you antifa guys are actually more hateful and violent than any neo nazi group in the 21st century. its fucking disgusting and you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK
We’d usually just block you, Anon, but we’re going to use your message as a reminder of where the violence is coming from in 2017. Off the top of our heads, here’s what the year has looked like so far:
January 20, 2017: A right-wing extremist shoots a protestor at a Milo Yiannopoulos event at the University of Washington. January 29, 2017: Alexandre Bissonnette walks into a mosque in Canada during evening prayers and opens fire, shooting 17 people and killing six of them.
January 2017: Over 40 Jewish centers in the U.S. receive bomb threats.
February 22, 2017:
Adam Purinton tells two men from India to “get out of my country” then shoots both plus a bystander, killing one.
March 12, 2017: a mosque in Ypsilanti, MI. is set on fire by arsonists.
March 20, 2017: James Jackson arrives in Manhattan with a sword and stabs the first black man he sees to death. He later tells authorities he “intended to kill as many black men as he could.”
March 24, 2017: Yelling “I hate Muslims!” a man in Minneapolis stabbed a Somali man in an attempt to kill him.
March 26, 2017: A racist mob attacks a 15-year-old Polish boy in Gloucestershire and, when a local Asian shopkeeper tries to intervene, attack him as well with crowbars and baseball bats, then attempt to run him over with a car.
March 31, 2017: A 17-year-old Iranian/Kurdish boy is nearly beaten to death by a mob of eight people in Croydon after he revealed to them that he was a refugee.
April 6, 2017: A Charlotte store is set on fire by an arsonist who leaves a warning message for the shop owner that he “did not want any refugee business owners and that they would torture the owner if they did not leave and go back to where they came from,” according to police. It was signed “White America.”
May 5, 2017: A man walking his dog on South Beach in Miami is confronted by two men who call him a “fucking faggot,” then attack him, beating him unconscious. At one point in the attack, one of the attackers shouts
“all faggots need to die and we’re going to make sure they do!”
MAY 18TH: EDITED TO INCLUDE:
May 14, 2017: Vandals spray-paint hate graffiti on the home of a black family in upstate New York before attempting to set the house on fire while the family slept. Although the family escaped unscathed, their garage burnt to the ground and their house suffered some damage.
May 17, 2017: A homophobic mob break into the home of a gay couple and shoot and stab both men to death.
MAY 23RD: EDITED TO INCLUDE:
May 20, 2017: University of Maryland student and member of the “alt-Reich” facebook group Sean Urbanski walks up to 22-year-old Richard Collins III, who is black and who Urbanski does not know, and stabs him to death in an unprovoked attack.
May 27th: EDITED TO INCLUDE:
May 24, 2017: A barrage of doxxing, rape threats, and death threats received by trans comic book artist Sophie Labelle forces her to cancel an appearance and event at a Halifax book store, which also received bomb threats and threats of attacking the event. Labelle is forced into hiding.
May 26, 2017: Three men intervene on a MAX train in Portland when they witness another man verbally abusing two Muslim women with an Islamophobic tirade. The Islamophobe responds by pulling out a knife and stabs the three interveners, killing two of them.
MAY 30th: EDITED TO INCLUDE:
May 27, 2017: A white man drives his pickup truck through a campsite, targeting the Native Americans camping there while yelling racial slurs at them. He intentionally drives over two Native American men, killing one and injuring the other.
June 3rd: EDITED TO INCLUDE:
March 3, 2017: A Sikh man is shot and injured in front of his Seattle house by a white man waring a mask, who yells at him to “go back to your country!”
May 27, 2017: A 34-year-old Anthony Hammond lets loose with a flurry of racial slurs directed at a black man in a parking lot, then pulls out a machete and stabs the man before barricading himself in his apartment for several hours, until finally surrendering to police.
June 18, 2017: two men armed with baseball bats attack a group of Muslim teenagers, kidnapping a 17-year-old girl, who they beat to death, dumping her body in a pond.
