Here’s to Rap Monster, who has dreamed of this moment since his debut. Who used to perform as an underground artist as a student and who led his group so well despite his young age, despite of his uncertainty and fear for the future. Who makes sure to always be there to talk to his members about their feelings and thoughts. Who gave up entering a good university for his passion for music and has spent nearly every night writing lyrics and making songs even till the early morning, even while waiting to go up on stage and even when they are on the plane flying to their next event. Who always writes such thoughtful tangents on loving ourselves, trusting our youth and our passion, forgiving ourselves, and appreciating everything that we have in this world. Who shows us every side to him even though he’s scared of the vulnerability. Who never forgets to thank those around him even if he does not know them personally. Who always thinks of us wherever he goes and who is always rooting for us in whatever we do. Truly without him, BTS would not be the BTS that they are today. And I really hope that he knows that; I hope that receiving this award was able to take all his stresses and heavy thoughts from his shoulders. And even more, I hope that he has learned to love himself- flaws and all- just as we love him. Thank you for always showering us with love and thoughtfulness even if we may not deserve it, thank you for never forgetting about us. I hope that you never doubt yourself and your pure heart. You are more than deserving of this award.
Here’s to Jin. Who has shown us that hardwork and self-confidence is everything. He was accepted into Konkuk university, which is a prestigious Seoul university, before entering Bighit. He got into the film department with absolutely NO special admissions. He studied hard with plans as to become an actor but when Bighit changed his career path, Jin practiced every single day to become the amazing performer that he is today. I think of how he called his vocal trainer at 4am to show her that he has improved and I get so proud. Here’s to the oldest member of the group. Who constantly showers his members and his fans with love. Who was the one that cooked for the members, borrowing food and tools from his own family when BTS could not afford to, who made sure that every member became comfortable in Seoul when they first arrived at BigHit. Who is unbelievably intelligent as well. Who is always there to make us laugh with his silly gags and jokes, who is always there to make us feel loved. You worked hard to improve, you worked hard to be where you are right now. You deserve this.
Here’s to Suga. Who learned what it meant to be an adult at such a young age. Who used to perform for audiences of two and not have enough money to even buy ramen. Who used to listen to people constantly tell him that he would ruin his family. Who came up to Bighit as a trainee to become a hip hop artist and still worked hard and did not falter when that goal changed; learning to dance and what it means to be an idol, studying and working part time, fighting with suicidal thoughts, depression, self-hatred, a broken shoulder, and more. Who spends countless of sleepless nights working on music and lyrics, even on the nights that they are on vacation or when they just come back from a performance. Who truly showed us that though the start may be humble, the end will be prosperous. Thank you for teaching us what it means to live with passion, thank you for always working hard even if you don’t need to. You may not believe it, but this award is real and you deserve it. You’ve achieved all of your goals now! You’ve worked hard to be where you are. Thank you for showing us that hardwork and determination will never, ever betray us.
Here’s to J-Hope. Who was a street dancer and came into Bighit planning to become a vocalist and dancer. Who, when everyone doubted his skills, practiced even harder to become the well-rounded artist that he is now. Who taught himself how to rap and how to write lyrics despite having little experience in that area and is now one of the main creators behind bts’s music. Who practices every night, working on his mixtape and working on his dance skills, because he loves to do so. Who shows us what it means to live with hope and who never fails to show us happiness even in the most difficult of times. I hope you know that we are aware of how thoughtful you are, I hope you know that our love for you is eternal, and I hope you know that you too are more than deserving for this reward. And I just hope that you know that your existence to us gives us strength, that you do not always have to put yourself behind a happy facade and force yourself to hide your true emotions. We know the wide range of thoughts that you have running in your head and we absolutely care for and love all of them.
Here’s to Jimin. Who was a diligent student that studied dance so passionately. Who spends nearly every night in the practice room because he thinks “who am I to be resting right now?” I think of how you cried when people doubted your skills and I hope you know that those people are completely wrong. Your voice is something that touches our hearts and moves us and your skill in dance never fails to amaze us. You belong on stage. Here’s to Jimin. Who also showers his members with such adoration and affection, who is always there to comfort them in the darkest of times. Thank you for showing us what it means to be a good friend and brother. Thank you for showing us what it means to be kind. I hope you know that we love you just the way you are and that it’s okay to rest and to make mistakes. Please don’t ever doubt yourself.
