baffled by the idea anyone would help him and was pretty unsubtly about to be knocked out and experimented on- he was full of fight. There wasn’t much he could do but he wasn’t going down easily and if nothing else, the fact that there were two good-sized soldiers in full armor in the room taking the role of sedating him would tell us that Shiro didn’t exactly obediently walk to that room in the first place.

I see a lot of stuff that acts like Lance could get captured and in the time it’d take the team to get to him he could be ‘turned to the dark side’ or broken as a person and it’s like… the empire had a solid year to work on Shiro when the latter had the assumption that no one who would want to help him would even have the technology to reach him or even know he was alive in the first place and the empire didn’t win. What honestly makes you think they could take a month and destroy any of the team?

My Rich American Family

by reddit user aliceinvunderland

I am part of a rich American family, in a rich American suburb, full of rich American people.

Life is hell.

Every morning, me and the rest of the Wives get up at 5:00am sharp. Fifteen minutes of jogging around the neighborhood, five minutes in the shower (set to cold), twenty minutes for hair and makeup, and then five to get dressed. If we’ve managed that in time, meaning no later than 5:45am, we might be allowed solid food with our coffee.

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ink-stained skin // reggie mantle soulmate au

Ink-stained Skin

Ink-Stained Masterlist

Words: 1.3k

Summary: Reggie attempts to contact his soulmate through words written on his skin. (Y/N) attempts to push her soulmate away.

masterlist

(Y/N) sighed as the writing appeared on her skin. It had read:

‘I got football captain!‘ 

with a smiley face drawn at the end. Pushing herself up from her seat, she made her way towards the bathroom in hope of getting rid of the ink incorporated into her skin. It had been the third time in a week that her soulmate had written to her and it had been the third time in a week she had ignored the words he wrote.

She didn’t want to push him away but she also didn’t want to be with Reggie Mantle, the guy, who on most days had an iQ lower than her six year old cousin. Sure, he was built like a God and sure, he had enough sporting ability to make up for the lack of hers but she couldn’t be with him. Of course, she couldn’t be with him, not when they spent ever waking moment disagreeing over the simplest things. She knew it was him, however she tried her hardest to hide her identity from him.

He had tried to figure out who the person he was destined to be with ever since he realised that they existed.

He was eight when he first realised that his soulmate existed. Unlike the rest of his friends, he didn’t have a name etched into his skin, neither did he have a countdown on the wrist of his prominent arm. To Reggie, there was no sign of him having a soulmate. Until the very day, he saw a messy sketch of what seemed to be a rose appear on his right forearm during math class. He gazed around the room, wondering if it was anyone he already knew. Every year since, on the exact date, a rose appeared on his right forearm.

The sign of his soulmate’s existence that caused him to reach out to them occurred when he was thirteen. He felt a pain in his ankle that caused him to drop to the ground in the midst of a soccer game, clutching it in hopes it would stop the pain.

Later that evening, he picked up the purple sharpie that sat atop of his wooden desk and pressed it against his skin, doodling a frowning face, following it with the words:

‘I hope u r okay.’

He sat waiting for a response from his soulmate, shaking his leg impatiently. He sat waiting for a response; after an hour of waiting, he attempted to contact her again, etching the words:

‘ur probably asleep, i hope u get well soon’ 

and followed it with a doodle of himself.

She stared at his writing, only just noticing how messy it was. Analysing it closely, she realised it was his writing. It was Reggie Mantle’s writing. She recognised it from anywhere. Who wouldn’t recognise their lab partner’s writing?

It had been two weeks since Reggie had wrote to (Y/N) informing him of his new title as the captain of the Riverdale bulldogs.

She felt upset but she didn’t know why. She wasn’t that into Reggie. Looking down at her arm, she noticed a drawing of a sad face followed with the words:

‘silent treatment?’

She let out a small laugh at the words, deciding it would be an appropriate time to reply. After eight years of ignoring him, she finally replied to his words.

'never’

She sighed, maybe she had judged Reggie before even giving him a chance. “Oh god, what’s gotten you in this state? Is it Mantle?” Kevin spoke, earning his best friend’s attention. “So when are you going to fuck him?”

(Y/N) spun around in her chair and dragged herself toward him and smacked his arm. “I hate you.”

“Does he even know his infamous soulmate is you?”

“No and he’s not going to find out until we graduate!”

(Y/N) was about to join Kevin on her bed, when she felt a tickling sensation on her left forearm. She smiled at his response, his words making him seem like an excited child during Christmas.

Reggie looked down at his arm, smiling to himself. She had finally written back. “Dude, she wrote back.” he grinned “Andrews, she finally wrote back!”

“I’m happy for you, cap but coach wants us on the field.”

He spent all of practise counting down the minutes until he could reply to his soulmate. He was unsure whether his soulmate was a female or a male but it never really mattered to him.

After showering, he picked up a pen only to notice that his soulmate had drawn a small rabbit on her left wrist. For most of the eight years he knew of his soulmate’s existence, he had always thought that they were left handed, as the drawing of the rose always seemed to appear on his right forearm. He took his place next to Archie, waiting for coach Clayton to enter the locker room with the information about their next game.

Archie looked over at his smitten captain, knowing that there was no way he would be paying attention to a word their Coach had said, too infatuated with the new drawing on his arm. “She actually wrote back. What is she doing?” he mumbled to himself, pulling his phone out from the back pockets of his jeans, wanting to text her.

Reggie was pulled out of his trance as he heard Archie’s mumbled words, his eyes widening slightly, Archie must’ve known who his soulmate was. “She? You know my soulmate!”

“Reggie, calm down, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Reggie nudged Archie playfully “Tell me.”