June 1, 2017: A Princeton professor and racialized woman is forced to cancel a three-city lecture tour to promote her book about the Black Lives Matter movement after receiving over 50 death threats.
June 19, 2017: Shouting “I’m going to kill all Muslims!” 47-year-old Darren Osborne drives a courier van through a crowd of Muslims leaving a Finsbury mosque, killing one person and injuring ten others.
In case you have trouble counting, Anon, that’s threefourfive six shootings, three four arsons, twothreefourseven eight stabbings, twothree four mob beatings, and over 40 41 bomb threats by bigots, Islamophobes, nazis and racists so far this year. EightNineElevenTwelveFourteenFifteenSixteenSeventeen Eighteen people are dead because of these bigoted attacks and fifteen twenty-one twenty-twotwenty-threetwenty-five thirty-five were severely injured.
But it’s anti-fascists that people should be worried about, right?
“you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK“
Why the SPN mixtape scene from 12x19 is screenwriting gold, and should be taught to the next generations of screenwriters everywhere - analysis
20 seconds. Two lines of dialogue, three gestures, a couple more camera angles. Episode 19, season 12 of a genre TV show “Supernatural”. A single strike of screenwriting and cinematic genius. The mixtape scene.
Robert Berens and Meredith Glynn, I bow before you.
This scene should be used as an example for future screenwriters how you can put maximum of meaning into minimal time and dialogue. Should be analyzed and taught at universities everywhere, how to achieve the most using the least. How to write for TV, where you only have less than an hour to built something spectacular.
Let’s just peel off all the layers of these 20 seconds of footage and these 13 words. 13 WORDS.
(Cas knocks, Dean doesn’t say anything. Cas opens the door, apologizes for disturbing Dean in his room, and then takes a cassette tape out of his left inside coat pocket, and puts it on the desk, while tapping the label on it that says “Deans (sic!) top 13 Zepp traxx”.)
Cas: Um, I just wanted to return this.
Dean: It’s a gift. You keep those.
13 tracks. 13 words. The future. So number thirteen is important for the future. I mean, are you trying to tell us something here, writers?
(Dean takes the tape, oustreches his arm, and gives it back to Cas. We see Cas’ hand grabbing the tape, and taking it back.)
That tiny scene is ENORMOUS from the perspective of the narrative and the characterization. Let’s see what we can get out of it. (Prepare yourself: it’s gonna be long. Damn, how much meta can you write based on 20 seconds of television and two lines of dialogue?) (Hint: A lot.)
“Here,” John says almost as soon as Sherlock’s settled next to him. “I wanted to give you something special today. Something important. And I, uh, I think it is.” He says it with a little shrug, a tiny bit of doubt creeping in.
“It is,” Sherlock reassures him, and John huffs out a laugh.
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
After the reception ends, John and Sherlock exchange wedding gifts.
► Summary: Jughead has been the reader’s best friend for three years. One day, during a biology study session, the true bond between them both will see the light (I know I’m terrible at doing summarys)
“Do you trust me?” the question left your lips as a
sweet and soft whisper. Jughead remained silent but he nodded with his head.
After a hard, boring and usual day at the Riverdale
high school you and your friend Jughead walked to your home for a study session.
Of course Pop’s was the first option but the football
team was there celebrating last night’s victory and you both didn’t want to
hear and stand them more than you had to at school.
It really started as a study session because of the
enormous tone of pages you have to study for that exam the biology teacher
decided to put from one day to another, but the books and pens were left aside
when suddenly Jug asked about you and your aunt’s relationship and how it was
So, tell me everything. Tell me how your heart beats three times as quick when they’re around. Tell me how time blurs together when you’re with them but seconds feel like years when you’re apart. Tell me how their eyes look in the sun and how it feels to fall asleep in their arms. Tell me how you love them, in a thousand different ways. Tell me how they make the impossible seem possible because they are an example of an impossible dream coming true. Now, tell them.
I blame you entirely @kaxpha I take no responsibility.
…. Y u hurt me dude.