Here’s to Taehyung. Who had to get the help of the Bighit staff to convince his family to let him begin training. Who wanted to be a farmer so that he could help his grandmother in Daegu. Who has been so strong throughout this difficult and painful year. Who still performed passionately for us even when he lost one of the most important woman in his life. Who put up a joyful front for so long even though he was actually in so much pain. Who constantly shows us new sides to his personality. Who constantly works hard in all that he does. Thank you for never failing to put a smile on our faces even when you were going through such a low point and thank you for teaching us what it means to be a filial child. Thank you for loving bangtan just as much as we do and thank you for always being so kind and bright. You share so much with us even when we aren’t deserving of it, Your stage presence and skill never fails to amaze me as well. We will remember your grandmother and we will always thank her for her blessings. You are more than deserving of this award. We know how wide the spectrum of your thoughts are and we know how intelligent you are- no matter what type of expression you might have on your face, your existence is always one that we will love.
Here’s to Jungkook. Who started training at such a young age, who was so shy and insecure about himself. Who left his family in Busan to come up to Seoul when he was just 14 years old. Who sacrificed the chance of making so many important memories for his dream, who sacrificed his youth for us. You gave up so many childhood memories- school romances, field days, school friends- to be on stage. Thank you. I think of how you cry when you think of the hardships that his members are going through and I thank you for trusting your brothers and your future, you deserve all the love in this world but please realize that you, also, have been through so many difficult times and have dealt with hardships. It’s okay to not be strong all the time. Thank you for showing us your growth and your endurance and passion. Thank you for showering us with love in so many ways (whether it be through your detailed song covers or your concert ments), thank you for becoming the person that you are today. Please know that even when your thoughts are cluttered and messy, we are always here to support you and love you. You are more than deserving of this award, thank you for sharing your youth with us.
Lastly, here’s to BTS. This whole entire post of mine is incredibly cheesy but they really do mean a lot to me. Not only do they brighten my every day with their humor and antics but they each have taught me so many things and they constantly inspire me in all that they do. They have taught me to dream, to be diligent, to be loving, to be humble, and to trust my future. More importantly, they have taught me what it means to be young. So here’s to BTS and their first daesang. You deserve it more than anybody in this world and you each are deserving of all the love in this universe. Thank you for showing us that we never are alone and thank you for understanding us and showing us what it means to achieve your dreams and to live with passion. We hear your voice.
A few things have been brought to my attention recently, and it has me extremely. disturbed. While Shauna and I both actively encourage our followers to message and communicate with us, Shauna has received several messages in the past few days that are inappropriate, unwarranted, and downright disrespectful.
“Can i make a suggestion for the smutty bit in part 5? Rape scene pls?”
“Why are you getting so stressed out over the smut scene lmao just make him fuck her against her will, whats the problem”
“A rape scene between them would be hot HEHE MAKE IT HAPPEN AUTHOR-NIM”
*Please know that this is merely a fraction of the inappriopriate messages Shauna (and other authors) have received in the past. I will take this moment to elaborate that RAPE OF ANY COLOR, SHAPE, OR SIZE IS NOT OKAY, AND SHOULD NOT BE MADE LIGHT OF WITHIN FANFICTION
Although we acknowledge that the majority of our followers, you, are significantly understanding and compassionate when it comes to writing, it has become increasingly apparent that there are many who are negligent to the fact that Shauna is a hard-working author who writes as an act of unselfish, unpaid love.
She does not write because you demand a recreation of your sexual fantasies
She does not write because you can’t jack off on your own
And she certainlydoes not write because of impersonal, disgusting, and utterly revolting messages like this
Authors write fanfiction because they gain fulfillment in knowing that someone, anyone out there appreciates, supports, and enjoys reading their work. Authors write fanfiction because it’s what they love. Writing fanfiction, even a piece that is just 1,000 words, can take grueling hours of repetitive writing and erasing, writing and erasing, until we have created a piece that we feel is acceptable for us to present to you.