“No.”

(Y/N) could barely react before Kevin snatched her phone off her and answered Archie’s incoming call. She let out a groan, knowing that it would be related to Reggie.

“You’re writing back to Reggie? (Y/N), that’s a disaster waiting to happen.” Archie exclaimed as soon as she answered, causing Kevin to laugh. “You’ll never be able to hide your identity from him until graduation if you continue replying.”

“My god, Andrews, you sound like you’re in the midst of a mental breakdown.” Kevin scoffed “Plus, she’s only just started drooling over Mantle.”

“I’m coming over! I’m bringing food!”

Reggie sat in his car waiting for Moose to get back with their food. Looking at himself in the rear-view mirror, he noticed a bruise had formed on his bicep. Instantly, he picked up a pen and wrote to her, drawing a winking face

'how did u get ur bruise? hope you haven’t been fighting’

Within a few seconds, his soulmate had already responded.

'SORRY!!!! the door handle was a lot higher than i expected. hope you didn’t feel it.’

Reggie let out a small laugh, not even realising that Moose had joined him in the car.

“Dude, you’re whipped and you don’t even know who this person is. What if it’s some old dude who’s kidnapped your soulmate and is trying to lure you to his house?” Moose groaned. “You did order a steak burrito right?”

A new semester meant new classes, new activities. (Y/N) slumped into her seat during home room, Kevin to her right and Reggie sat behind him. He glanced up from his desk, only to be met with Kevin, whose head instantly shot back to face his best friend.

“Got a problem, Keller?” He spoke, earning a scoff from (Y/N) “You too, (L/N)?”

“Don’t inflate your ego any further there, Reginald. It might burst.” (Y/N) responded, turning back to face the front, not wanting to speak to him any further.

(Y/N) then realised the reason why she had been so hesitant to reveal who she was to him. It was because he was one of the most egotistical people she knew and the person she spoke to through her ink-stained skin was nothing like the person she knew.

As soon as the bell rang, (Y/N) pushed herself out in attempt to beat the crowd that would be gathering in front of her locker. As she rushed, she failed to weave through the desk, hitting her hip on the corner. She let out a groan, clutching her hip instantly.

Reggie felt the pain grow in his hip as he watched (Y/N) try to groan and walk the pain out. His eyes widening and a gasp falling from his lips.

“It’s you. You’re my soulmate.”

Red Herrings, News Reports, and Memes: The Purpose of the Jim Twins in the Overall Narrative

Originally posted by halewalker

Out of all the things that I’ve been wondering about in the overall Who Killed Markiplier continuity, the Jim twins were the biggest things on my radar.  Nothing about what they were doing made any sense in relation to the overall mystery.  Initially, I was assuming that they were to serve as opposite to our PoV, allowing them to wander around places that the episode didn’t show us in order to give us more clues toward the killer.  They seemed to do that fine during the first two chapters, where they were able to get a good look at the crime scene and show us just how close the detective Benjamin was to his former partners…in both sense of the word.

Originally posted by spacemarkimoo

But come the third and fourth Jim-casts, and…they’re really just joke casts.  One big lead up to a subscriber joke, and mumbling nonsense about how Jim thinks the murder occurred.  No contribution to the overall statement.  Isn’t that weird, especially when the original cast had enough jokes to hold itself!

…wait a minute.

How many jokes were in each chapter, really?

That’s when it hit me.  The very first episode threw us a red herring in terms of the chef, whom it tried to show off as the potential killer.  Everything seemed to be a red herring, huh?  But what if the Jims were red herrings as well?

What if they were atmospheric red herrings?

Couldn’t find a better term for it, sorry.

Up until this series, all of Markiplier’s skits would always end with a joke.  Each one, no fail.  All of his work with Cyndago ends with a joke.  Google IRL ends with a joke.  Five Nights at Freddy’s: The Interview ends with a joke.  A Date with Markiplier ends with a joke.  Hell, Darkiplier vs Antisepticeye (something we all thought could be serious) was just one big glorified shitpost.  We’ve been trained to think that everything Mark will do will just lead up to one big punchline.  So tell me that this wasn’t what you were thinking about the minute you saw the thumbnail.  “Oh boy, another skit.  Let’s see where this ends up.”

And hell yeah, the first episode feeds on that expectation.  We’re in a goddamn murder mystery noir thing, and the first joke we get is how they end up partying in the manor.  Come on, the first chapter even ends on a dick joke.

Were we not just assuming that this was going to lead up to something hilarious?  I remember seeing it everywhere.  “Oh, the murderer is Chica, isn’t it?!”  We were all expecting a punchline.

Until the jokes stopped coming.

Chapter Two had some jokes sprinkled in it, but it didn’t end on one.  Chapter Three had two, max, and Chapter Four?  None at all.  It actually kept to its serious tone all the way to the end.  Forget the fact that this was an origin story, THAT was the big twist ending that no one was expecting.  How in the world did we buy this?  How did no one realize that this was going to be a series that is going to keep itself straight?

Enter the Jims.

Originally posted by theowlandthefinch

They are the ones that are going to be heavily memed to hell and back.  They are the ones making the funny jokes, with the weird walks and the endless Jims and whatever else they decide to make them do.  Sure, they’re not part of the main story, but they’re still there for people to go and watch.  Hell, the hashtag is now swarmed with Jim memes for levity.

And this is how Mark fools us into thinking that this series is something it’s not.

