were they using it ironically

theotherarmorer  asked:

Let me get this straight. You don't see an issue in using violence to counter an opposing viewpoint. You advocate people concealing their identities during your protests. And it's all deemed acceptable because you name your opposition fascists.

The only sentence you got right was “let me get this straight.”  Oh, wait, you didn’t use a colon to end that sentence, so that one wasn’t right, either!

1) Advocating for and organizing for racist genocide isn’t an “opposing viewpoint.”  It’s not even a valid opinion.  It’s a historically & scientifically-discredited belief that is common to the beginning of every genocide in human history.  

2) We don’t advocate for people concealing their identities during protests.  We advocate for people to take reasonable precautions to protect themselves and their families, which for some people includes concealing their identities. This is because we’re countering fascists - people whose belief system tells them that violence is the preferred way to do politics.  Otherwise, we know fascists will dox, harass, threaten, and murder us.  Just today, a 16-year-old Girl Scout who stood with an anti-racist banner has had to seek police protection because of the death/rape threats she’s received from the fascists she stood up to.

We’d be willing to bet cash money that you have never, ever written to the KKK to criticize them on the same point.  You’ll give an actual terrorist group that’s murdered thousands a free pass for concealing their identity, yet you get all apoplectic when people opposing violent, racist scum conceal their identities.   

3)  Yeah, it’s acceptable to oppose and confront fascists and fascism by any means necessary, because that’s what it takes to keep our communities safe.  We’ve have nearly a century of evidence to show what happens when you don’t oppose fascists.   

You know, theotherarmorer, it’s fucking hilarious that you’re writing to us on Victory Day - the day we mark the military victory over fascism in WW2.  Maybe you’ve heard about that war?  The fascist war that claimed the lives of over 50 million people?  This is the day you decide to claim that using violence to stop fascism isn’t acceptable?  Were you trying to be ironic or did you just get lucky with the date today?

If you think that fascism = “an opposing viewpoint” and shouldn’t be met with violence, go pick on some WW2 vets. Or Holocaust survivors.

A Ranger’s Arsenal: Arrowheads

The pointy end of an Arrow is the most functional part!

The Arrowhead plays the largest role in determining an Arrow’s purpose…

Some arrows may simply use a sharpened tip of the solid shaft, but it is far more common for separate arrowheads to be made, usually from metal, horn, or some other materials…

Arrowheads are usually separated by function:

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The Other Woman

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2508

Everybody knows the timeless, clichéd love story of two best friends who promised to stay best friends for the rest of their lives. But when one friend develops feelings for the other, of course the other is already in a relationship and the friend is forced to watch and endure the other love and cherish someone that isn’t them.

Usually, the other’s partner seems jealous and arrogant to the friend, leading them to wonder why the other chose them in the first place. But destiny is kind and rewarding, and soon the other realises his love for the friend, ultimately leaving his jealous, arrogant partner behind. The two best friends become lovers and live happily ever after. Sounds perfect, right? But it’s not. Everyone always overlooks the one person who suffers the most.

The day you met Minah, you knew your relationship with Jongdae would inevitably turn into this same clichéd love story. Unfortunately, you were on the losing end of the bargain.

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Devine (Part Two)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language

Summary: As a young child you came in contact with an entity. It possessed your body and gave you unthinkable powers. You managed to keep your power hidden for the most of your life, but one day everything goes wrong and you get on the radar of The Avengers.

Word Count: 1.281

Originally posted by the-frosted-soldier

Your golden energy beams flew everywhere as you fought of the men attacking you. One pounced on you and you were tackled to the ground. Your head hit the pavement with a smack and your vision got blurry for a second.

You placed your hands on the man’s chest and the black marks on your hands lit up gold. Seconds later the man shot off of you with two burn marks on his chest.

You got off the ground and waited for the next one to attack you.

One man attempted to punch you, but you kicked him in the gut and he stumbled backwards. You shot an energy beam at him and he flew back.

Another man pounced on you and you managed to block his attack. You punched him square in the jaw and his head flew to the side. You shot him away with your energy beam.

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Kunoichi weapons 


The Neko-te were usually used by the kunoichi (female ninja).

The weapon is strong iron fingernails that were fastened into leather bands fitted on the fingers, and resembled claws (not like that of of the shuko, ashiko) and were also dipped in poisons. The eyes were a favorite spot for slashing.


The Kakute were rings that the kunoichi wore that were dipped in poison. The rings could be made out of metals, and tempered wood.

The ninja would quietly strangle enemies with the ring stuck in their neck. It was far less messy then using a sword, and left very little evidence on how the victim died.

