this is what i get for going to a catholic college

Black Girl, NYC

Greetings people. I identify as a Black female who was born and raised in NYC. I am slowly progressing through my study of education and history in college. Other then that, I spend (probably) an unhealthy amount of time reading and writing sci fi and fantasy. But by high school, I got sick and tired of the same story featuring blonds and brunettes saving the day with their straight, lean male heroes so I turned to my librarian seeking something new. She pointed to Octavia Butler and the rest was history. I’ve been seeking diversity in media ever since.

Family life and Culture

I grew as the middle child of six siblings with my single mother and grandparents. Yes, my working-class household fits the stereotype. We even have an absent father *sighs* But, hey shit happens. And with the biological father turns out not to be the best father figure, shit had to go right out the door. Yup. But make no mistake that this is a norm. Most households on my block do have both parents involved in their children’s lives. Our circumstances called for us to have one. That’s all.

The house was full, loud and rambunctious. We made up a good portion of the children on the block (unsurprising) and basically ran it. There’s a whole novel that could be fleshed out of my childhood if I wanted to. Our neighborhood is very tight knit. Next door neighbors were treated like Aunts and Uncles. When summer came around, we were sometimes divided into groups as the parents who were off from work overlooked us while braiding our heads. Blackouts became an all night bbq and sleepover on each other’s porches. Crooklyn by Spike Lee was a good representation of what it was like in fact. Somewhat. Minus the brownstones, plus a couple more fights (lol).

My grandma was a nurse who’s pretty big on us knowing our family history. She made sure to talk a lot about our Gullah Geechee roots. We also had some Dominican culture influence since her closest friend and our Madrina was, well, Dominican. But she is fairly strict on gender norms and how my sisters and I should act especially with brothers. She antagonized me the most growing up because I continued to ignore this. We don’t get along but i can’t say i don’t get why she’s the way she is. She has a pretty dark past. My mother, a latchkey kid of the finest stock, is more laid back and gives all of us free range to make our own mistakes. Most times. Other times, she’d rather lecture us. Depends on our crime.

I don’t know what my grandpa used to do. He retired waaaaay before my grandmother. I also don’t know much about his culture. He’s 1st gen Jamaican who fully assimilated into American culture. Well, beside his food choices. Now, he gambles and goes to church. When I was younger, he used to teach us how to gamble too. And how to cheat and not get caught. We got a lot of free fast food while he taught us. He has gotten more frugal the older he got. And more isolated.

Dating and Relationships.

I don’t date. I have no interest. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I’ve considered it but I rather have not seek out anything outside of platonic right now. I have a tight knit circle of friends and several other groups of friends I associate with depending on the activity. I’m realizing it seems like I’m using the term “friends” loosely but I swear I’m not. I’m a virgin and I feel nothing about being one until someone goes “*gasp* You’re a virgin really?” and then I end up on high defense saying “So?” Believe or not, that messed with me a lot.

My love life and lack of interest in having one has always been a struggle. In middle school, the group of friends I hung with were becoming more infatuated with love and sex. Yes, middle school, fifth through eighth grade, ages nine to thirteen. But, when they would talked about who’s hot or not, they would look at me funny when I didn’t join in the discussion. Instead of explaining myself, I simply copied other’s reactions and gushed along with them. This instinct followed me through High school til stopped out of annoyance. I became a listener and adviser in their relationships because I really do love stories in many shapes and forms. And I would never turn down hearing a story.


My primary language is English and AAVE. I’ve been living in a neighborhood filled with Blacks and Latinx. Most of my friends are Black and Lantinx. I didn’t meet a white person my age until college. Okay that’s a partial lie. I’ve been in a summer camp that was made up of predominantly white children. But as the only black kid in my age range, I was sorta uncomfortable. I never made lasting friends there. After High School, I spent a year abroad in Tena, Ecuador where I learned Spanish and Kichwa. I still suck at both languages.


Lots of my clothes when I was younger were borrowed or hand-me-downs. Half of them still are. It’s like thrift shopping without the hiked prices thanks to its popularity by rich white people (Thanks rich white people!) All my siblings’ taste varies. In my case, I’m fond of combining loose and tight clothing (tight jeans and a loose sweater/ baggy jeans and a tight top). No makeup. Silver accessories.

I used to have a short bob cut permed. I hated it. But I rather a perm then getting my hair straightened with a hot comb because the back of my neck and big ears would always get burned. It wasn’t until I made a friend with a natural afro that I realized my natural hair was even an option.


Lol I was a nerd with bad grades.


My family practices Santeria, which has historical roots in both Catholicism and Yoruba thanks to slavery (Yay slavery!). However, because the religion is not fully accepted or well-known, I tend to say I’m simply Catholic if asked. Apparently, a Black Catholic is hard to believe. It is assumed all Black folks are Baptists or some branch of Christianity. I have no idea where that stereotype came from. But I can give some guess. (*cough cough* Tyler Perry….).  

As I stated before, I love scifi and fantasy. I especially love urban fantasy involving witches. I blame this love on Practical Magic and Eve’s Bayou, my childhood faves. It’s because of this love that I wish to see more stories with witches of color. And no, I don’t mean that one evil/mysterious southern/Caribbean Voodoo/Hoodoo witch hollywood loves to portray so much. That always plays into the “Black is evil” trope. Give me some damn variety!

I would squeal so hard if the mythology involved in a story isn’t even Eurocentric. I’m not joking. This is serious. When my religion was simply hinted at in the Raven Boys series (It was also a great way of making even more obvious that the character was definitely not white.) and Kenya Wright’s Habitat series, I squealed. All the authors did was write the names of some of the Orishas and I couldn’t help but put my phone down for a moment and inwardly scream with glee. That being said, if a writer does decide to use afrocentric or any religion involving “witchcraft” as a basis, I would personally ask that they make sure is is not a closed religion.

Santeria is, in fact, a closed religion. And while I don’t mind mentions of it in fantasy and even a main character stating they practice it, do not go any further than that. Don’t even research the practices within the religion other than what is public knowledge (And if you don’t have any public knowledge, just ask) Respect that there’s a limit. Anything further spelunking  is consider rude, disgusting, disrespectful and dangerous. There’s things that I don’t even know because I haven’t been properly initiated. And the internet has a lot of these practices exposed when it shouldn’t be so please don’t look into it. Please.


Most of the cooking in the house has been done by my grandmother. Because of her various relationships, our food has always been a mixture of Black American, Gullah, Lantinx and Caribbean influences. It is so good. So, so good!

The only thing I don’t eat of hers is her seafood gumbo because I don’t like shellfish. One of my sisters said I should have my “black card” taken for my distaste. I said she could take it if she can name more black movies than me. She still can’t take it. My other sister wishes we could switch places because she loves crab but is allergic. The crazy girl actually sends her husband to buy some benadryl so she can eat some if we ever have some on the table. Smh. Siblings.  


My family on both sides are quite fond of reunions. On my grandpa’s side, the family uses Fourth of July and Christmas to get together. On my grandma’s side, they tend to host annual summer reunion and send out RSVP invitations complete with schedules of the whole two to three day event. I didn’t mention this under my family life, but both sides of my family are boujee to different degrees. Lots of black sorors and frats members on both sides. I can’t believe that slipped my mind typing.