Sure, those of us who only watch the main series will probably not be surprised by how dark the ending gets, but for those of us who did watch these, we were all probably thinking that this was all going to lead to a big joke.  Wouldn’t it be funny if Markiplier actually died because one of the Jims did something stupid or something?  Besides, if we watched the Jimcasts after we watched the main chapters, then they really did end on jokes.  The theme of the Markiplier skit has been maintained.  Since the Jims are waddling around in an otherwise serious environment, the whole thing has to end on a joke, right?

And then the twist comes in.  There will not be a joke at the end of this train.  Everything is being played 100% seriously.

Originally posted by markired

I’m just in love with this GIF, my god.

What started out with the death of one man ended up being the shattering of a closely knit group of friends that can never be fixed.  One goes insane, while the other becomes hellbent on revenge.  There is no joke here.  There’s nothing the Jims can do to alleviate the situation.

And what better way to show this meta change, to show that this is something that must be taken 100% seriously, that there will be no laughs coming from this manor, 

than to end it on the wanderings of a man searching desperately for a punchline?

Did you ever have a genuine psychic/medium experience?

Although many readings can be attributed to cold readings or sheer coincidence sometimes it’s uncanny how accurate psychics/mediums can be. Here’s a collection of supposedly genuine experiences from threads. If you have an experience feel free to tag me @sixpenceee!

by reddit user Jinuxxx

I never believe in palm /card readings. I don’t actually believe in it nowadays. BUT when I was in 9th grade, my friend took me with her to a fortune teller so she can have her future read. Surprisingly she mentioned about her love dilemma, a blonde guy and dark haired guy. She was completely convinced about her reading powers while I was meh… We’re teenagers, it’s natural we’ll find ourselves in situations like this. And then she predicted the scores she’ll get at the exams when you finish high school (in our country there are some mandatory subjects for the exams, thus multiple numbers) she guessed that right. If I think really hard about probabilities and stuff I can find a logic explanation to that as well. 

by reddit user GoobyBear22

About 5 years ago I saw a psychic that a family friend had told me was the real deal. I went in skeptical and came out a believer.

She used tarot cards and knew things that could have been lucky guesses, like that I had just bought a house and was renovating it, but she also knew specific things that no one else could have known.

The most amazing part of the whole thing was that she knew that I had some complications with my hormones and had a surgery in the past that would make getting pregnant very difficult, but she told me Despite all this, I would have a baby later in life. Toward the end of the reading she hands me the tarot cards and tells me to shuffle them. Then tells me to ask three questions in my mind one at a time. I decided to really test her authenticity so the first question I decided to ask was am I going to have children, and halfway through laying the five cards down, she stops and looks at me and scolds me saying “I already told you that you were going to have one child!” hah this is when I knew.

by reddit user wobblerss

This was before I was born. My mom had a neighbor who was a grandpa who could see the future. He told my mom that my sister would be really sick when she became a preteen and not to worry because she’d be okay. When my sister was a preteen she was diagnosed with cancer and after a year and a half she was perfectly fine. My mom was pregnant with me when she met him again and he told her that I would be a c-section baby. My mom already knew this and said she had scheduled the c-section already since I was breach but he was adamant that she would have me on a certain day and that the c-section wouldn’t go on the planned day. I was born on the exact day he predicted.

Nothing too crazy but the fact that he knew that my sister would be sick and would be okay is crazy to me. He also didn’t want any money and approached my mom and asked if he could do a reading for her.

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Loki’s Very Special Girl

It’s Kinktober.  I am doing day 1 prompts:  Spanking, aphrodisiac, sleepy sex

Request:  I had two requests for Loki non-con, and one for Loki/Virgin, so using these.

Warning:  Non-con/rape. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU. Also, turns into dub-con. Kinks. 

Pairing: Loki/Reader

A/N:  Loki is my muse this evening.  This is more like 3 drabbles (all about 1000 words).  Pre Avengers movie. 

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan–is–god @kellyn1604 @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @xbergiex @bellaballanda @theariel85 @fashun–deevah 

Aphrodisiac

Your head was pounding as consciousness returned.  All you could see was pure blackness.  The first thing you did was take a deep breath.  You knew to stay calm.  S.H.I.E.L.D had trained you for hostage situations.  It never occurred to you that this particular training would come into play on your first mission, but as inexperienced as you were, there was no way you would flip out.  They had chosen you to be an Agent because of your natural talents, letting them down was not an option.

A few deep exhales calmed you enough to assess your situation.  The room itself was not black, there was a bag over your head.  You were seated in a chair, your ankles cuffed to each leg with about an inch and a half of chain, your hands to the arms with even less leeway. The chair was metal and bolted to the ground.  The only chance of escape meant the picking the cuffs.  You could feel the spot for the key, but without eyesight chances of setting your hands free was slim to none.  While it was unfavorable, you knew you had to wait until your captor arrived.  

This was not supposed to happen.  You were on a surveillance mission, looking into a possible terrorist threat in England.  Nobody should have noticed you, since your cover was the date of a diplomat.  You sipped champagne and wore a beautiful black dress, the satin still rested against your bare chest, and you wished you had opted for a more conservative look.  The target hadn’t even arrived yet.  You walked away to freshen up when there was a sharp pain in your neck.  It didn’t feel like a shot though. The blackout was instantaneous. What sort of drug had they used on you?  

Before you could dwell on the thought the sound of the door opening filled the room.  You rolled your shoulders back and tried to show no fear.  If they planned on torturing you for information they had no idea who they were up against.  You would choose death long before betrayal.  

Originally posted by loptrlaufey

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the story of the underwear cockles op

y’all wanna hear the story of how @amazinmango and i got this photo op at phxcon this weekend?