In Stereo (Part 1)

“Draco,” an almost hesitant knock came at his door.

“Come in,” Draco’s voice sounded unnaturally low and scratchy in contrast to his mother’s smooth tones.

The ornate oak clicked open softly and he was greeted with the image of a teary-eyed Narcissa, who was so obviously trying to pull herself together for the sake of her son. Draco pushed his covers back and stood up, summoning all of the shrapnels of dignity he had left and using them to build the illusion of a strong exterior

“Mother,“ Draco whispered.

That was all it took. Narcissa was across the room in a second. She took Draco in her arms and, although he was bigger than her now, squeezed him as though she could shrink him small enough to fit in her pocket. Hide him away from what few dreadful things he had yet been forced to face.

Draco felt his mother start to draw back and fought to suppress a whimper. He studied her face and watched as she composed her strong, aristocratic features into the usual Malfoy mask that occupied them.

Draco reached a pale hand up and wiped a stray tear from his mother’s face.

“I’m okay,” he assured her. Or maybe he was assuring himself. Or maybe he was assuring both of them. Draco didn’t believe it, and he doubted his mother did either.

She didn’t answer, but nodded her head and set her lips in a grim line.

Narcissa fussed with her son’s fair hair and Draco frowned but made no move to stop her. “You’re wanted in your father’s study within the hour.”

Draco sucked in a breath of air and nodded his head in a single jerky motion.

Everyone communicated in nods and vague hand gestures lately. It was almost as though they were scared of using their voices too much. Which was oddly ironic, considering how they had all ended up here. Voicing opinions no one else wanted.

His mother exited the room and Draco - with a shaky exhale - made his way to the bathroom that was connected to his spacious bedroom. He stripped down with only a few seconds hesitation, still uneasy after an unfortunate incident with the wolf, Fenrir Greyback. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had called the obscenely large werewolf into some sort of emergency meeting before Draco had seriously injured him. Or been seriously injured.

As he showered, he wondered idly if this was how the Gryffindors had felt back in third year when Sirius Black had been on the loose. Nervous in their own house because of a lunatic hunting down the Chosen One. Hunting down Potter.

It was with a heavy heart that Draco stepped out of the shower and dressed. Nothing too fancy, this could hardly be considered a special occasion.

Draco wasn’t stupid, he was well aware of the reasoning behind his requested presence.

Requested. Draco scoffed ever so slightly at the word. As if he had a choice. If he didn’t show, he - and his mother - would be killed.

If he did show… he’d be punished. For his failure, and his father’s.


Deep breath. Sharp exhale. Draco put his hand on the doorknob to his father’s study. His eyes slid shut as he braced himself to open the door and face whatever was waiting for him on the other side.

Draco felt a delicate hand rest on his left shoulder lightly and he turned his head to meet his mother’s blue eyes. They held love and hints of reassurance, but Narcissa’s eyes had always been a direct window to her emotions, a trait she had unwillingly passed along to her son, and now they held barely concealed fear. Fear for the fate of the son she had raised. Fear for the boy who had no choice.

“Do you know-” Draco was cut off by the hesitant yet rough shaking of his mother’s head.

Grey eyes met blue one last time before Draco opened the door to his father’s study and stepped inside.

The tense atmosphere in the room prickled at Draco’s skin. His father refused to even look in Draco’s direction from his place in a chair in the edge of the room. On the flip side, his Auntie Bella looked positively ecstatic, smiling maniacally as the occasional giggle - which sounded suspiciously like a cackle - escaped her thin lips.

Lord Voldemort sat at the wooden desk in the centre of the room, stiffly perched in the same chair Draco’s father had sat in so many times before. There was something malicious glistening in his eyes. Though, that could just be one of the side effects of having red eyes. (Seriously, what muggle movie villain must the Dark Lord have based himself off of?)

The Dark Lord had always been intimidating but something was different this time.

“My Lord,” Draco regarded his master with a dip of his head.

“Draco,” The Dark Lord stood leisurely and a cold, cruel grin stretched across his white face as his snake, Nagini, slithered about near the bottoms of his robe. “You are to accompany us to Hogwarts, we have some… business to attend to.”

Draco had to restrain himself from furrowing his brow in confusion. (He could hear Pansy chastise him in his head, “Really, Draco, darling, that causes premature wrinkles,”).

“Yes, my Lord.”


Snow covered the Hogwarts grounds in a pillowy blanket. It seemed the sky, too, would have liked to cover the horrors that this war had conceived.