Anyways. Here it is, chapter 1. Lance and Shiro angst + broganes angst + KLANCE angst + ….Just angst all around, yo.
Um…So yeah, hope you like??? It’s also on Ao3 on my same name. It’s the second part of the Human Healing Pod Au.
Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. Human Healing Pod Au doesn’t belong to me.
Shiro frowns exasperated as he catches Lance’s blue glowing light from the corner of his eye.
It’s been a few weeks since their last group training took place with Lance’s new healing powers. The brunet insisted that he had the hang of it, being able to work through the process on small injuries without getting dizzy after it.
Lance had reassure Shiro that he will continue training on his own but Shiro had just pursed his lips, not convinced in the least. After a few minutes arguing, Shiro finally agreed to Lance’s plan but only if the brunet had someone with him during his training sessions, something that Lance had grudgingly agreed to along with a few more conditions.
One week later and Lance was already breaking one of their conditions.
“That boy, I swear.” Shiro mumbles, making his way towards Lance as the brunet places his hands over the alien refugee they just saved in today’s mission, his blue eyes falling into a vivid glow entirely in less than a tick, “Hey, I said no more healing today, Lance. You –“
It was just a light pull. Shiro placed his Galra arm over the brunet’s shoulder and pull just enough break apart the contact between him and the alien’s wound and suddenly there was screaming.
Agonized and pained screaming echoes around them and Shiro just stares in horror as Lance shakes and continues to scream in his arms, his glowing eyes getting brighter before losing their light and then being bright once again.
“Lance!” Shiro shouts startled, “Lance, buddy, what’s wrong¡?” He yells in panic, making sure to hold the teen tight against him as he continues to scream and then –
Then Lance sighs, eyes rolling to the back of his head, losing their blue glow, and he goes limp on Shiro’s arms, mouth hanging open in a silent scream and Shiro’s heart skips a beat at the sight.
“L-Lance?” He whispers softly, voice cracking, “Buddy?”
“LANCE!” Keith’s voice echoes in panic and urgency, “Lance¡? Shiro, what happened¡? LANCE!”
“H-He’s not breathing.” Shiro gasps, a cold shiver running through his spine, “H-he’s not –“
Lance’s suddenly taken away from him by a pair of red armored hands. Shiro blinks in panic and confusion for a moment before he raises his head and stares at Keith as the black haired teen cradles Lance’s body against his.
“Lance, baby, hey, come on, come on, this is not funny, Lance, please.” Keith mumbles, his free hand gently patting Lance’s cheek in hopes of getting a reaction, “L-Lance, baby, please, please, no. Hey! Come on, you promised! Lance!”
Everything’s a blur for Shiro after that. Keith’s screams and pleads echo inside him, mixing themselves with Lance’s screams along with Hunk’s sobs and the image of Pidge’s scared face. Barely noticing when Coran makes his way towards them and takes Lance from Keith’s arms, followed by the blurry image of Hunk holding Keith back as he trashes and screams wildly when Lance is taken away from him.
He doesn’t even notice Allura’s presence until she whispers his name against his ear and he snaps out of it. He blinks hard and takes the surroundings around him. He’s in Allura’s room, lying down on her bed, facing the ceiling in disorientation and confusion.
“Wha –“ Shiro mumbles softly, “What.”
“Hey, it’s alright. Take it easy.” Allura whispers gently, stroking his hair, “It’s alright.”
“What happened?” Shiro asks in a daze, eyes groggy and tired before they snap wide open as he remembers Lance’s limp weight on his arms, “Lance. What happened to Lance? Allura?”
“You killed him, that’s what happened.” Shiro freezes at the cold harsh voice that answers him and slowly turns his head to the side to meet his little brother’s glare.
“Keith!” Allura snaps, sighing in exasperation as if it wasn’t the first time she has scolded the teen.
“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Keith snaps back, frowning and glaring angrily.
Allura stays quiet and Shiro’s blood turns cold.
“Allura?” He asks in a small voice and Allura shakes her head.