I’m a little iffy with Christmas. It’s more of a holiday for the older generation and our niece and nephews. The younger generation, however, don’t particularly care for the holiday. For some of us, it’s because it’s not really Jesus’s Birthday and Santa was whitewashed. For others, it’s because we don’t care to feed into the corporate holiday. For most of us, it’s a combination of the two. But we do love getting together when we can. My older sister and I have conspired to celebrate kwanzaa instead for the past two years. So far, it hasn’t grasped the interest of anyone else in the family.


  • Being nerds from a young age, my siblings and I have been called “Oreos” or“Not really black” by kids in school on more than one occasion. We shut them down by fighting. Probably not the best strategy but it was best one I could think of in middle school and below. Made it easier to go back to reading my manga.

  • I got compared to my sisters a lot. It was the absolutely most annoying thing ever. And a major source of my insecurities growing older.

  • Need I address colorism? My highschool was filled with it. #TeamLight v #TeamDark. I was on neither team, because in the region I live, skin color was a pretty long spectrum. I fell in the between. Who came up with this?

  • I’ll admit it. I hate my own tears. They make me feel weak. Which isn’t true…I know. But, it is a mentality I always had. I have depression and PTSD. This isn’t really a secret. I tell people if I’m asked. But have you ever had someone look at you and say, “Really? You don’t seem like the type.” ……

  • I am a black female. I’ve been labelled “Strong” and “Independent” the older I got. By my mother. By my siblings. By my peers. And I get those labels. Even from friends. I loved those labels. I call myself by those labels. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as strong and independent? Those are positive affirmations, right? I think they would be. If that wasn’t all the positive labels we could get. Somehow, society has decided we are beings that are incapable of being multifaceted. I was indirectly taught to hate my own tears because black girls don’t cry. You can’t cry and be strong. What a terrible mantra fed to black girl at a young age. So, instead you tell everyone “It’s fine.”

I told my therapist it was fine. Until she told me straight up it was not fine. And it was okay to cry. I don’t like to cry. But I still (involuntarily) did it.

Things I’d like to see less of/Things I’d like to see more of:

  • I’m sick and tired of seeing black and latinx folks being portrayed as only fantasy gangs members. We are not only gang members. That’s a terrible popular myth the media put out there and I hate it even more so when it’s portrayed in SFF genre..

  • I’m tired of having one black person in a novel being described as having skin the color of “midnight.” And he’s (it’s always a he) not even that important to the story

  • I hate how every time someone decides to add a person of color, they have to be ambiguous brown. I’m not saying ambiguously brown don’t exist and don’t need representation but is it really that had for a dark brown skin person to play a major role in a story that’s not about slavery? Speaking of which….

  • Why we always gotta be slaves? Or better yet….

  • Why don’t we exist at all in High fantasy stories? Urban fantasy? Brooklyn wasn’t always the gentrified white town it is now. Still isn’t. How are you erasing people of color from NYC??? We make up way too much of the population to be completely erased

  • Stop racial coding other creatures to surround your white human characters. Especially as the bad guys. That’s just shitty writing. Step up your game!

  • I love Black love

  • I love Gay love. I wish more would follow moonlight’s example and show poc are gay too and gay doesn’t always equal to stereotypical femininity.

  • I love interracial love HOWEVER, can we pair people of color with other people of color as well? I’m starting to hate seeing it always a white person paired with a Poc. Variety damnit!

  • Friendships between boys and girls that don’t transform into love.

  • Friendships between girls that didn’t start out as a rivalry.

  • Different body types besides the skinny and tall. Make a main character that’s fat for once. It’s not a problem.

  • Magical characters of color that aren’t “Noble Savages” or “Wise Monks” that used their magic for personal gain for once instead of waiting for the white hero to come.

  • Nerdy black characters who aren’t 100% competent and cries. One that isn’t in a five token band that always gonna be compare to the white main character. Make the nerd the main character!

That’s all I can think of at the top of my head. But my list really does go on. 

anonymous asked:

Hi! Love your blog, your recommendations give me so much happiness. I was wondering if you could compile a list of School/college AU, especially with lots of pining between victor and yuuri <3 that would be amazing!

I love this AU! Thanks for requesting this, everyone! 

Originally posted by studioghiblishy

High School AU

gays on ink: an epic love story by thankyouforexisting, Teen, 5.6k
Yuuri looks up from where he’s wringing his hands together in his lap, nervous, heart beating way too fast, and looks at his 73 copyrighted Victor Nikiforov posters, and the framed picture by his bed, and the copies of Victor’s artwork that he’s got lying on his nightstand. “Maybe it would be better to go somewhere else,” he chokes out, a bit strangled. Awesome highschool AU!

Viktor Nikiforov: Life Coach™ by greengoblin1, Teen, 18k (WIP)
Yuuri was comfortable in his second year of high school, until he agrees to an arrangement from a new (annoyingly attractive) transfer student. Whoever gave Viktor Nikiforov the idea of becoming a Life Coach™ has a lot to answer for. Thumbs up!

Rhythm of Love by caneeljoy, Teen, 43k
Yuuri Katsuki is your average loner American high schooler. Yuuri tries desperately to keep his parents from knowing about his budding dance career, and to keep Viktor from knowing about his massive crush on him. LOVE!

The Accidental Confession by SpillAllTheTea, Gen, 1.9k
A short High School AU where Victor and Yuuri have to work together on a school project. Cute one shot!

Ice skating hearts by April4444Key, Teen, 12k (WIP)
Katsuki Yuri has spent his entire high school career flying under the radar but all that changes when a new Russian exchange student comes to town and decides to help him revive the school’s discontinued ice skating club. Definetly recommend!

The Eye Of Bliss by treasures and trinkets (hookedswan), Gen, 633 words
In a world where your eye color changes to match your soulmate’s hair color, Yuuri Katsuki meets the Russian exchange student Viktor Nikiforov, (who constantly dyes his hair.) Cute one shot!

Then you should have put a ring on it by ObsidianAbyss, Teen,  15k
Recently, it’s become a trend for students to exchange rings with their significant others. Although Yuuri is very much single and uninterested, he wears a pretty ring that mostly goes unnoticed by his peers. That is until Victor Nikiforov starts wearing an exact copy of Yuuri’s ring and flaunts it around. OMG SO GOOD!

A wager most simple by astralelegies, Teen, 7.1k
“Victor Nikiforov checks his perfect hair in the reflection on the microwave while he’s heating up his lunch,” Yuuri scoffs. “There’s no way he and I are even close to being in the same league.”  I’M SOBBING THIS IS SO GOOD

star fire and silver by elesssar, Gen, 38k
Not the stars in the sky, but the stars on the stage – or: in a high school production of Romeo & Juliet, Yuuri Katsuki is cast as Juliet. His long-time crush and the golden boy of the theatre department Viktor Nikiforov is cast as Romeo. The problem is, Yuuri can’t tell if Viktor’s flirtatiousness is just method acting, or if it might be something more. High school theatre AU!!!!!!!!!!! Love!!!!

A Typical Schoolday by racing_cupido, Not Rated, 1.3k
Yuuri reflects on his new life in Russia and just has one of his typical school days. Very cute!

Surprises From A Cute Dancer by SugarRose22, Teen, 2.6k
Viktor Nikiforov is captain of the St. Petersburg High School football team. Viktor is always one to surprise people, but what happens when he gets surprised instead? Dancer!Yuuri and football player!Victor… cAN YOU HEAR MY SCREAMS OMGOMG

The Secret Lives of Catholic School Boys series by
violetlolitapop, Teen, 35k (4 works)
A series of Victuuri short works of them in high school! Rec’d by @cajuncherrybee!