Shauna is working relentlessly to entertain her followers with exquisitely-crafted stories, and in this case, stories that are 10k+ words a piece. She’s been stressing out because of the requests which she has committed herself to writing out of love for her followers. Which, I may remind her, she is not obligated, nor under contract, to fulfill.This applies to every writer who accepts requests: they write them out of love, and on their own accord, and this by no means justifies the bashing and hate that writers receive for not completing them.
And unfortunately, this incident isn’t contained to just Shauna’s experiences. Recently, I’ve heard from several of my mutuals, coming to me and explaining nasty-grams, insensitive messages pertaining to altering the plot/details of their writing, and requests calling for scenes that are downright disgusting. It disheartens me greatly to know that my mutuals, my friends have been putting up with this for so long, and continue to put up with this, sometimes on a daily basis.
This is why YOU matter.
YOU, the reader, have just as much power and influence as we, the authors do.
Be the person to send your favorite authors a note of encouragement. I promise, the only reaction your message will receive will be an incoherent strand of words on the other side of the screen, as the recipient of the message is overcome with gratitude and a surplus of self-esteem.
A simple message can make an author feel like they have the power to write a scene they’ve tried rewriting 9 times and still can’t seem to fix.
A simple message can allow an author confidence that they can rest, and that they are, in fact, human.
A simple message is all it takes to fight back against the indecency that the few undesirable members of the fanfiction community decide to commit on the regular.
And lastly, thank YOU, the few, the proud, that send such support, love, and encouragement to your local authors. YOU may think we get tired of it, but never forget that YOU are most likely the reason we still write today, and the reason we didn’t give up before.
“Wait, Tom?” You asked, looking at him eat the instant macaroni and cheese. He glanced up from the pasta, chewing slowly, “How did you and James get here in the first place?” He shrugged.
“I just followed along. James was the one who…wow, this is really delicious. How did you possibly make this?” He questioned, pointing his fork at you. The pasta flung off the metal, almost hitting you. You dodged the flying shells, frowning at him.
“Thomas, you didn’t even answer the questi-“
“Oh, yes. Ask Madison, he knows more about it than I,” he chuckled, “This is the first time I gave the honor to him. He must be happy.”
“Not quite,” James said, walking in, “You did help, you mean. And Burr almost came too, but he was too late.” James said, sitting next to you.
“What do you mean? And who’s Burr?” You requested. He stretched out his arms.
Characters: sister!reader, brother!Dean, brother!Sam, Mary
Warnings: angst, swearing, blood
Word count: 2225
Summary: when you, your brothers and their mom are kidnapped by a demon, he says he wants to kill one of the Winchesters, but how will he determine who to choose?
The cold air hit your skin as you awoke. You couldn’t see a damn thing, the demon had thrown a bag over your head the second he knocked you out and dragged you to the old warehouse.
You moaned as he pulled it off, you noticed both of your brothers had been kidnapped too along with Mary. They gave you a quick look to make sure you were ok and you looked back at all of them and checked over them for any injuries. You were sat around in a square, all tied to chairs.
Today, 19 May, we remember the 900,000 Pontian Greeks slaughtered by the Turks. We remember the death marches and executions they endured. To this day Turkey still fails to recognize the crimes they committed.
Today, June 18 2017, we had bid farewell to the physical embodiment of our Dark Overlord of Galactic Reaches, Azathoth
On this day his terran body became too small to hold his Everlasting Soul and with the help of his faithful, released its hold and allowed the Turmoiled Depths of Darkness, the Oppressive Void, The Ultimate Chaos, to return to the Darkest Starfields from whence he had come
His time among us was fleeting, but filled with torturous and wonderful moments that few experience and even fewer survive.
To have the Great Sultan of Darkness among us was an honor we will never forget.
You remained knelt in the bath behind Spencer until it was no longer just uncomfortable to kneel in the position you were in, but actually painful. When it started to hurt you released your grip on him and repositioned yourself, sitting on your bottom with your own knees drawn up. The tub wasn’t big enough for you to slot your legs at the side of him. Had you been in front, it might have been different.
Feeling you pull away he lifted his head and took in a few deep breath, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.
“Okay?” you asked, placing your hand on his shoulder. He reached up with his own hand, placing it on top of yours.
“I will be. Thank you for being here.”
“That’s what friends are for right… The others would have done the same for you if you’d have needed them. Although I can’t quite imagine Derek climbing into a bath tub with you but I’m sure he’d have given it a go.”