“He died for a few ticks but we were able to get him back.” Allura answers, her shoulders tense and her voice tired, “But it wasn’t anyone’s fau –“
“No. It was Shiro’s. It was Shiro who made Lance push himself in every training session knowing the danger. It was Shiro who made Lance feel like he needed to push and push and push himself more every time. It’s because of Shiro that Lance has dark bags and swollen red eyes and is tired all the time. It was Shiro –It was Shiro who broke the connection and caused Lance’s heart to stop.”
One, two, three beats and then –
“What?” Shiro breaths out, slowly sitting up on the bed and waving away Allura’s complaints, “What? What does that – What?
“Keith.” Allura says calmly but with an edge of warning in her tone, “Stand down.”
“Whatever.” Keith mumbles, scoffing and sending Shiro a dark glare before turning around and walking towards the exit, leaving behind a frozen Shiro.
“What.” Shiro whispers, “What?”
“Keith, no, wait!” Shiro ignores Allura’s words as he climbs down the bed and follows his brother with wobbly but fast steps, “Keith Kogane Shirogane, come back her –!”
Keith turns around sharply and Shiro takes a surprised step back at the furious snarl on his kid brother’s face.
“Don’t call me that.” Keith whispers with menace, “I want nothing to do with you, you hear me? Nothing.”
“Keith –“ Shiro stops as Keith suddenly crashes against him, barely dodging the fist that was aimed for his face, “Keith!” He repeats, grabbing Keith by the arms and keeping him still.
“You damn son of a –! It was your fault! You and your stupid rules! You and – and – God, I hate you, Ifucking hate you!” Keith screams, fist hitting the young adult on the chest, “You fucking – I fucking hate –“
“You didn’t protect him!” Keith screams, still trashing and kicking against Shiro’s hold on his arms, “You didn’t protect him! You promised and you didn’t –! You just let him die in your arms! You just stood there as he died and –! Fuck!”
“Keith, please –“ Shiro rasps out brokenly but Keith shakes his head, taking a step back from his older brother, shrugging his hold.
“No. No. He died, Shiro. My – Lance died and I – I couldn’t – And –“ A sudden abrupt sob escapes his mouth and suddenly Keith falls to the ground, sobs shaking his entire body, “I –I –I didn’t know what – And you were – You looked so hopeless as you held him and I couldn’t – I fucking lost it –“
“Keith.” Shiro mumbles, his heart breaking for his little brother but the teen just continues to sob on the ground in the middle of the hallway.
“I-I’m sorry, fuck – I’m sorry, Shiro – I know it wasn’t – wasn’t your fault but –“ Keith presses the palm of his hands hard against his eyes in hopes to stop the flowing tears, “It was mine. It was my fault – And I slash out at you and I’m – He was dead, god , he wasDEAD, SHIRO!”
Shiro doesn’t hesitates and then he’s on the floor, wrapping his arms around his little brother as the teen shakes with sobs, still mumbling incoherently against his brother’s chest and Shiro takes no mind as snot and tears mix themselves on his shirt.
He just holds his brother, tight and strong, and sucks in a deep breath to stop his own tears from falling.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs under his breath against Keith’s wild hair, “I’m so sorry, little brother.”
Allura just stands quietly on the corner, watching with sad eyes as the brothers sit on the floor, holding each other. She turns then, giving them their privacy before she enters the first room down the opposite hall.
Her footsteps are soft as she walks towards the bed on the corner of the room. The room is dark and quiet, for the exception of the hard panting breathing coming from the bed.
Allura takes a seat on the start of the bed, near Lance’s face, and watches sadly as the brunet rasps out harsh breaths through his mouth, unable to fill his lungs properly.
“Hush, now, it’s okay, Lance. It’s okay.” She mumbles gently, brushing Lance’s wet hair back as the the brunet whimpers inconsolably, “Sh, asteráki. You’re alright.”
She stays there for a while, humming under her voice to calm the brunet down and whispering comfort words as he whimpers and whines unconsciously.