Raven Cycle Fic Recs!

The Pynch section yo

Wonderterror Weekend by nimmieamee - E - 49k

Adam Parrish gets Saturday off and spends the day falling in love with Ronan Lynch.

He also spends it fighting monsters, visiting Europe, and traumatizing people. But falling in love with Ronan Lynch is the part he chooses.

With Quiet Words I’ll Lead You In by @jesper-fahey - T - 20k

In that moment, Ronan looks like some kind of ferocious monument to a new found god; young, but infinite in power and a furious kind of sharp-edged beauty. Adam’s lungs feel a little short of air, but it’s probably just due the cold.

“I was freezing my fucking balls off out there.” Ronan complains and, just like like that, the illusion is shattered. He is a boy once more.

Cabeswater is trying to get Adam to realise something, but he’s struggling to understand what. When he and Ronan break down in the middle of nowhere, Adam finally finds himself with enough time on his hands to figure out some things about himself and his feelings.

Keeps Me From Unravelling by @jesper-fahey - N/A - 11k

Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.

Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is hideous!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.

(Or the one where a prompt generator gave me “Adam Parrish knits Ronan Lynch a hideous sweater” and I ran with it.)

Heart of Stone, Heart of Flesh by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 28k

The elk appeared out of the shadow of the forest canopy as if materializing in mid-air. He was as tall as the moa, but also had massive antlers that reached up and tangled with the branches on the trees. His coat was a dusty chestnut color with a white starburst over his chest and smattering of white across his cheeks and nose. The elk leaned over the fence and bent his massive head, as if showing Adam deference. To Adam’s right, Destroyer knelt down on her front knees and dipped her nose into the grass.

To Adam’s left, Ronan bent his head too, like he was about to say grace. When he spoke his voice was soft and low. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

(Or, the one where Adam is a veterinarian and Ronan has dreamt up a whole menagerie of extinct/magical creatures.)

Amor gignit amorem by @amethystinawrites - G - 3k

Considering everything that had happened and just how desperately Adam wanted to get away, he hadn’t expected to find anything like peace in Henrietta.

Trust Ronan to prove him wrong.

Roses on Parade by Jamesina - M - 8k

Adam accidentally ends up in Ronan’s dream and Ronan is very Ronan about it and Adam is very Adam about it. Gansey is also briefly very Gansey about things.

Alternate summary: Adam has feelings and hyperventilates about it for 9,000 words.

Heavenly Wine and Roses by Jamesina - M - 4k

Gansey has everything under control.

Roses in Between My Thighs by Jamesina - E - 6k

Four things that could have ruined them but didn’t.

the hang of being alive again by @ronibravo - M - 12k

Falling for Ronan had felt like going to speak at the same time as someone else after a long silence, two people bumbling over their words to say, no, sorry, go ahead about three times before one of them says what they were going to say.

mapping territories by @cheselle T - 3k

“I’m not going to offer you a briefcase of money and demand you stay away from him,” Declan said. “This isn’t a fucking telenovela.”

“I can’t believe,” Adam said, “you just said the word telenovela out loud.”

or, Declan has a talk with Ronan’s boyfriend.

adam parrish is in love (or, you can take the boy out of the south) by heyfightme - M - 4k

“Alright Parrish, I yield. What is it, then? You miss the Daisy Dukes and shitkicker boots on those cowgirls back home?”
“I’m from Virginia, not Texas. Not a lot of cow-anybodies.”
“I refuse to believe you don’t know anyone who lives on a farm.”
Parrish rolls his eyes hard enough to shake the earth.
“Stewart, of course I know somebody who lives on a farm. Just no cow-people. There’s a difference.”

Adam is in college. He has a roommate. Adam’s Virginian accent has gotten him curious. Also, Ronan comes to visit.

-Somnium Meum Vestrum by shoulderbone - T - 8k

Ronan smells like smoke and spice, like the memory of a home he’s never had; like a feeling he dares not name.

Without Having To Say by @charmingpplincardigans - T - 24k

“Yeah? Which was the big guy downstairs? Because my good Catholic upbringing didn’t make the distinction.”

Out of nervous habit, Ronan brings his wrist up to his mouth and chews on the leather bands there. He’s been wearing them and chewing on them since he was sixteen. It’s a wonder there’s anything left to them at all. He feels the same way about his good Catholic upbringing.

“I think,” Adam says, quiet now. “That he wasn’t very nice, but that he wasn’t ever given a reason to be. I think it was self-defense.” It’s an explanation that sounds both close to home and far away. He looks up and out the window. His gaze gets caught there, distracted for the first time since they started.

Ronan looks as well, but it’s dark out now and all he can see is the shadow box reflection of the room against the black behind. Set against the rest of it, Adam’s hunched over reflection looks small and dark. Ronan is little more than a few swaths of stark negative space cut against the white glow. Neither of them has a halo.

(Or, that one where Adam is an art major and Ronan agrees to model for a sculpture of Satan.)

maybe i dreamt you by @memordes - T - 17k

Adam seldom dreamt of other people. His dreams were nebulous, winding, leaving him with abstract impressions. But there was Ronan, solid as flesh—and from there, the dream left Adam with the echo of a feeling.

It was one hell of a feeling, though.

The not really/necessarily pynch fics

Things That Go Bump In The Night by mochroimanam - T - 9k

Subtitle: The real ghosts are the friends we made along the way!
The gang goes to a Halloween haunted house attraction, only to find that things are a bit more….realistic…than expected.

Ronan reminded himself, viciously, that he interacted with a real ghost every day of his life. But Noah’s moments of otherworldly strangeness had nothing on this specter’s air of sheer sinister deadness.

Adam took a step forward next to him, and Ronan’s hand shot out, fingers gripping Adam’s sleeve. Being cornered like this made Ronan feel the same way he’d felt trying to get out of the dank cellar – claustrophobic and scared and angry. “Parrish,” he hissed, trying to pull Adam back. The girl was a good 20 feet away, but it still felt too close, and being any closer seemed like a decidedly bad idea.

Out for Re-henge by @charmingpplincardigans - G - 7k

Blue has a favor to ask of Ronan while Gansey and Adam are away. She ends up receiving much more than she expected. (Or, that one where Ronan teaches Blue to drive stick and they have adventures.) Post-BLLB.

we built this city by @fahye - T - 13k

“As you keep pointing out, I’ve died twice,” said Gansey. He was so bright that Henry almost wanted to look away from him, and so compelling that he couldn’t. “I don’t care what I’m supposed to be doing.”

I’m tired of being embarrassed. I’m sharing my testimony.

I was 12 years old when I first realized that I liked girls and boys. I told my friends and I waited a while before telling my family. It was so hard for me. No one told me it was wrong. Everyone supported what I was doing.

I was 13 when I had my first girlfriend. Both of our families knew about our relationship and no one said anything to us about it being wrong.

I was 14 when I almost left Christianity and started dabbling in witchcraft. I stopped because I felt guilty and got scared, but I wrote my own book of spells and tried making potions. I never told anyone about this. This was also my first year of high school. I almost became a board member in my school’s Gay Straight Alliance.

I was 15 when I was baptized in the African Methodist Episcopal Church. I went to a Protestant school until third grade, but I never went to church and I was never baptized. My aunt and uncle invited me to church with them and I went once in a while after that. I decided to get baptized shortly after that. I stopped going to church for a long time and became a serial dater. Guys, girls, I’d flirt with whoever I found on Tinder (back when it allowed minors). I felt really empty.