PART ONE: BEFORE THE OP

so here’s the thing: n o n e of this was planned. it was amazing, hilarious, ridiculous kismet. 

mango’s had his birthday recently, and so i brought his birthday present with me to phxcon. part of the present was a pair of jensen’s underbears (i think the text i sent mango right after jib was, “we’re close enough that it’s not weird if i buy u underwear right????”) bc i thought that was hilarious from jib and mango is a huge jensen fan and dean!boy. so the original joke was just that mango could have the bear underwear. i also got him a second pair in orange, bc orange is his fav colour. this was as far as i thought this would go. 

so i get into phoenix thursday night and give mango his present. we didn’t know there were cockles photo ops until friday afternoon when we saw hard tickets for sale. i distinctly remember being bummed that my hometown con had cockles photo ops for sale online but phxcon, the one i was actually going to, did not. but obviously once i saw they were available, like. THERE WAS ONLY ONE CHOICE. so after deciding it was completely financially irresponsible when we have no money, i bought the op. 

i can’t remember when it occurred to us that we had both the underbears and a pair of lucky orange underwear for misha in our hotel room. we wanted to do something fun and funny for the op, and cracked ourselves up at the idea. but we were also aware that it could be, you know, kind of sort of maybe intensely uncomfortable to be like (a) i know what underwear u were wearing and (b) here i brought pairs of them for you to further laugh over. i have a T E R R I B L E akdslkjkas embarrassment squick, so we didn’t want to do anything that made us uncomfortable, and we definitely didn’t want to do anything that would make misha or jensen uncomfortable. we wanted them to have fun with us and play around with us. 

we ran our idea passed our roomie, who has some good con experience, to see if she thought it would fly or not. we agreed on judging our plan based on their mood on the day and asking them if they felt comfortable enough to do it was the best course of action, with a back-up plan ready to go immediately just in case, so j+m knew we were serious that they could totally pass on it if it was weird. CONSENT AND SAFE SPACE. we were hella concerned about this. 

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@ parents of lgbt+ kids

Having homophobic and/or transphobic parents can actually destroy someone on the inside. It is a soul destroying feeling when those closest to you, the people you grew up with or still are growing up with, won’t accept who you are, or even disown you for simply being who you are.

When I came out as a lesbian my mum didn’t even look at me for a month, let alone talk to me. She told me that lesbians disgust her and she didn’t want a gay daughter. My dad kept telling me repeatedly that I was confused, telling me it was a choice and calling me “dyke” in the process. My grandmother told me I was going to hell, I was damaged, unnatural, dirty, sinful, and still calls it an “unsettling phase”.

Every individual experience is different, but because of the clear message I got off my dad when I was 9 years old and he told me “never come home and tell me you’re gay” I buried my sexuality for years, dated boys, kissed boys, would have gone a lot further with them if I had ever been in a position to do so, sometimes even hoped to end up in that position because I was so desperate to be “normal” even though the thought of doing anything with a boy disgusted me, which in turn filled me with even more self hatred, didn’t tell anyone when I was harassed online by a man twice my age when I was only 13 because I thought it was the least I deserved after having such “unnatural” thoughts. I grew to have so much internalised homophobia due to the fear I had of being gay because my dad had said that to me when I was only 9 years of age. I faked crush after crush on boys, staring at their Facebook profiles willing myself to feel something, anything, yet looking at a random girl in the street and feeling a fire burn inside me, yet still not accepting it, burying it and blocking it out.

I blocked it out as best as possible, talking about boys and acting as straight as possible, especially around my friends, until I was almost 16, when I saw a lesbian couple kiss on BBC television on at 8pm programme, and in that moment, I knew that was what I wanted, I knew that I couldn’t spend my life being something I’m just not, pretending every day of my life. I knew in that moment that I was gay, I knew that I wanted a girlfriend, I knew that I wanted a wife, and for the first time the idea of marriage seemed appealing, and I felt at peace and like I truly knew myself.

So a couple of months later, I told my friends, which took more courage than I knew I had. After that went well, I felt confident enough to tell my parents, encouraged by the good experience of coming out to my friends.

I was a mess when I told my mum. Although I felt confident enough to do it, I was still terrified and shaking and it was the most nerve racking moment of my life. I didn’t mean for it to happen how it did, and I could have told her in a better way, but in that moment I felt I had to, it was the right time for me. After I told her, I went to my room where I sent her a text, which I’m not going to quote entirely because it’s too personal, but it explained everything, I told her the journey of discovering my sexuality, I told her I loved her, I explained my fears, my feelings, my experiences, everything. In response I received a text saying: “I can’t pretend I’m happy about this. I’m not at all, but I love you regardless.” Although I had wanted a proper conversation, I accepted that she was shocked and took the text as acceptance of me. However, later that day, I went downstairs and saw her for the first time since I told her. She was crying and wouldn’t look at me. When I went downstairs, she went upstairs. I tried not to be upset, understanding her shock and giving her time. After a week of not spending more than a minute in a room with her, and not having her look at me once, I decided to try again, so I said to her “we need to talk about this” but she walked away from me. I tried texting so she wouldn’t have to directly talk, but she ignored everything I sent her.

Throughout the month, nothing changed, I was constantly ignored by her, and when she told my dad without consulting me, he just told me I was confused, and shouted at me for upsetting everyone, telling me I was messing up my GCSEs because of my confusion and immature phase, when the only thing endangering my grades was their prejudice and discrimination against their own daughter. As the month progressed, with still no change in either of them, I felt more and more worthless, my internalised homophobia reared its head once more, more prominent than ever, and I considered all sorts of things that I don’t even want to go into, I even looked at conversion therapy at one point because I felt like such a failure and a disappointment to my family, and my grandmother was the worst, calling me damaged and an unnatural sinner constantly.