Allura losses track of the time but suddenly, the door opens once again and she meets Shiro’s wide scared eyes at the edge of the door.
“Shiro.” She calls softly and frowns when the leader of Voltron doesn’t knowledge her calling, his gray eyes solemnly placed on the shivering brunet on the bed, “Shiro, love.”
One, two, three steps back out of shock and then Shiro’s running out of the room.
She dies a little when he says sorry. So that’s it? Another apology? Is that all you’ve got for me today? He doesn’t know any better, the sinner will melt his skin into your bones if he could. There is lava everywhere and we can’t share a day without finding flaws to make us jump. There is enough distance between us to make the sun and the moon seem like two love birds who should’ve pushed a little harder to show up all at once. And while we’re on the topic of day and night, you’re on my mind daily and you’re the reason why it’s hard to sleep. I keep telling myself that there’s enough hope out there to save myself from who I used to be. I keep waking up with a belly filled with regrets and maybe that’s why I skip breakfast and lunch. I have a basket of poetry for dinner and it’s the only thing that ever fills me up. The weight of my soul doesn’t match up with the weight of my body, I guess I don’t eat enough. I do eat enough apologies though. Another I’m sorry and I’ll be full again. Some would say I’m full of shit. What’s a writer to a poet? Just someone who’s better at bullshitting. Maybe I’m kidding myself and there’s just a whole other world behind these doors that I’ve nailed shut. Behind the blinds before the sun comes in, behind my lies before the truth sinks in like black coffee that wasn’t brewed right, so we’ve been spilling the beans and claiming that ink is all we know. Some say that eyes are the windows of the soul, I have eyes dipped into ink and written into oak, which parts that I’ve shown, which hidden parts speak out the most? Those are the bits of who I am that I love to death. I want a lover that knows my words inside and out before I even have a thought. I want a lover that knows the size of the ocean and claims that it is intense enough to cut deep space open with nothing more than another I’m sorry. I want a lover that would tell me there’s no need to feel sorry for how you can’t be, rather… you should feel sorry for who you couldn’t be when you needed to be that person. Baby, mistakes come in three. For every broken heart, you’ve got to write. For the company that misery demands, you must love yourself. Wake up and eat your breakfast, smile a little today. Everything’s going to be okay. And no, we don’t have to fall in love. I don’t have to be your lover to be your lover. We don’t need anything to our names. We don’t need the stars. We don’t need the poems. We don’t even need the feeling of home because as long as you’re trying, I think that speaks enough for the sun to rise and for the moon to be full. They say that we should stick to the familiar, if you take a risk and fail then you’ll just end up miserable again. But what about the what if? What if we risk it all and get away with it? What if we make it through all of this without even a small scratch? There is hope where you see pain. Where one sees ugliness, another sees beauty. Where you’ve been blind, I can show you the way. Where you’ve been mute, I can speak you into my truths. Where you’ve been deaf, I can feel the vibrations. Where you lost yourself, that is exactly where I’ve found you. Alone, alone, alone. Lonely, lonely, lonely. Wouldn’t you know? The prettiest stars usually end up clustered. A universe within a universe within a universe. I want to love you like that. He doesn’t bat an eye every time a tear falls through the fingers she loaned him to warm up his night. Another brush of his lips and there will be a smile waiting for him at the bottom of the glass, another piece of his heart and she will see that the world doesn’t only turn when you hear the words you want. how did we end up like this? an ocean of regrets trying to forgive where we became two hearts beating for three. that’s the thing about jealously though, we feed on sentences we believe should be for us and curse the light for showing up too soon. But, the sun dims when you enter the room, the clouds always seem to have something better to say when every pocket is full. I over think each minute until we are a hypothetical season trying to love through winter and wondering where summer goes when the hugs go silent. I think the thing that hurts the most is thinking about how much I don’t think about you anymore– every unanswered goodnight, each letter I saved to play for the stars to reflect on those lost, another day of finding footprints towards places I can’t hear your laughter. what do you call a dream that keeps on coming back? a love you can’t see, but still finds its way into the core of your veins? an equation that only feels complete when your memory meets me for coffee? a day that doesn’t end until I hear the dial-tone of a call that said they would never hang up? I thought I found a home in you, but we were both running from the people we didn’t want to see, avoiding situational errors caused by the same hands that promised to love the earth tenderly, the same harmonious effort to extract positivity from an open wound. we knew we were going to sink, we just wanted to test out the water. we knew the first i love you was going to hurt, I just wanted to see how many people I could leave behind until I lost myself. baby, home is a list of people that are never coming back. maybe I don’t want to be yours, maybe I don’t want to be mine, but someday has a lot of questions to answer for.