I was 16 when I went to a Catholic Mass for the first time (August 2015). It was my friend’s quinceañera and I had always been curious about Catholicism. After Mass and before her party, I did a ton of research about the Catholic Faith. This research continued for several months until I decided to convert when I went to college. 

I was 17 when I started going to Mass regularly (June 2016) and registered for Confirmation at my parish (October 2016). They would have placed me in RCIA, but placed me in first year Confirmation so I could be with people my age. I tried to become an usher and they wouldn’t let me since I hadn’t been confirmed. I went home crying and my mom finally agreed to letting me go to Confirmation sessions. When I was 17, I had a girlfriend for several months, but it ended on the Fourth of July 2016. I started to feel very guilty towards the end of the relationship. I prayed for guidance because I felt trapped in a sinful situation. Without even mentioning this to her, she broke things off (the Lord answered my prayers). From that point, I said to myself, “Never again”. I started this blog that same month and became pro-life after looking at a lot of Catholic blogs here and doing research myself.

I am almost 18 and I am fully committed to following Christ and His Church. I remember the first time I went to Confession. I was so scared that I cried the night before, but now I look forward to going. I feel so free and new every time. I remember what some friends said to me. “Are you really confessing being bisexual and dating girls?” My temptations do not define me. My identity is in Christ. Same sex attraction is not “who I am”. It is the cross that I must carry so I can follow Jesus. My image at school has changed to “weird conservative Christian girl”. People who have known me for a while ask about what changed in my life. I always point to Him.

I will be 19 when I am formally received into the Catholic Church. I am going to finish with RCIA in college. I can’t wait to be confirmed and receive the Eucharist. I am really looking forward to this day.

Every day I thank God for His mercy and grace.

Thank you for reading this. God bless you.

concept: everyone in adam’s dorm thinks he’s a witch

so, like, everyone knows there’s something odd about that parrish guy. he’s smart as hell and charming and sweet and also snarky and hilarious…but he has secrets. and not just the boyfriend back in virginia (who’s a catholic, street-racing farmer with a kid???) who no one can agree exists or not (there’s a whole betting pool on it). no, something’s strange with adam parrish. he knows things. weird things. like when it’s going to rain or when a professor’s going to cancel class or when the machine in the dining hall is out of ice cream. also, he’s freakishly great with plants (this one guy likes to tell this story of a rosebush flowering when he touched it but he could’ve just been high) and animals (stray dogs tend to follow him around campus a lot). he casually tells a bunch of girls he’ll do tarot readings for them once at a party and everyone assumes it’s just for fun, but everything comes true, in some form or fashion. so after that, there’s usually a small cluster of people waiting outside his door when he gets back from class to see how they’re going to do on that quiz or how that date’s going to go or if they should take that internship or forgive that relative or rekindle that friendship. so word starts going around that there’s something not quite normal about adam parrish. something unexplainable. something mystical. something witchy. he gets invited to join the campus wiccan club numerous times and he always politely declines. he doesn’t charge anything for the readings but people drop off small gifts anyway: baked goods and handmade jewellery and potted herbs and thank you notes. he gains a modest, devoted following. he answers questions on a facebook group in his spare time. obviously there are skeptics but no one really pays too much attention to a kid giving ‘psychic’ advice in his dorm room. it’s college. weirder shit happens all the time.

finally his roommate has to ask one day, as tactfully as possible, pretending he’s not actually buying into any ridiculous campus rumours: “…so are you or aren’t you?” and adam just looks up at him, distracted, and says, “what, bi? obviously. i have a boyfriend.” and his roommate is just like, “…never mind.” 

adam honestly kind of likes being ~cool and ~mysterious and well-known and he likes helping people out and being appreciated for his ~special talents even if he thought all he wanted was to fit in and fly under the radar and be normal. blue tells him he couldn’t be normal if he tried; gansey’s proud; ronan’s smug.

so people speculate for a while and never get any real answers about it and eventually they just accept his uncanny intuition as one of the quirks of the campus. UNTIL that one time ronan comes up to visit with a black cat trailing behind him that goes straight to adam when he sees him and a raven on his shoulder and an icy glare that seems like it could put a curse on anyone it falls on and everyone is intimidated and in awe because 1. the boyfriend is real, 2. they’re both actual witches, and 3. damn, they’re really fucking hot together

kent parson is mexican.

hear me out. he’s from ny, right? nyc’s latinx population (boricuas & dominicanos, primarily, but there’s a not insignificant population of other caribeñxs and latinxs in general) is significant. they changed the face of hip hop honestly. as a mexicana, im going to make him mexican, but feel free 2 make him boricua or cubano or whatever u want ! make him latinx.

anyway. about mexican!kent.

Keep reading

So I finally went into my list of bookmarks and tried to find the fave fics i’ve read so far.. and i think this is it :)) Please read the tags and stay safe!! Enjoy x

Autumn Leaves by suspendrs (28k)

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn’t mean to fall in love with him.

Mute by TroubledPro (123k)

How is love supposed to speak, when one can’t even choke out the words?
Louis’ life was a joke through his witty words.
Harry’s life was a joke through his lack of words.
Louis was classed as a normal child; mentally and physically.
Harry was classed as an abnormal child; mentally and physically.
Louis could speak.
Harry could not.
Harry had progressive mutism.
Louis did not.

Escapade by dolce_piccante (146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. 

He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

As You Are by zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It’s also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn’t get the big deal—not until he’s faced with this season’s judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

And down the long and silent street by whimsicule (86k)

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis’ past finally catches up with him.

With All My Heart, And More by littlelady (32k)

“A young John Doe, probably in his mid-twenties. He was found out on the street, lying in the snow completely beaten up, covered in blood. Internal bleeding, collapsed lung, the bones in his leg completely shattered, sprained wrist, dislocated shoulder, severe concussion, cut and bruised all over. He had more broken ribs than whole.”

“Is he in the ICU? Room 405?”

“Is he one of yours?”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

When Harry is left to die after having gotten abused and seriously injured by his ex-boyfriend, he is brought into the hospital where Louis works as a nurse. Louis instantly feels the need to take care of him, maybe a bit more than he usually does with his other patients. But only because Harry survived the abuse, it doesn’t mean that they are out of the woods yet. They still have a long and hard journey ahead of them filled with cries, fear and pain, but also with joy, laughter and lots of love.

domestic monsters series by g_uttertrash (234k)  

(this is the summary of chapter 1: come on, jump out at me)

Harry is a witch from a long line of power, an ancient line that’s one of the strongest left alive in their hemisphere. He can cast spells without a word if need be, fly on a broomstick, and has a black cat (a kitten, really) named Felix that is his animal familiar. He can shape galaxies in his cupped hands and can destroy them just as easily. He can choose exactly how to use his power, for encouragement and support, or for more nefarious causes if he wishes to.

And as fate would have it, he’s scared of haunted houses.

(Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren’t exactly what they seem…)

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (209k)

Harry’s new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by theboyfriendstagram (84k)

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.


A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can’t have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

we’re still going, eight in the morning by nooelgallagher & yoursongonmyheart (32k)

Harry washes his hands quickly before grabbing his phone. His screen lights up to 3 notifications.

DJTommo is now following you!

@DJTommo mentioned you in a tweet!