Draco walked behind his aunt and father, who were following the Dark Lord into the school. The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.

Familiar grey stone pillars towered around them as they entered the school. Every student in the vicinity - which wasn’t many, considering almost all of the students were already in the great hall - turned to glance in their direction before quickly looking away and flicking their eyes elsewhere, either at their shoes or towards the ceiling.

Draco watched silently as the doors to the great hall opened to accept their little group.

A hush fell over the already nearly quiet hall. Draco couldn’t think back to a time when the students had been this contained, not even after the death of Cedric Diggory, and it added to the ache he’d been feeling in his very soul since he had been marked a Death Eater, and therefore sealed his fate.

The Dark Lord stood at the front of the great hall, facing out towards the expanse of students.

“It has been brought to my attention that there are some,” the Dark Lord drawled and it made Draco regret ever using a similar tone, “who still resist my rule at this school.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes were skirting around the room - taking a particularly long look at Gryffindor table, Draco noted - before landing on Draco, himself.

A cruel smile stretched across his face and a shark’s mouth of teeth were put on display. “This will not be tolerated,” His words remained as calm and calculated as ever, but there were heavy notes of underlying anger in them that Draco only knew how to detect because the man (if he could even be called that) had been living in his house.

“And while I am unsure of what has given these students the false impression that Harry Potter is coming to save them,” He raised his arms up and glared cruelly out towards their audience, “No matter, I am here to right old wrongs, and give punishment to those who deserve it.”

Draco forced himself to stay still in his position between his Aunt Bellatrix and his father, Lucius. He was still confused as to why he, of all people, was asked to come along. He was also confused as to what they were doing here in the first place. Were they simply here to taunt the students with the hopelessness of their situation? No, he said he was here to ‘right old wrongs’ and to ‘give punishment’. Draco’s stomach flipped sickly as he realized the implications of what was happening.

This was his punishment.

Draco was no fool. He knew this was only the beginning. The Dark Lord surely had more planned than to force Draco to stand in front of his former peers and watch as he mocked them, like a petty schoolboy did a crush. Surely, there was more to come.

Sudden commotion dragged Draco out of his thoughts. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of uproar, and of course, it came from Gryffindor table. Specifically, from a certain boy known as Neville and a certain girl known as Ginny.

So, Potter’s sometimes-sidekick and his little girlfriend. Great.

“Harry is coming to save us you snake-faced bastard!” Longbottom burst out.

Girl Weasley stood next to him in a show of support, before yelling out, “Harry’s more of a leader than you could ever hope to be!”

The Dark Lord surveyed them with a front of amusement but there was a certain amount of malice shining in eyes. “Bellatrix, restrain them.”

“With pleasure, My Lord,” His Aunt smiled in that extra disturbing way of hers. She aimed a Petrificus Totalus at Longbottom and before the Weaselette could protest she was hit with one as well.

Alecto and Amycus Carrow were at the scene within seconds, where they exchanged grins and levitated the two defiant teenagers out of the great hall. Bellatrix skipped merrily behind them, humming a tune and laughing to herself occasionally. Draco grimaced in sympathy.

“Lucius,” The Dark Lord’s high, cold voice echoed in the suddenly silent again hall. “The boy.”

Alarms rang in Draco’s head as a heavy sense of foreboding fell upon him. His palms had started to sweat and he was fighting the urge to run.

Large hands that belonged to Draco’s father gripped his wrists and Draco could feel waves of confusion rolling around inside the hall.

The telltale static of a radio being turned on filled the room. Merlin, they were broadcasting this?

“Now,” The Dark Lord said, “You know what you’ve done.”

Draco’s heartbeat increased tenfold. He was trying to control his breathing as he risked a glance toward the tables.

His gaze landed first on Pansy. She looked terribly frightened as Blaise kept one hand on her arm, a look of set determination on his face. When he met Pansy’s eyes the look on her face shifted into defiance. But her eyes, her eyes held a question.

‘Should we help?’

Draco managed a small and subtle shake of his head and watched as tears filled her eyes. But Draco did not miss the slight flashing of relief. Pansy’s Slytherin self-preservation was still a strong part of her.

Good, Draco thought, Maybe she’ll make it through the War.

He directed a look at Blaise and knew he understood it perfectly as his shoulders slumped the smallest bit, his chin staying high in the air while he comforted Pansy.

Draco took a deep breath and turned his head to face the Dark Lord, who had used the time Draco had taken to watch his friends to speak of his greatness. Speak of how no one could disobey the Dark Lord and get away with it.