“Growing up, I had two older sisters. The eldest was stern, but deeply kind. The middle one was smart and mature, and also marched to her own beat. The three of us were inseparable back at the priory. We waited for our father to come get us, yet knew the day would never come. Ah, but that was a lifetime ago. And they’re both gone now…”
The World Happiness Report 2017 ranked countries on six criteria measuring happiness: GDP per capita, life expectancy, freedom, generosity, social support and an absence of corruption in government or the business sector.
“Happy countries are the ones that have a healthy balance of prosperity, as conventionally measured, and social capital, meaning a high degree of trust in a society, low inequality and confidence in government,"Jeffrey Sachs, the director of the Sustainable Development Solutions Network (SDSN) that published the report, told Reuters.
"What works in the Nordic countries is a sense of community and understanding in the common good,” Meik Wiking, chief executive of the Happiness Institute in Copenhagen, said.
Iceland, Switzerland and Finland were also ranked in the top five. The US was 14th on the list, while the UK came in 19th place. Sachs said the US had dropped one place due to rising inequality, distrust and corruption. He said that President Trump’s economic measures were “all aimed at increasing inequality – tax cuts at the top, throwing people off the healthcare rolls, cutting Meals on Wheels in order to raise military spending. I think everything that has been proposed goes in the wrong direction.”
Syria, Yemen, Tanzania and Burundi are the least happy of the 155 countries listed in the fifth annual report by the SDSN.
The aim of the report is to provide governments with a tool to improve overall well-being in their country. “I want governments to measure this, discuss it, analyse it and understand when they have been off on the wrong direction,” Sachs said.
World Happiness Report 2017 rankings:
8. New Zealand
12. Costa Rica
14. United States
19. United Kingdom
One day, trini shows up to training in only a yellow sports bra and tight leggings. She can physically feel kimberly’s eyes on her ass, and kim cannot focus on anything other than trini’s toned stomach and her thighs. Let’s just say that kim gets her ass kicked that day, but it was worth it, seeing trini in nothing but a bra and leggings. Bonus: Jason and zack wondering how much more gay the girls could get, before realizing they have feelings for each other, and billy, the innocent flower child that he is, being throughly confused when he beats kimberly three times in a row sparring
Possibly my most favorite thing about What If… is that Jemma is so wholly, constantly aware that the Framework isn’t real. It’s not just that she keeps telling people, it’s in how she acts. Daisy kind of gets lost in her attempts to maintain her unexpected cover, but she’s still typical Daisy—to the point of moving to intervene when those three guys are beating up that Inhuman when they first enter the Triskelion.
Jemma, on the other hand? Jemma has no time for playing along with this fake world.
Exhibit A: her lack of social graces with Julia. To us, her “fascinating” and “you have dreams” are just typical Jemma, taking in details and being impressed with the Framework’s coding. Some random NPC has dreams and makes art? Amazing! But from an outside perspective, her words and tone are so freaking creepy. Like. Jemma, babe. Could you sound any more like a serial killer surprised to hear that her next victim is an actual human being?
But what really stands out is Exhibit B: her conversation with Burnell. Sure, the line “Hydra? They’re all Nazis” is great as a quote, but as an actual thing to say to an impressionable teenager living in what is, effectively, a police state? She encourages a defenseless kid to not only proclaim a very unpopular fact, but to spread it far and wide. It may be the truth, but Hydra does not like it and Burnell is gonna get himself seriously hurt—if not dead—by spreading it.