Direct Message from @DJTommo!

Harry yelps, throwing his phone to Niall who just barely catches it.

Niall looks down at the phone, seeing first the tweet, then the DM. He tosses the phone back to Harry, who nearly drops it. “What are ya doing, mate! Answer him!”

Harry thinks for a moment about what he wants to say. This is his chance to actually talk to Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson messaged him directly. He can say anything he wants. He begins typing, his fingers shaky.

Niall comes over to stand next to Harry and peers down, looking to see what he wrote. When he does, he lets out a groan.

…Or, the one where Harry owns a bakery, Louis is a radio DJ, and Niall and Liam roll their eyes at their incessant flirting.

hold onto you stars by vashtaneradas (16k)

au; harry’s in the army, louis’ back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

If Seven and MC were childhood neighbors and met again during the start of MysMe

-MC have always seen Seven outside to run for the errands of her mom

-He always looked so worried and sad, so she wanted to talk and play with him.

-She once tried to go to their house and saw on the window where their mother was beating up another boy who looked like him, and thought it was Saeyoung

-She didn’t know that he had a twin brother for they are being kept inside the house and Seven was the only one who’s allowed to go outside

-One day, when she tried to go to their house and looked at the window again–there, she saw Saeyoung, who was wearing glasses and his twin brother Saeran whom she thought was Saeyoung.

-MC really wanted to help them, but she didn’t know what to do and she’s only a child; she attempted to tell it to her parents but they were busy with work and almost didn’t have time for her, so she couldn’t tell it to anyone.

-She secretly looked out for them, and would sometimes go at their backyard and leaves food for them

-It continued for years and the last time the 13(14)yo MC saw the 14(15)yo Saeyoung was when he saw a guy with a mint hair talking to him. She didn’t knew that it was the last–or so she thought.

-She tried looking again from their window time to time, but didn’t saw him again. Eventually, even his younger brother was gone and never saw them again


-Seven years later, 20(21)yo MC who’s already in college downloaded an app which led him to a stranger, Unknown, and made him go to the apartment

-As Seven was checking the CCTV, he thought MC was cute, and thought that she was someone familiar to him.

-She didn’t hacked any of her accounts (only her phone and some sources to see if she was “clean”) and she didn’t know her name.

-few days later, she realized that maybe he only looked like her childhood neighbor, for she knew that she heard the word
“Saeyoung”, not Luciel.

-when she realized that Luciel was only his Catholic name and not his real name, she thought again.. that maybe, just maybe.. Seven was his long lost neighbor, Saeyoung.

-However, when Seven went to her apartment on the fifth day, she couldn’t ask him about it because he was cold and distanced himself to her

-But when they make up and finally told her to call him by his real name, Saeyoung, she realizes that it was him after all.

-She finally told her about it, and Saeyoung told her that she had been familiar to him all along, and he didn’t realized that she was his childhood neighbor, where he said that he always saw whenever he would sneak outside the house

-MC cried in joy, saying “I didn’t know that you actually know me before!”

-“Same here.”, said Saeyoung, as he wiped her tears

-“I’m really sorry that I couldn’t do anything back then.. I really am, Saeyoung. I’m so sorry… you.. you don’t deserve someone like me.. after allー”


-MC was shocked, he looked angry but his eyes were the same before, worrying like a puppy

-He held MC’s face and had teary eyes, saying “Never say that again! Ever!” He hugged her tightly and said, “Don’t ever think that way, MC. Please.” He held MC’s face again, “I love you. I really, really, love you. You made me like this. You gave me hope. You made the old Saeyoung reborn. You made me want to look forward to the future, and be happy. What happened before was inevitable, and I won’t ever blame you for that. You always have a good heart, MC. Just your thought about helping us twins is already enough. So don’t think bad about yourself. I should be the one who needs to say that I don’t deserve you.. because.. you are so bright.. and..ahh! I remembered. Don’t tell me.. you’re the one who secretly lefts food at our backyard?”

-MC, once again, cried and Saeyoung hugged her again, tightly.

-“Thank you, MC. Please don’t cry anymore. I don’t want the RFA members to think that I am always making you cry. I’m so happy to have someone like you, MC. I love you.” And gave you a soft kiss on the lips.

-“Once we get Saeran back, I’ll definitely make sure to tell all about you to him. I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that my girlfriend was actually our neighbor who secretly brings us food. Thank you, MC…. so shall we do it again?”

-MC wiped her tears and wrapped her arms in Saeyoung’s neck, as Saeyoung’s arms are on MC’s waist and passionately kissed her.

nevertoolatetosummonsatan  asked:

Hello! How would you distinguish between ENFP and ESFP - specifically how do you determine whether someone is a se user, or whether they just have well developed te and can turn ideas into immediate actions?

(Gif: Aurora and Klaus, The Originals. ENFP + ESFP.)

N’s are more interested in the unseen intangible meaning of things. They read into situations. They see something and move beyond it to what it says without words. The object interests them less than the thoughts that come from the object. Se’s are not like this. The object is the object. It is to be used, worked with, manipulated, experienced in its realness. The idealism of Ne, intangible focus of Ne, “unrealistic” element of Ne, seems naive and out of touch to Se.

It’s not about ideas. Anyone can have ideas. Tons of them, in fact. Se’s are great with ideas and with making them HAPPEN. The idea becomes an action, due to Se’s desire to “make real” what is in the mind. This is why a lot of high Se’s have one primary goal in life; they are experiencing life to the fullest, but the lower pull of Ni tries to give them a singular greater purpose in life. Like the catchphrase for The Last Kingdom: “Destiny is all.” (Se: I’ll get around to it.)

A real Ne, a HIGH Ne, is more interested in what is unseen, in what is happening between the lines, in “intuiting” into circumstances, people, their motives. It makes everything more complicated than it seems on the surface. Its focus is connections, establishing and linking things together.

I’ll give you a personal example.

Would you believe I wrote upward of 300,000 words on the Christian / Catholic symbolism in The Lord of the Rings? For fun? I could have had a college level thesis, for the amount of work I voluntarily did out of personal enjoyment, just because the first time I saw the film I went, “Oh, look, Gandalf falls into the abyss in the position of the cross… and he’s going to come back later as a resurrected higher being! Hahaha, that’s great. I wonder what other symbolism I could come up with?”

It ranged from the Mother Mary embodiment of Galadriel to the four different incarnations of a Christ figure (Aragorn, Sam, Frodo, Gandalf) to Sam’s little box of salt, and how believers are called to be the salt of the earth. I explored what salt is for, what the meaning behind the salt is; I talked about Tolkien’s Catholic concepts of Purgatory and how they influenced the Dead Marshes, and Gollum’s state of half-life, and what the White Tree of Gondor represents, and how the entire last section of the film speaks to deeper symbolism; how people change, how death comes upon us, etc. One little (okay, LONG) movie opened up an entire world of imagination for me, which I then went on to make infinitely more complex.*

That’s what Ne does.

It was a movie the first time I saw it. Now, it’s an entire mythology in my mind, far and beyond what Tolkien intended. My Ne saw a ton of symbolic connections and entwined them together, until literally every scene in that film is pregnant with deeper messages.

And, I do that with almost everything, all the time.