The day my mum spoke to me again I was so shocked I could barely reply. She acted as though the last month hadn’t even happened, and went on like that for a week, blocking out what had happened, never once mentioning it, evidently hoping that it had all gone away or that her ignoring me had made me bury it again so it couldn’t tarnish our family and I could just live an unhappy life. At the end of that week, I mentioned it. I said “it’s not a phase” and she still wouldn’t talk, which is when I started to show my anger. This is when she told me that lesbians disgust her, spewing the typical hate about hell and morality and sin. Not being able to take it anymore, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat in the bathtub and properly cried for the first time in months. All my emotions came flooding out, and I would say that day was the saddest and most hopeless I’d ever felt. I felt utterly rejected, outcast, like I could never belong, like a disappointment, and a failure as a daughter, as a person.

During an argument with my dad, he called me a dyke, declaring I was damaged and that something had obviously gone drastically wrong during my development to “turn me”.

Those few months I felt so sad, lonely, isolated, rejected, hopeless and crushed. The two most important people in my life practically disowned me, and it took all the fight and courage I had to keep going, to keep pushing on, and I’m glad I did, because I love myself and have never been prouder of who I am, and things are better now, not completely, but they’re better, even though I can’t talk openly, even though I still feel insecure, even though I still tense up every time I so much as approach the subject around my parents, things are better.

All this occurred before and during my GCSE exams, when I should have been studying. My results are due at the end of this month, and I’ve accepted that I’m not going to have done very well, and I tell myself that it’s through no fault of my own. Through everything that was happening, I still found time to study. I tried my hardest but when the people closest to you seem to hate you for being you, it’s kind of hard to concentrate and focus on anything other than the constant throbbing ache inside when you know your parents, the people who made you, the people who raised you, the people who always told you they loved you, don’t accept you.

So parents of LGBTQA+ children and teenagers, please please accept your child. If you weren’t prepared for the possibility of your child not being straight and/or cis, then you shouldn’t have had a child. Simple as that. Your child’s sexuality and gender are just as natural as they hair colour and eye colour. Please, please, please love your children, accept them, support them. Everything I went through could have been avoided had my parents done so. And the scary thing is I was lucky. Some people are thrown out, completely disowned, attacked, some people are even killed. I count myself lucky, and that’s sad. It’s sad that I count myself lucky for being unaccepted by my parents, because some people could tell stories that would make you sick about their coming out, that would make your skin crawl, but this is my story, and I’m sharing it in the hope that it will help young LGBTQA+ individuals, but also in the hope that it will help parents. Please love your children. Accept them. Support them. Tell them you love them. Make them feel accepted. Make them feel supported. Because you could lose them. Far too many young people take their own lives because their parents don’t accept them, simply because of who they want to love.

Love is love, and love is the most important thing.
A Lesson in Love (Confessions)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,178

A/N: The tag list for this story is officially CLOSED. Also, this is not the end of story.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - The messages you sent me after editing this part let me know that I had successfully tugged on all of the right heartstrings, so thank you for that.

Originally posted by ditchthevillian

Whenever an uncomplicated task arises, people say it’s as easy to accomplish as breathing. The adage always made perfect sense to you whenever you heard it. Breathing is second nature. It can be done without having to think twice and, sometimes, it feels like certain tasks are the same way.

Today, that’s not the case. Standing here across from Bucky for the first time in weeks, you find that breathing is anything but easy. The air was knocked out of your lungs as soon as you stumbled upon the note he wrote on the canvas and you haven’t yet recovered. You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe, just breathe. But it’s hard. How are you supposed to remember to inhale and exhale in a moment like this?

“Are you going to say something?” You press, once the silence of the room becomes too unbearable. Your fingers curl tightly around the canvas as you wait for Bucky to speak. “Anything?”

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stormy nights || stiles stilinski (smut )

word count: 3550

prompt: my smut for lacrosse week!

warnings: smut, swearing

author’s note: this is my first solo smut and i hope you guys like it! let me know if i should keep writing smut. please leave feedback on this!

masterlist

coming soon

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Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

Intertwined Destinies I: A Great and Terrible Power

In the ‘Intertwined Destinies’ meta series, I intend on taking a deep dive into the mysterious connection between Rey and Kylo Ren in The Last Jedi. In this first instalment, I cover their pasts - exploring what might have brought Rey and Kylo to where we find them in The Force Awakens, and how their histories may be paralleled and, potentially, overlap.

The Story of Ben

“I’ve seen this raw strength only once before. It didn’t scare me enough then. It does now.”

In The Force Awakens, we get only the vaguest allusion to the tragedy that sent Luke Skywalker into hiding and marked the start of Ben Solo’s descent to the dark side. The explanation comes from Han Solo:

“One boy, an apprentice, turned against him and destroyed it all. Luke felt responsible. He just…walked away from everything.”

That boy, of course, was Ben - Han’s own son and Luke’s star pupil, who Mark Hamill has spoken of in the following terms:

“[Luke] made a huge mistake in thinking that his nephew was the chosen one, so he invested everything he had in Kylo, much like Obi-Wan did with my character. And he is betrayed, with tragic consequences. Luke feels responsible for that.”

This builds up an evocative picture of Ben Solo’s fall that is returned to in the trailer for The Last Jedi, which actually gives the event a different slant. With trailer-appropriate portentousness, we hear Luke speak fearfully of a terrible power that he failed to take seriously enough before. This dialogue is laid over shots of what we must assume is the destruction of Luke’s temple, including this one:

Here, we see Luke clawing his way free from beneath a pile of flaming timbre. This image alone is extremely striking, and raises an interesting possibility for what might have happened at the temple. It has previously been assumed (at least by me) that Luke was absent when Ben enacted his betrayal and killed his fellow Jedi in training, but this shot represents a strike against that interpretation - instead, it suggests something sudden and explosive that took Luke by surprise and unfolded before he could prevent it. 