He gave a tiny laugh.
“I need to go to the funeral home tomorrow. Luckily, he pretty much planned his own funeral and had everything picked out already. It’s not like he had much else to do. I just need to sign some papers and see when they can do it.”
“Okay. I’ll need to let Hotch know how long I’m gonna be out for.”
He squeezed your hand on his shoulder.
“How long do you have off?” he asked.
“I dunno, I’ll stay for as long as I can without it seeming odd. See when the funeral is and I’ll take it from there.”
“Thank you. Again.”
“It’s nothing. I’m getting out now, my legs are cramping again and it feels odd being in a bath in my underwear. I’ll shower tomorrow morning, but I think I’m gonna climb into bed.”
“Okay. I’ll finish up and be out in a minute.”
You climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around you, discarding your sodden underwear on the floor in a corner and picking up the rest of the clothes you’d removed. You’d send them down to the laundry service you’d read the hotel offered.
Dressing in the shorts and tee-shirt you’d pulled from your bag, you climbed into bed and waited for Spencer.
He followed around ten minutes later, crawling in besides you in just a pair of boxers, his hair still damp from the tub.
Turning the lights off you lay in silence. Normally when you were lying together circumstance weren’t as sombre.
“You were right by the way,“ he said quietly, staring up at the ceiling.
“He received the letter I wrote, by fed ex, yesterday afternoon. He passed during the night. The nurses said he had the letter next to him on the bed when they found him.”
“Don’t say I told you so. Please.”
“As if I would. Not about this anyway. You did the right thing. ”
“Yeah… The right thing.”
You rolled over and snuggled next to him, laying your head on his chest and feeling the warmth from him, thinking how intimate this actually was. It seemed far more intimate cuddling with him than actually having sex with him did. His arm snaked around your body, pulling you closer and you heard his breathing start to even out.
The next few days were emotional. You accompanied Spencer to the funeral directors and to the various other places he needed to visit.
The funeral was to be held on Tuesday, which gave you a few days to sort out the minor details. William Reid had wanted a burial and it gave just enough time for the plot to be prepared and to get word around to his work colleagues. Spencer had very little family on his dad’s side, William had been an only child and his paternal grandparents had both passed years ago. However he was well liked at his work, and the company had given permission for the majority of his colleagues to attend the funeral. There wasn’t going to be a service afterwards. To be able to get the funeral at such short notice, you’d had to accept an afternoon burial, the last one of the day. It was to start at 3pm.
The funeral director had asked Spencer if he wanted to perform any readings or to write a eulogy. Spencer had flatly refused.
“I didn’t know my father well enough to be able to eulogise him,” he’d told the man, numbly.
“I’m sure we can find someone to do it. Perhaps one of his work friends,” you’d said.
In the end Diana had offered to write it. She knew him the best, after all she’d been his wife and carried his child into the world.
Your biggest worry, which you kept to a yourself, was would she be well enough to actually attend the service to read what she’d written. She was stable currently, but this was taking its toll on her emotions. Her nurses had told Spencer that she hadn’t been sleeping well these last few nights. Stress could aggravate her condition and if his mom couldn’t go, you seriously doubted Reid would go.
Hotch had given you permission to stay until Wednesday, needing you back in work on Thursday at the latest. Spencer would be allowed to remain as it was his direct parent but technically, you had no real reason to be there. Hotch was gracefully allowing you to support your friend because the team cared so very much about him. A huge bouquet of flowers and a card had arrived at his mom’s hospital over the weekend from the BAU, and when Spencer actually remembered to check his cell, he had messages of support from them all.
You spent a lot of time with Diana over the weekend and on Monday, whenever you weren’t running errands with Spencer, you were both in his mom’s home. Sometimes you all talked, other times you played cards, both Diana and Spencer being impressive card players. Well, they were from Vegas you supposed.
Diana still had her suspicions about the two of you, you could tell by the way she watched your interactions, the flick of her eyes everytime one of you touched the other or the slight smile whenever you called him ‘Spence’.