In the real world, you’d expect Jemma to take that into account. If things went nightmarishly wrong and Hydra won and SHIELD was just some kind of Resistance, she might say something along the lines of, “Yep, Hydra are 100% Nazis, but they’re also basically in charge right now, so maybe keep that fact to yourself and like-minded people you trust absolutely? Just….throwing it out there. Save fighting the propaganda machine for a time when you’re in a position to protect yourself from retaliation.”
But nope. This kid isn’t real. What does Jemma care if Burnell—who’s already shown himself to be pretty senselessly brave by actually tagging Jemma’s car with “Hydra lies” even though we’re shown like two seconds later that surveillance is EVERYWHERE, including this high school parking lot—gets himself killed shouting from the rooftops that Hydra are Nazis? He’s just a collection of code. It’s not an issue.
And the best part? It’s exactly what we should’ve expected. It’s just an extension of how she approached Aida—calling her “it” and always keeping in mind that she was an android, not a person. She, maybe more than anyone else, is super conscious of the difference between real and programmed, and she takes a very practical approach to all of this as a result.
It is SO JEMMA and I love it.
tl;dr: Jemma has no time for manners or for saving/protecting/acting as a good influence on the lives of these Framework NPCs…and it is GLORIOUS.
(I was gonna include her calling Ward a “psycho stalker” to his face, but lbr, she’d do that in the real world without a qualm.)
Summary:Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
Warnings: Explicit smut. Includes M/M smut as well. Slight angst. D/s themes.
a/n: 11k of smut. This is a new low.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Voice thick with irritation,
spitefulness leaking from plush lips that supported the thin
cigarette hung loosely from his teeth, a threatening gaze sized you
up and left you feeling defenseless and weak under the scrutiny of
coffee eyes, depths uncertain and unknown.
You weren’t exactly sure how you
managed to find yourself in this predicament, hands held at the small
of your back, wrists overlapping each other as a much stronger hold
pinned you in place. You could feel the drumming of Hoseok’s
heartbeat against your shoulder, grip tightening around your skin as
you poorly attempted to gain back any control you once had, which
hadn’t been very much to begin with.
The song opens with three pick up beats
as André 3000 counts “one, two, three, oh” and then leads into the
first verse. The lyrics begin to describe the protagonist’s concerns and
doubts about a romantic relationship.
He wonders if they are staying together just “for tradition”, as in the
lines “But does she really wanna [mess around] / But can’t stand to see
me / Walk out the door?” André 3000 commented, “I think it’s more
important to be happy than to meet up to…the world’s expectations of
what a relationship should be. So this is a celebration of how men and
women relate to each other in the 2000s”. The song then leads into the chorus, which consists of the line “Hey ya!” repeated eight times, accompanied by a synthesizer performing the bassline.
During the second verse, the protagonist gets cold feet and wonders
what the purpose of continuing the relationship is, pondering the
question, “If they say nothing is forever…then what makes love the
exception?” After repeating the chorus, the song leads into a call and response section. André 3000 jokes, “What’s cooler than being cool?”, and the “fellas’” response, an overdubbed version of his vocals, is “Ice cold”, a reference to one of André Benjamin’s stage names. He then calls to the “ladies”, whose response is overdubbed from vocals by Rabeka Tuinei, who was an assistant to the audio engineer.
The song’s breakdown
coined the phrase “shake it like a Polaroid picture”, a reference to an
erroneous technique used by some photographers to expedite instant film. Early versions of the film needed to be dried, and shaking the picture helped it to dry faster. The breakdown also namechecks singer Beyoncé and actress Lucy Liu. The song closes by repeating the chorus and gradually fading out.
Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a
popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her
cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more
than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,523
language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes, drinking, sad story retelling (mentions of death and loss)
A/N: Moving right along…and yes, I used a Keep Reading line. Also, shout out to @redgillan for making my day brighter.