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Home - Jon Snow

Jon Snow’s army defeated the Boltons, thus retaking Winterfell in the Stark’s name. But you haven’t seen Jon since he left for the Night’s Watch. Will he remember what you said to him as he walked out of Winterfell’s gates? Will he feel the same way when he returned? (Words : 2344)

Originally posted by daughterofwinterfell

The last time you saw Jon Snow, he had a frown on his face as he solemnly told you that he was leaving to Castle Black. You could remember your heart aching as his brown eyes held your gaze as he tried to explain why he was going away.

“This is your home, Jon, you just can’t leave like this. You’re needed here,” you begged, tears falling down your face. Jon gave you saddened look, trying desperately to make your understand. But he knew you would understand, you just didn’t want to. You had been one of his closest companions, next to Robb and other Stark children; there was something special about you. which made this all the more difficult for him.

“Y/N, this isn’t my home. I don’t belong here, I’m no Stark.” You shook your head, resting your hands on his shoulders. One hand traveled to his neck, causing him to look up and meet your eyes once more. You stared into his dark eyes, like you’ve done many times before.

There was something between you two, in the way you looked at each other. Your stolen moments were more than the mischievous ones shared between Jon and Arya. Your conversations with him held more heart than your jokes with Sansa. You confided in Jon with your secrets and problems more than Robb. There was an unspoken, untouched affection that lingered in too-long touches and heartfelt stares; but now those little moments would cease. The possibility of love would trail behind Jon as he traveled to the Night’s Watch.

“This isn’t your home?” Your hands held his face now, pulling him closer than ever before. “Jon, Winterfell is just four walls,” your voice was more calm now, “I’m your home.” You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, but Jon seemed to stop breathing all together.

“Y/N, you’re,” he paused, not knowing what to say. You swallowed hard, letting your words rest between you with a heavy weight. “You are my home,” Jon finally said, “but I need to do this. For me. For the realm.” You smiled softly, feeling more tears swell in your eyes.

“And you say you’re not a Stark, always doing things for the greater good,” you let out a bittersweet, short laugh. Jon gave you a sorrowful smile before resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness you shared with Jon in that moment. Your last intimate moment together.

After a while, you pulled your head away from Jon’s. You locked eyes with him again and you were just, so close. His lips were just a tip-toe away. You could feel his breath against your skin and it was just so tempting to close that gap.

“Y/N,” Jon murmured lowly, his northern accent heavier than before. One of his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing the space beneath your bottom lip. Jon leaned forward slightly, but you backed away. You curled your bottom lip in your mouth and shook your head.

“When you come back home Jon Snow,” you took a tentative step towards him, “when you come back to me.” You leaned over slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled away fully, because if you didn’t, you’d probably wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. “When you come back home,” you repeated and Jon nodded. His hand went to yours, givning it a soft squeeze.

“I will miss you, Y/N,” he whispered, “I will miss you dearly.” Jon turned then, walking off to his room. You watched him go, knowing that in the morning there would be no time for a true goodbye like this. And you were right; Jon Snow left the next morning and you were forced to just wave goodbye, only remembering your true farewell from the night before.

All that followed after his departure came with the shadow of death and horror. The Stark name had been dragged through the dirt, with Ned’s beheading and Robb’s murder. It seemed there was no end in sight with all the killings. It sure didn’t stop when Winterfell had fallen into the control of House Bolton; more specifically, Ramsay Bolton.


 The clashing of weapons and the bloody screams of soldiers could be heard through the stone walls of Winterfell. You hid in a small room, trying to avoid the Boltons that were searching for servants to aid in the battle. You had no wish to fight against Sansa’s forces, especially after finding out that Jon was leading them. The beat of your heart accelerated when you thought of seeing him again, if he made it through the battle.

 You were concealed in the room, Jon’s old room that had become yours, until your heard a large banging that came from the courtyard. You carefully opened the door, peeking out from beyond the balcony at the giant that had burst through the door. You opened the door a little more and saw him. Jon, standing next to the giant as an arrow flew into it’s eye. You gasped, turning your head to have your eyes land on Ramsay. You swallowed hard as you look back at Jon.

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Someone’s YA Dystopian Future novel is going to feature one character being a natural leader and then revealing:

“I was at the Fyre Festival in 2017.”

The whole camp went quiet, with the exception of Daran, who swore softly. Chelsea looked like she was about to cry; Pete laughed softly with disbelief. “You were at the Fyre Festival?”

Craig nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the flames in front of him. “One of the first ones in. One of the last ones out.”

Susan furrowed her brow, trying to piece the words together. Would it be inappropriate to ask him? Was it a religious thing? A massacre?

“What’s a Fire Festival?” The question slipped from her lips before she could help it, and suddenly all eyes were on her–all except Craig’s. The fire still flickered inside them.