You couldn’t blame her for wondering. Yes other friends would have supported him, but how many of them would be doing it from the same hotel room, sharing the same bed night after night. Nothing had happened whilst you were here. It wasn’t the right time or place and neither of you were in the right frame of mind to be playing. Instead, once you’d gotten back to the room at night, you watch TV or read a book that you’d picked up at the local mall where you’d made him take you so you could find an appropriate dress to wear as well as some other items, forcing him to buy a suit to wear as well. Being ‘there’ for someone who didn’t know how to feel about the loss of his father was emotionally draining. One minute he seemed okay, the next he was angry, spouting off about how his dad had abandoned him and his mom, and that he didn’t know why his mom was so upset over his death. Then he’d be sad, berating himself for not going to see him again and making amends. He hadn’t sobbed again since the first day, at most a few tears had left his eyes. You almost wished he would cry properly, and let it all out. But that didn’t seem to be his way.
He’d lashed out at his mom a few times too, his tongue bitterer than you’d ever heard him before. Whenever he did that, he always left her room, you staying with her to make sure she was okay. When he came back, he’d always be full of remorse and apologies, the older woman telling him not to worry, that she understood. Because she did, her mind was almost as brilliant as his.
The day of the funeral came, Spencer spending most of the morning extremely quiet. You doubled checked the arrangements were all in place in the morning, before dressing and meeting with his mom at her hospital to accompany her to the church. An aide was coming with her, just in case.
The church ceremony itself was short, there were no more than thirty people in attendance most of whom had come from William Reid’s work. There were a few neighbours and friends, but it appeared that he mostly kept himself to himself after he’d abandoned his family.
A short reading had been given by William’s closest friend, a man called Peter who lived in the same apartment building as him and another had been provided by his employer.
Then it became time for Diana’s. She stood there at the podium reading out loud and clear, looking her son in the eyes as she spoke the words she’d written to eluogise her dead ex husband.
“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.
William and I have certainly had a rocky past, but today: we aren’t going to focus on that. I would like to tell you all a story about him. When William and I were first married, he decided that we were going to go on a romantic picnic. We drove for a long time, to get to a place that William told me was special to him. When we finally arrived, and had trekked up to the top of a hill. William told me a story of how he came to this spot as a child, and I enjoyed the serene peace up on the hill. We talked, and laughed, telling stories. We didn’t even realise that half of our picnic had blown down the hill and was being devoured by a family of ducks! The sight of the ducks eating the picnic William had made had us both in fits of laughter. It was a very mundane moment, sitting on a rug and laughing over ducks: but that is how I’d like to remember him. As the man who found it hilarious that the ducks were eating our food, yet he made sure we drove to a local diner to make sure we still got to enjoy our wonderful meal. It was a day filled with loving memories that I’m certain I will never forget. We may have been separated for longer than we were together now, but I won’t ever forget this man. He gave me the best gift I could have ever wished for, he gave me my son, and I will be forever grateful to him for that.”
As everyone made their way outside and over to the grave for the burial, people kept stopping Spencer and telling him how proud his dad was of him, how he kept a photo of him on his desk at work, and how whenever Spencer’s name was mentioned in an article or an essay he’d written was published, William would bring in the clippings to show off. They’d then move on to his mom, offering her their condolences even though they’d been separated for twenty two years.
You could feel the anger starting to build up in Spencer, his fists balling up. To an onlooker it would appear that he was upset by the death of his father, a man he loved.
You knew different. He was upset by having to be here to mourn the death of a man he didn’t feel deserved to be called a father. And these people who clearly meant well, were grating on him something rotten.
You wanted to tell him to calm down, but you knew it would make him worse. Instead you slipped your hand into his, stroking it with your thumb in what you hoped was a calming measure.
Reaching the graveside, he stood next to his mother. Where you’d expected him to comfort her, he didn’t, keeping his arms by his side instead.
His mother was crying quietly, a sight that broke your own heart. The aide was comforting her, a job her son should have been doing. Instead, he just looked irritated at her tears.
The coffin was staring to be lowered and Spencer began to shake his head as his mother’s crying intensified. It was painful watching him not going to her when she needed him so badly. But you didn’t dare say anything to him.
Finally, he pulled his hand out of yours, turning on his heel and walking off. The coffin was barely in the ground and the rest of the procession looked after him, assuming he’d stalked off because he was upset.
His mom watched him go, her mouth open in shock and you were torn between going after him and doing the job that he should be doing and looking after his mom.