I went to The Force Awakens and came out with a thousand questions about Kylo Ren, why he chooses voluntarily enslavement while most villains are either trying to create an enslavement of others or escape the chains confining them; what that means for his psyche; what the mask represents, in his mind, and to the external world – and within the mythology of Star Wars. I went on to think about the natural antagonism between sons and their fathers, and how that branches into an overall attitude toward God. I branched from there into the inverted (reversed) symbolism of Anakin being a Christ figure for the DARK SIDE and whether Kylo Ren will follow in his shoes; I thought about how the Jedi represent a rigid moral force of service without love, and how that can cause severe failure and black and white rejection of those who need their help, but have too much “darkness” in them to be thought of as worthy.

Tired yet? Or excited?

So far in this season of watching Doctor Who, I’ve thought about the ethics of slavery, the moral complexities of replacing humankind (and animals) with slave-robots, the black and white nature of morality, the duality of parenting with arguments for both sides (too much or not enough?), the literal, figurative, and $$ of sacrifice in a comparison between morality and capitalism, and the ultimately terrifying but enlightening realization of “I don’t have all the answers.”

Oh, and this is what happened after I watched Labyrinth.

Basically, what I like inspires my imagination and what I like, I must INFUSE with my imagination and entwine it deeply into the things that I value the most (Fi) through giving it individualized greater significance.

I have no idea if that helps or not. But… there it is. My Se friends love what I do, but they are not initiators of similar books, blog posts, or conversations. My mind naturally rushes to the unseen and makes “a big deal out of nothing.”

- ENFP Mod

* Eventually the book wound up in this format, after I tried 10 different approaches over a six month period. And I’ve taken some criticism for it, due to my “cheekiness” and “casual relationship with God.” Sorry. Good natured irreverence comes with the Ne. Even the sacred isn’t… well, that sacred. ;)

queerselinakyle  asked:

i would like to her ur nursey family feels pls!! (i have plenty of my own & made a post but i need All the nursey content)


  • Okay, so, Nursey’s birth parents:
    • Amal Hassan Nurse      
      • born in Morocco, but spent the first ten years of her life moving all around northern Africa and the Middle East because her father worked as a security consultant and would spend a few years in various places designing systems for different companies
      • speaks both dialects of Arabic fluently, but will always prefer Moroccan, because it sounds like home to her
      • moved to the States when she was thirteen and her dad got a permanent job working for a security firm in Manhattan. Grew up in the private school system and never left
      • has a BA from NYU and a JD/PhD from Columbia. Is a senior partner in an NYC firm specializing in foreign and comparative law. smarter than all of us.

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Today I felt like crying in church. I was on the verge of sobbing.

I was overwhelmed by a desire to be with God. To serve him.

I don’t know what to do. I’m 18. I can go be a nun at any time. That’s a decision I have to make for myself.

I don’t even have to go to college I can join a convent at any time. So I don’t know what’s keeping me. On top of that I’m gonna be in debt when I get out. Maybe I shouldn’t go to college if I know I’m going to a convent anyway.

It’s so confusing and I don’t know what Jesus wants from me right now. Right now I need a little more than “Pick up your cross and follow me”.

Pray for me please that I may trust in Gods will and that I may strengthen my prayer life.

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2016

I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is larry. I like making lists and I like larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2016 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

An honorable mentions list will probably come soon, because there are so many brilliant fics that don’t reflect in their kudos.

25.) I Love You Most by @alienproof (11k)

Friends with benefits has always been enough for Louis. Until, of course, it isn’t.

24.) Just Like the Wolf Before He Bites by @crazyupsetter (11k)

He’s loud, Louis is, and that’s far from unusual for him, but the volume of it still has Harry pulling back the curtain. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his brain about telling Louis off, because it’s fucking half three in the morning, but then.

But then Harry’s eyes get stuck on the soft glint of Louis’ stubble in the light, and he’s making his way across the room before he even realizes it.

Louis, for his part, just tips his chin up to give Harry space and keeps talking, waving the joint in his hand around for emphasis. He doesn’t even bother to greet Harry, going on with his story to his semi-rapt audience, just settles a hand in between Harry’s shoulder blades and pushes him down firmly.

Harry just. Relaxes. His eyes slip closed, pushing his entire face into that spot underneath Louis’ chin, where his hair is still growing, neat and prickly. The scent of Louis’ cologne drifts into Harry’s nose, light and fresh, and it’s calming. Comforting. His breathing syncs up with Louis’ quickly, and Harry feels so much better than he had five minutes ago he almost wants to cry.

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The Gargoyle Song

I should have been more worried about Mike. I should have listened more, I should have paid more attention, I should have just been there. But I was seventeen and selfish and so absorbed in my own little world that I couldn’t be bothered to actually hear what he was trying to tell me. At the same time, I was only seventeen, sheltered, and didn’t know what to do with the information he was trying to give me.

That doesn’t excuse me or dismiss the guilt. While we’d drifted a bit apart recently, we’d been best friends since second grade; I should have at least tried to do something, but by the time I realized how bad things had gotten, it was too late.

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Happy Tears

Okay, so I have to share this with you all… As long as I pass my classes this term, I will be graduating on time!! You guys honestly have no idea how huge this is for me. Just two years ago, I was kicked out of college. I went to a college and chose a major that I did not like to make other people happy. I struggled a lot and even with the help of my professors and tutors, I got awful grades. It got to the point where I received an email saying that they were kicking me out of school. I got that email on the day I was leaving for a mission trip for spring break. I spent that whole mission trip freaking out about what I was going to do. I would have had to move out of the dorm the second I got back, tell my parents, and figure out what to do with my life and pay off my loans. While I was gone my parish heard what happened and through their connections at my school, they got me to meet with someone who was able to get me back into college just in time for the first day of spring term. Since then, I have changed my major, became peer minister at my Newman Center, and have been getting good grades. I was terrified I was not going to graduate on time, because I could not afford another term of classes. Today I received the news that I am barely making it! Your girls is GRADUATING!!!! God was by my side through this whole process, and I will thank Him everyday for this! Also, I did not cry in front of my adviser when she told me I was graduating, I waited until I got into the elevator…

The Failure of Perfect Education

Today I realised that math education is an even worse/harder problem than I’d first anticipated.

So, for background, my brother is in the local equivalent of 8th grade. He’s brilliant and came first in the country for the pre-high school standardised tests. He now goes to one of the quartet of The Best Schools* in my country. His teacher was a friend of mine in college who majored in math and is quite good at explaining things. Basically, everything possible is in my brother’s favour.

My brother was home today, so my mother asked me to teach him some math, so that he can n̴̠̈͘é̸̲v̷̢̛̻̓e̵̪̔͗r̷̪̽͜͠ ̵͚̀͝e̶̪̻͒̕s̷̞͇͒̕č̶͓̚a̸͉̬͑̌p̸͉͈͂ẹ̷̇ education. To see where he was, in order to teach him from there, I decided to gradually give him progressively harder problems, starting with what I thought would be the absolute most basic thing possible.

I gave him 60 + x = 2x + 4x

He looked startled and asked how to do that. I asked if he knew how transposition worked. He said yes, but that he didn’t see what he could do there. I said to transpose the lone x…

…And he told me that you can only move terms from the right side of the equal sign to the left side.

I am told my “what the serious fuck” face was priceless but, alas, there was no one on sight to record it for posterity.

Anyway, after talking it through a little, it came to light that he had simply never realised transposition was symmetric. He had thought that “transposition” was basically a magic spell you cast to move a number from one place to another.

He didn’t know why this worked. He’d never seen someone transpose from left to right before, because all his example problems so far had been in the same format. He didn’t know why the sign of the number changed. He didn’t know what it meant for an equation to “balance”.