“There was just one. The Fyre Festival, with a ‘y’. They thought it was clever.” He sighed, stroked his beard, and shifted a little before continuing. “It was supposed to be a simple weekend in the Bahamas. Me and a bunch of other rich kids packed our clothes, gathered our things, and took a plane down south. Everything was going smoothly…but when we hit the first landing strip, that’s when we started to realize that something had gone awry. Instead of seeing a private beach in front of us, we saw a crowded tourist trap. We were promised private jets, fancy boats, the full VIP experience…” His eyes flicked up to her, and though his mouth curved up in a smile, the eyes did not share in it. “But none of that was anywhere to be seen. We thought it would be fine, all we had to do was get our things, make sure they were together, and they’d lead us to the hotel, but…it was already growing dark, and that’s when the luggage arrived. Unloaded from one of those giant storage containers, the big ones, like you see on the docks. Just tossed out to the crowd, one after another. No conveyer belts, no lockers, no express deliveries to the rooms…and it was when I finally got my bag, with a dented crease along the side, like it had been resting under someone’s golf clubs, that I realized: everything had gone wrong.

“Anyway, I’m standing there with this bag, and it occurs to me how hungry I am, so I start looking for the restaurant. I was young, and foolish…fortunately, Gabe was young and foolish, too, so we both headed off to find the restaurant, thinking it would be there.”

His smile widened, showing those teeth again. “There was no restaurant. They fed us sandwiches–small, flat, flimsy sandwiches, with that bread you see on a gas station shelf, and some meat they said was ham. A single wilted piece of lettuce and a piece of rubbery cheese were the condiments, if you could call them that…Gabe said he saw someone with a ketchup packet. I didn’t believe him. Served in a white styrofoam box.

“Anyway, this would be regal fare to us today, but back then, to us, it might as well have been cow dung. I saw three people vomiting their food right back out; the girl next to me saw the same thing, and she became number four. I don’t know how many of us managed to actually choke our way through the meal, or how many of us actually made it back to go onto the plane, but I do know this: there were two thousand of us left in that village when the last boat left the island. Two thousand of us left to fend for ourselves. 

“When the sun rose the next day, we were one thousand nine hundred and ninety four. Four of us were missing; two were dead. It was then that I realized that this was going to be a live-or-die situation. I chose to live.”


I would continue with this but it is late and I needed sleep an hour ago.

angel on fire

Summary: Your job was supposed to be simple: watch over Steve Rogers. Never did it occur to you that someone else would attempting to corrupt him. || demon!bucky x angel!reader || oneshot (?)

Warnings: smut and all that entails it ends kinda abruptly though, shitty ending, cursing, mentions of blood/violence, dub consent(??????), overuse of the name angel 

Notes: @sanjariti helped me with the title lol, its from a halsey song, im sorry this is terrible

Originally posted by injectablefame712

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I want to talk about this whole “punching nazis” thing, which I have been thinking about for some days.

To start, let me clarify that I have no moral or ethical qualms with Richard Spencer getting punched in the face on tv. I’d be happy to see it happen again.

But I do have a couple issues with much of the dialogue that has emerged in the wake of this event.

A lot of the people suddenly talking about nazis right now are people who didn’t seem to even realize they existed in this country prior to this election.

A lot of people seem to have gotten some strange ideas about how and where nazis are typically encountered, or who they actually are.

So, I’d like to talk about some of the times in my life when I’ve encountered nazis.

Before I do that, let’s try to establish a definition. There are a lot of different stripes of fascists and white supremacists out there, with varying agendas and varying degrees of organization. In the US we’ve got many types, ranging from the KKK and Aryan Nation to various unorganized skinhead rabble to the newish group calling itself the Alt Right. It seems easiest, at least for the sake of this argument, to lump those all together under one general “nazi” category. But does that really make sense? I’ll come back to that. But for now, in most of the examples I will describe below, these were people who openly called themselves such.

Also, I want to establish a bit about who I am. I don’t like to discuss any of these things publicly, but I also feel like I kind of have to, to explain where I am coming from. So: I am Jewish, I am bi, I am neurodivergent. Due to this last thing, I have certain issues navigating the physical world. I am physically fit but not athletic. I have very little self defense training. By occupation I am a musician.

And lastly I want to point out that these examples are from 15-20 years ago and describe some of my earliest encounters with these forces to provide context. And I’m going to start with some clear cut cases:

I first became aware of the existence of modern nazis my first year in high school. This was in the suburbs of San Francisco. I had a few friends who were into punk music and culture. I heard about “white power punks” and nazi skinheads who would sometimes show up at shows. When I started going out I would see them every once in a while. When I started going up to the city, at that time there were places that were absolutely notorious for nazi skinheads. I never interacted with them, I always steered clear of them, and never really fell in with the punk scene anyway. But that’s when I first became aware that there were people in modern America who called themselves nazis and directly advocated for white supremacy.

To be honest I did not think of myself as their “target” because (in my mind, at that time) Jewish culture in the SF Bay Area was practically invisible and unlikely to be on their radar. In fact I didn’t think too deeply about who their target was. I mostly thought they were crazy people who loved violence and called themselves “nazis” because it was the meanest thing they could think of, that they were in favor of “white power” because it was so obviously wrong. At this time, there was fair amount of tension in the state around the issue of immigration from Mexico. But it did not occur to me then that there could have been any relationship between the xenophobia I saw expressed by mainstream circles in conversations about Proposition 187 and the blatant, violent white supremacy expressed by the skinheads on the periphery of local punk scenes. (also please note that I am aware that not all skinheads are nazis and that there is an anti-racist element within skinhead culture as well)

In college, in Pittsburgh, I lived on a store with a convenience store on one end. One of the people who worked in this store was a skinhead who wore a jacket covered in various white power/“rock against communism” band logos. He had a group of similar buddies that often hung around nearby, a couple of whom had aryan nation tattoos. On several occasions when I woke up in the morning I would find leaflets distributed up and down the block decrying the Holocaust as a “Jewish scam to make money”. These flyers were attributed to Church of the Creator, one of the more active neo-nazi groups in Pennsylvania at that time. Every once in a while I would cautiously engage in arguments with some people on the fringes of that crew of guys who hung out in the area. Things were sometimes tense but never got physical. Soon after 9/11 most of them disappeared. I don’t know why or where to.