You moved to her side instead, not quite touching her but standing close enough so that she could reach out if she needed too.
“Go,” she whispered through her tears. “You’re here for him not me. It’s nearly over here anyway.”
That was all you needed and you quickly followed his footsteps, finding him pacing in the parking lot.
“What the actual fuck Reid?”
“I couldn’t take it anymore. She shouldn’t be crying over him. He left her, he abandoned her, he abandoned me, when we needed him the most. And she’s sobbing like she’s lost the love of her life. And all those people… ” He was seething. “All those people talking about how proud he was of me, like he had anything to do with my achievements. I can’t… I can’t be here. I need the car keys, I want to go back to the hotel.”
“Spencer! You can’t. You need to help your mom.”
“Y/N, please…. I can’t be here. I’ll cause a bigger scene that I already am. Keys. Now please.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. I need you to look after her. Please. She likes you, a lot. I know this is more than I deserve right now, and I know you think I’m being horrible but I need to get out of here. Will you please make sure she’s okay and tell her I’m sorry.” He shoved his hands through his hair, a man ready to break down again.
You rummaged in your purse and pulled out the keys to your hire car, handing them to him.
“Thank you.” With that, he turned and walked away, getting into the car and driving off.
He’d left you here, he’d actually walked out on his own father’s funeral and left you with his mom.
While it’s obvious that most Western radical feminists, the ones who base their ideology on outdated conceptualizations of gender and biological sex and who formulate their ideas based on second-wave feminism, are white, not all of them are white. (I’m not talking about women of color who were/are radical-identifying in the sense that they were/are socialists and anti-imperialists but rather feminists who integrate a “radical” analysis of gender into their feminism - the two are different, considering that the latter group does not necessarily identify with marxist/materialist feminism whereas the former group does). And as cis wlwoc, it’s our job to root out transmisogynistic wlwoc in our spaces. They do exist and pretending that only white wlw can be transmisogynistic is dangerous because it ignores that transmisogyny in our spaces and communities is just as virulent and just as violent. Of course more white women identify with transmisogynistic radical feminism, since transmisogynistic radical feminists have always aligned themselves with reactionary movements and ideologies including “pro-white” conservative groups (and white women are more likely to weaponize and victimize their identities and go for individualist rather than collective politics), but the point remains that there are also plenty of cis wlwoc who are transmisogynistic radical feminists (or transmisogynistic but may not identify as “radical” feminists).
We can never forget that trans women of color bear the brunt of multiple violences - transphobia, misogyny, and racism. We need to center trans women of color in our activism and actively combat transmisogyny in woc and wlwoc groups. Pretending that transmisogyny is a problem exclusive to white women or cishet liberal feminists is selfish and disingenuous. There is a difference between analyzing how all women of color are susceptible to gendered violence (for example, how slave owners and colonialists/imperialists masculinized women of color to enact brutality against them) regardless of whether they identify as cis or trans (and how this same phenomenon doesn’t typically apply to white women, regardless of how they identify), and falling in line with radfem/transmisogynistic ideologies as a way to explain or combat this phenomenon. Again, the gender binary, colonial and racial in its imposition, targets all women of color no matter how they identify (as in, cishet women of color ARE violently impacted by it contrary to popular opinion), and it’s definitely important to point that out to white LGBT people who think that it only impacts them, but this does not mean that you should turn to transmisogyny as a way to conceptualize this to yourself.
Let us all do better for the trans women of color in our communities!
Four Seasons. We got four seasons of “maybe one day”. This ship, was one of my 1st, definitely the one that I was a hardcore shipper on. Heck, my old username on here said how much I loved them. Their banter from season one will always be my favorite. All the undercover operations each of their own definitely need to be remembered. The kiss from 2x11? Yeah I screamed… And cried. And may we never forget “S, P, A or G?” There are so many things that I could mention. The little looks, the constant flirtation and then something happened when Season Three came around and the characters became someone different, and not the couple I shipped. But regardless, this ship will always be a favorite and I just want to say Thank You to Jesse and Sophia for Four seasons of Linstead ❤ This couple is the reason I became a writer, the countless hours I spent writing fan fiction and stressing out or coming up with new ideas will always hold meaning. I’m sorry Linstead. I’m sorry you became a casualty because of the writers but you will always have a place in this fangirls heart.