So I showed him the behind the scenes of transposition. I showed him that the actual process happening was:
60 + x = 2x + 4x
60 + x = 6x
60 + x [-x] = 6x [-x]
60 = 6x - x
60 = 5x
12 = x

That bold step? He didn’t know that was a thing. He didn’t realise subtraction was happening at all and just conceptualised transposition as picking something up from the right side and plopping it down on the left side. After I explained the “balance” of equations to him (including wtf “=“ meant), he had a look as if a dozen gears had clicked into place all at once. He was Enlightened.

Now, I’ve tutored kids before, so I knew all sorts of weird ideas could pop up. However, they’d never been the best students in their class, and they’d had lousy teachers, and they went to poor schools, etc. So it always made sense to me that they’d have wound up with misconceptions.

Today I learned that, even if you have the literal best student being taught by someone who fully understands what they’re teaching while in the one of the best schools -
- That, even then, sometimes learning just straight-up doesn’t happen. That, sometimes, that perfect student doesn’t know wtf an equals sign really means.

I don’t know what happened to lead here, to be honest. It wasn’t too much for him to understand - he completely got it under two minutes. He isn’t being taught by someone who can’t explain things, because his teacher did an excellent job of explaining physics stuff to me when we were both in college. His peers are some of the brightest kids in the country, because our school system rations students to schools by test score.

Maybe the classroom environment is just bad for learning? Maybe it’s too noisy for focus? Maybe the teacher can’t go into enough depth for everyone to fully get it? Maybe the students don’t ask enough questions when they’re missing something? Maybe no one quite realises that they don’t know something when it’s not being worked through one-on-one?

I don’t know! Learning is failing to occur under the best possible schooling conditions and I don’t know why! What I do know is that that is terrifying.

* They’re a quartet because they’re every intersection of [Catholic | Anglican]*[for boys | for girls] My brother goes to the Catholic boys’ school, my father went to the Anglican boys’ school, etc.

(The other place I’ve expressed concern about our schools)


Allen Ginsberg reads his poem America

by Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997)

America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can’t stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.
When will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Christs?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When will you re-invent the heart?
When will you manufacture land?
When will your cowboys read Spengler?
When will your dams release the floods of eastern tears?
When will your technicians get drunk and abolish money?
When will you institute religions of perception in your legislature?
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
I don’t want to die young.
I want to die old and unhappy.
I don’t mind dying so long as it’s not sordid.
Now Burroughs is in Tangiers I don’t think he’ll come back it’s sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of playing a practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
America I haven’t read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I’m not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get - only two dollars and twenty-seven cents.
I don’t want to work, maybe too good looking for the job.
I can’t study anymore. I’ll never teach for a living.
I sit in my house for days on end without going out.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
The American flag is absolutely meaningless to me still just as it was in the thirties.
I won’t say the Lord’s Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven’t told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
I’m addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I’m obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I pass the corner of North West Street and Montgomery Street.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
Time Magazine is always telling me about responsibility.
Businessmen are serious.
Movie producers are serious. Everybody’s serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven’t got a chinaman’s chance.
I’d better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two sticks of marijuana, millions of genitals, an atom bomb, twothousandfivehundred mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in my flowerpots.
I have very few bordellos and that’s all there is.
I have abolished the whorehouses in France and Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I’m a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they’re all different sexes.
America I will sell you strophes at $2,500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe as trade in and the rest of your life to pay.
America free Tom Mooney.
America save the Spanish Loyalists.
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die.
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven my mother took me to a Communist Cell meeting they sold us bubkes, a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me cry I once saw Border plain.
Everybody must have been a spy.
America you don’re really want to go to war.
America it’s them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia’s power mad. The Russia wants to eat us alive. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to take our factories.
Her wants to corrupt our college girls.
Her wants to put us all in slave labor camps.
Her wants to emaciate us like skeletons.
Her wants Malenko or Buganin or somebody to be our boss.
Her wants to dictify us.
Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Hah. Him need niggers. Huh. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from reading the newspapers.
America is this correct?
I’d better get right down to the job.
It’s true I don’t want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts factories, I’m nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I’m putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.

White Rabbit - Three

Spencer dashed into Agent Hotchner’s office, not even stopping to knock. Luckily, his supervisor was alone and didn’t berate him for his lack of professionalism.

“Dr Reid, is everything okay? I thought you were lecturing today?” Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, greeting the younger man with a concerned look on his face. Spencer was out of breath from hurrying from his car and into the office, and Aaron knew that something must be wrong.

“Hotch, I’m really not sure. One of the students handed me this and then ran off.” Reid placed the folder onto the next watching as Hotch flipped it open and started leafing through the papers.

“Spencer, help me out here. I can’t read as quickly as you.” Aaron picked through the crime scene photos that appeared in front of him, finally seeing the handwritten letter and scanning it.

“This girl, Alice. She claims she knows who killed these people, that the cases are all linked. She shouldn’t even have these photos or some of the information that she does. And there’s a Polaroid… ” Spencer rummaged through the many papers searching for it and finding it, handing it to his boss “…here. She’s with two of the girls that turned up dead. She knows them.”

“You think she’s got something here?” Hotch looked at the Polaroid and back to the crime scene photos.

“I think she might. Hotch, I remember three of the cases coming across our desks but we didn’t have anything. No leads, nothing. But she’s picked out more, saying they’re linked and that she knows how. And she was nervous, she practically threw the file at me and ran, but then she was stood watching as I got into my car, like she was making sure I’d read it. As soon as she saw that I’d seen her, she ran again.”

“So she is definitely a student there then? Did her Professor say anything about her behaviour?” Hotch was studying the Polaroid carefully.

“Only that she wasn’t usually that nervous, he said she was quiet but she was one of the smartest in the class.”

“Hmmm.” Aaron eyed the photos of the bodies. “What do you think, Reid. If you think there’s something here, I can make a few calls and we can go and speak with her. I trust your judgement.”

Spencer moved around the table and stood behind his supervisor, bending over and pointing to the photo.

“The bracelets, everyone in that photo has them on, even the people in the background have them on. And the children only have one on. The way they’re all dressed as well, very simply.”

“You think it’s some kinda of group? A cult?”

“It’s something. She’s younger in the photo but it’s definitely her. And in her letter she makes a reference to knowing the victims, but not by the names they were given. A lot of groups or cults, whatever we want to call them, will assign members different names in an attempt to detract from the previous identity. That’s if the followers don’t change their names in the first place.”

“Okay, I agree, we might have something. Do you have any contact details for this girl, Alice, did you say her name was?” Hotch put down the photo, looking up to Reid.

“Yes Alice. And no. She hadn’t even signed her full name. I’ll call Professor Frost though. He should have her details.”

His supervisor nodded at him and Reid pulled out his cell, scrolling for the number the Professor had provided him with.

“Dr Reid, How can I help?” The scholar seemed surprised to be hearing from him so quickly.

“Professor Frost, I need to speak with one of your students about something in the papers they gave me. Are you still at the school?”

“I’m afraid I’m not and I don’t have their personal files at home with me. If it’s of absolute urgency, I can return to the school within an hour or two.”

Spencer mouthed to Hotch, “is Garcia still here?” He nodded.

“Could you just provide me with a surname then. We should be able to find her from that? It’s the girl you called Alice that I need to speak with.”