While traveling alone in Slovenia, I nearly ran into a parade of about 40 skinheads chanting and marching in the street while I was on the way back to where I was staying. I do not know what specific group they were affiliated with but wore patches with the common “celtic cross” symbol used by far right/white nationalist groups all over the world. At that time, fascist graffiti covered Ljubljana.

Those are just a few of the more blatant examples from that time. These experiences were not rare. The KKK and various neo-nazi groups held public parades and rallies all throughout this period, and sometimes showed up as counter protestors or forces of violence at protests for progressive causes. They marched through downtown Pittsburgh - with the local government’s blessing - and many other cities in that region.

There were protestors at those marches, and there were people who fought the nazis directly, but the general consensus in mainstream liberal circles at that time seemed to be that nazis had the right to march just like anyone else, that any violence against them would be bad. It certainly wasn’t at all common to hear college educated, NY Times-reading liberals talking about the glories of “punching nazis”. This is a problematic but very complicated phenomenon: they were to be tolerated up until the point at which they’ve come into power.

But let me explain why _I_ didn’t go around punching the nazis I saw, during those times when I encountered them personally. To some extent, part of me did follow that logic mentioned above, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is pretty simple: most nazis are a lot better at fighting than I am, they do it more frequently, they usually travel in numbers, they are often armed, and in almost every circumstance when I’ve encountered them the odds would not have been remotely in my favor had things gotten physical.

Richard Spencer was alone and unarmed standing in front of a video camera busily talking about an internet meme while he was sucker punched. This occurred in broad daylight in a very crowded, open area with a ton of media and police present. While I applaud the anonymous puncher for seizing upon that opportunity, that’s not really a typical situation in which one encounters nazis.

Recently, Richard Spencer posted a video in reaction to this incident. In this video he mentions that the Alt Right will not succeed if they are unable to be who they are in public. I’ve seen a lot of people pointing to this video as a sign of victory over the Alt Right, a sign that they are scared. I think the latter half is true but not the former. What Spencer is saying is that they are going to ramp up security. And I would anticipate that these people will begin to receive even more protection from the current administration.

So, this is one conclusion I’d like to leave here - in most cases “punching nazis” means getting involved in serious physical violence in which your life will be at risk. And that risk is only going to increase in the future. Fantasizing about punching some idiot talking about a frog on tv is fun, but I think it ignores the realities that many have faced and many more are about to face. And while many of us have disabilities that hinder us in this department, I think it would behoove anyone who is serious about getting physical with fascists to study and learn how to do so before getting involved in a situation you are unprepared for. I would also think long and hard before making that demand of anyone else. But that’s not the most important point.

I’d like to circle back to talking about definitions. The examples I gave above are obvious. These were people who, in almost all cases, were openly wearing the actual logos of white supremacist organizations. So let me bring up a different example:

About one year after 9/11 I was in Budapest, taking an overnight train to Amsterdam. I had a spot in a sleeper compartment on a train. I got on and a couple other passengers came in. One of them was a young guy, a little older than me (I was in my early 20’s at this time). He spoke English very well and we got to talking. It turned out he was an Austrian who worked in finance. Middle management at a major bank. He bought us a couple of beers and we were getting along. Inevitably, the topic of 9/11 came up. Seemingly out of nowhere, he explains to me how “there were no Jews in the building that day”. He then goes on to explain how 9/11 and the entire War on Terror that was then unfolding was all a Jewish plot to direct money to Israel’s armed forces. And hinted that the Holocaust was a similar plot. I tried to argue with him for a bit (without letting on that I was Jewish) but it was nearly impossible to get through to him, and he soon became surly and then passed out. I tried to do the same. But what caught my attention was that this man was well spoken, dressed conservatively, he looked every bit the upper middle class finance professional. It was difficult to imagine him in a street fight. No one would have described this person as being on the fringes of his society.

Up until a year ago, if I told this story to a European, or to an American person of color, they were unsurprised. But if I told it to a white American their reaction would usually be “yeah, well, that’s Europe for you”.

But that’s never been the case.

One common narrative is that many of the groups of fascists have figured out that they aren’t going to get very far if they are seen just thugs who march around on the street wearing in leather jackets getting in scraps. many of them have figured this out some time ago, and have been infiltrating mainstream education and corporate life. And yes, that is happening.

But there is a big problem with that narrative: it ignores the fact that many of America’s institutions and businesses are, themselves, organizations that promote white supremacy. Many of our banks, many of our police departments, our prison system, much of our media. Does these mean they are all “nazis”? Not really. But what it does mean is that white supremacy is not some outside force that just suddenly popped out of Steve Bannon’s suitcase. It’s been here for a long time. It is deeply engrained in our society. Fascism is not some new danger that we suddenly need to prevent from being “normalized” - for much of America, fascism has been the norm for a very long time.

Here’s my point with all of this: sooner or later, Trump will be defeated. This regime is monstrous, but I have seen the power and anger and sheer volume of opposition to it, and I do not think that this regime will last. My worry is, once this most obvious of enemies is defeated, the liberal establishment will go right back to completely forgetting that white supremacy and fascism are a major problem in this country. The sad fact is, even when Democrats in power, even when the POTUS is the most progressive sounding person electable, the nazis are still here, white supremacy is still here, fascism is still here. And not always on “the other side”. We need to remember that, we need to keep pointing to them and ostracizing them and speaking out against white supremacy and fascism even when it looks like things are more comfortable, because that comfort is a trap.