“Of course, I’m surprised she didn’t leave it on her file though. But it’s Manchester. Alice Manchester.”

“Thank you Sir, sorry to have bothered you at home.”

Spencer rung off, the Professor telling him to call if he needed anything else.

“Got it. I just need to see if Garcia can find her based on just her name.”

Hotch shot him a withering look. “Do you know Penelope at all?”

They walked down the hall together, Hotch having gathered up the contents of the file.

“Hey Boy Wonder, wasn’t expecting to see you back here today.” Penelope Garcia greeted her colleagues, spinning around in her chair to see them, a grin plastered across her brightly coloured lips.

“I wasn’t expecting to be back here today either. Penelope, I need you to find me contact details for one of the students who attended the lecture I gave today.”

Penelope didn’t need to ask which college he’d been at, she kept tabs on all of her team; liking to know where they all were at any given time. They were like family to her. She tapped away at her keyboard and within seconds, had gained access to the college’s central database.

“Name please, Genius.” Her fingers poised and ready to type.

“Alice Manchester, spelt like the city.”

A few more clicks and Spencer had the information he needed, Penelope reeling off an address and contact number.

“249 Carson Grove. That’s not too far from here right? Says she lives with her sister Ellen and her brother in law Robert Manchester.”

“Thanks Penny, you’re the best.” Spencer turned to leave, intending to drive there straight away if Hotch would agree to accompany him. A phone call might spook her and she’d seemed nervous enough already.


The two men turned around to face their female colleague who had a perturbed look on her face.

“Isn’t that odd?” she asked.

“What, exactly?” Hotch responded to her.

“Well it says she lives with her sister and her sisters husband. But they all share the same surname. Surely, she’d have a different one to them right?”

Penelope had an excellent point, one which both Spencer and Aaron had missed.

“Garcia can you do a quick search on Alice Manchester outside of the school’s database.”

She tapped a few more keys, pulling up multiple windows and tabs.

“Erm… There’s literally nothing. She has a drivers license attached to her school records as identification, but there’s no actual records of that being issued either.”

She tapped again, searching further whilst the men waited patiently.

“Nope, nada, zilch. Beyond the school database, that name doesn’t appear anywhere. Well, except for an Alice Manchester born in 1845 but I doubt that’s our girl. Why is she ‘our girl’ anyway? What has she done?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Aaron told her, thinking. “Can you find out her sister’s maiden name?”

“Can I find out her sister’s maiden name,” Penelope scoffed. “Is the Pope catholic? It’s….. Ellen Bradley. Okay, okay… So…”

She amended her search, looking for an Alice Bradley.

“Here we go. Alice Bradley born September 28th 1990, daughter to Paul and Marlene Bradley, tragically killed in 2000, she was left to the care of her older sister Ellen who was thirteen years older.. Yadda yadda yadda… Reporting missing by her sister in June 2005, three months before her sixteen birthday, she’d been spending the summer with her best friend Rebecca Olson in Rylon County. Um um um…. Here, picture. Is this the person you’re looking for?”

She pulled up an image from the missing person’s report.

That was the girl Spencer had seen this afternoon, and the girl from the Polaroid.

“Was the missing person’s report ever closed?” Spencer asked.

“Nope. It’s still active.”

“So her sister filed the report ten years ago and never bothered to inform the police when she turned up again?” Hotch turned to Spencer, the two men now confused.

This was getting curiouser and curiouser.

The Magnus Effect

Alec felt a little nervous. It was his first time flying on a plane. His whole childhood he’d never flown anywhere. He’d grown up in the Bronx, and his parents weren’t rich enough for expensive flights to foreign places.

Alec had worked the whole summer and throughout his first semester of college to save enough money to visit his best friend, Jace, during Spring Break. Jace had gone off to study at Caltech, a university at the other side of the country after graduation, while Alec stayed in New York. He studied literature at Columbia. He was a baseball player and he’d gotten into the Ivy League university on a sports scholarship. Measuring in at six feet, his long legs and cat-like swiftness were further augmented by his skills as a pitcher. Spinning the ball, causing it to curve into any direction he’d want it to.

It’s called the Magnus Effect. The Magnus Effect causes a spinning ball to curve away from its principal flight path. Alec had perfected his pitches, using this technique, making it almost impossible for the batter to hit any ball he pitched. He’d gotten the scholarship because of it.

His sport of preference was archery, though. But there was no scholarship for that. Jace and he had done archery together. He outshone Jace on it. It was practically the only thing he was better at than Jace . Jace was smarter, faster, better at getting girls, and beautiful besides.

Alec didn’t care about the getting girls part. He’d known for a long time now that girls didn’t interest him. He was sixteen when he realized it was Jace who got his heart beating faster every time he entered the room. To have a crush on your best friend who’s straight. That was a tough break. On top of it, no one knew he was gay, except for his sister Isabelle. He was raised a good Catholic and in the Bronx being gay wasn’t accepted. Not even in 2017. At least not around the block where his parents lived.

He’d lived in the dorms now, and Columbia was different than the Bronx. But still, a gay baseball player, it didn’t earn him any points. He knew that. So he lived a closeted life. It was okay, really. He’d only ever felt attracted to Jace, and, with him living at the other side of the country, it was easier for Alec somehow.

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Vermont Gothic

- You drive out of Burlington. Somewhere along the way the way the road turns to dirt. You try to remember the last time you passed a town, but can’t. You can’t remember the last time you passed anything but trees. You realize that your radio went out long ago. The sound of your car’s tires on the stony road fills your world. It is your world.

- You see a pride flag. You see another. The Catholic Churches are flying pride flags. You haven’t seen a flag that isn’t rainbow in as long as you can remember.

- You live on the same road as your aunt. You live on the same road as your grandmother. You live on the same road as your cousins. The road is named after your family. You’ve never left the road. You never will.

- You see a sugar shack exhaling its sweet steam. The air smells of maple. I love sugaring season, you think. You do not remember that it is August.

- The first leaf turns red, and you know soon they will come. You hear whispers of the forbidden word - flatlanders

- You run into Bernie Sanders at the grocery store. You run into Bernie Sanders at your local restaurant. You run into Bernie Sanders while walking your dog. You run into Bernie Sanders wherever you go.

- You have plans for summer. You’ve been looking forward to them. You’re not sure for how long. You don’t remember when winter began. You don’t remember what trees look like with leaves on them. You don’t remember a time before the wind and ice. You look forward to summer.

- You hear gunshots. Nobody around you reacts. The gunshots get louder, nearer. Nobody seems to have noticed. The gunshots are all around you. Hun'in’ season, mutters the woman next to you.

- You drive past people riding horses. Only seconds later, you drive past more people on more horses. You look down. You are on a horse.

- You go on vacation to New York city. People ask where you’re from. Vermont, you tell them.
that upstate?
where in Canada is that?
what’s a Vermont?
You’re no longer certain Vermont is real. The confusion in people’s eyes tells you it’s not.

- It’s mud season. Be careful, people tell you, don’t step in the mud. One misstep and you’ll sink. One misstep and you’re gone.

- It snows. You can no longer see most of the locals. They blend in.

- You’re looking for a local college. You research your first choice. It’s haunted. Your second choice is also haunted. Every college you can think of is haunted.

- You’ve heard rumors of the Ben & Jerry’s factory. Visitors from out of state ask you for directions to it. You have to tell them you don’t know. All you can do is wish them luck. You’ve never seen any of them again.