The task must be completed, no matter the consequences or difficulty.

Draco remembered those words from when he had first been given his assignment. An impossible task.

The Dark Lord stared directly at Draco as his long, white fingers curled around his wand. He whipped the wand up and pointed it at Draco.

Draco felt the grip of his father’s hands intensify in their place of holding Draco’s wrists behind his back.

Draco knew he should stare the Dark Lord down as he was punished. Knew he should exert some form of bravery. A way of showing he was not scared. But he was. He was so scared.

And although Draco knew he should do all of this, he also knew he wouldn’t. Because those were all the kinds of things a Gryffindor like Potter would do. And Draco was not a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin through and through.

So Draco shut his eyes.


Huge thanks to @ferret-face for being my wonderful beta, @bigjellymonster for being the best Angst Lord™ anyone could ask for, and to @fairydrarry for just being an overall amazing wife.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11153835/chapters/24888843

A security guard walking down US Highway 101 where there are towering stacks of hollow iron floats from which the iron antisubmarine nets were suspended to protect the US ports during the last war, by Hank Walker, 1953


1982. The Number of the Beast

is the third album by legendary band Iron Maiden, released in March. It saw the debut of vocalist Bruce Dickinson, and the final appearance of drummer Clive Burr. The Number of the Beast met with considerable critical and commercial success and was a landmark release for the band,  The album was also controversial – particularly in the US – due to the religious nature of its lyrics and its artwork.

was the band’s first album to feature writing by guitarist Adrian Smith. In addition, the release saw Steve Harris adopt a different approach to writing, which would cater more for new vocalist Bruce Dickinson. The album’s producer, Martin Birch, remarked, “I simply didn’t think [former vocalist Paul Di'Anno] was capable of handling lead vocals on some of the quite complicated directions I knew Steve wanted to explore… when Bruce joined, it opened up the possibilities for the new album tremendously.

According to several interviews, Dickinson was heavily involved in writing several of the album’s songs, and in particular the tracks "Children of the Damned”, “The Prisoner” and “Run to the Hills”. Due to his previous band Samson’s ongoing contractual issues, Dickinson could not legally take part in any songwriting for the record, and had to make what he called a “moral contribution”, which meant he was able to influence particular tracks, but not provide enough creative input so as to earn a writing credit. The recording and mixing of the album had to be completed in only five weeks, after the band had spent too long constructing the new songs.  This was because the group were for the first time creating a new album from scratch, with very little material written prior to the record’s pre-production stage.

The album was strongly opposed by social conservatives – especially in the US, where Iron Maiden were accused of being Satanists. Public burnings of the band’s catalogue were organised, although some religious groups smashed the records with hammers, for fear of inhaling fumes from burning vinyl. The Beast on the Road tour was subject to numerous boycotts and demonstrations: venues were sometimes surrounded by activists who handed out leaflets and, in one case, a 25-foot cross was carried in protest. Harris has stated, “It was mad. They completely got the wrong end of the stick. They obviously hadn’t read the lyrics. They just wanted to believe all that rubbish about us being Satanists.

The cover was originally created for the song "Purgatory”, but Rod Smallwood deemed it of too high a calibre for a single release and decided to save it for The Number of the Beast album instead. The original 1982 artwork includes a blue sky in the background; this was a mistake by the printers of the album cover, and was later rectified and became black.

The Number of the Beast is a historical landmark, as it is where Iron Maiden first started on the path that would lead them to worldwide stardom, but it is a fucking great album all the way, too. It’s simple, it’s poppier than the previous albums, but it’s a well written, tight collection of songs from a band bursting with youthful fire. Maiden on here showed the first signs of their expertise at crafting memorable, hook-laden and commercially successful work, and it’s a testament to exactly how good writers they were that these songs are still so universally memorable and loved.

this ‘Masterpiece’ without a word of exaggeration is the greatest heavy metal record of all time – one that continues to enthral now and will no doubt do so for decades to come.

Steve Harris     Bruce Dickinson    Dave Murray   Adrian Smith    Clive Burr

How Would You Rate The Quality Of Your Call? (Vernon Smut)

Summary: You and Vernon have a long-distance relationship, but always manage to keep it strong, mostly thanks to Skype. But one thing you never thought you could maintain over the internet was your sex life. Smut. 

(AN: So here is the long-awaited Vernon skype smut; the one that you guys made it clear that you wanted. I hope it’s not a piece of shit?? Obviously smut warning and general warning for Vernon being a sexy piece of shit. Also normal svt antics ahead. -Tanisha<3)

Skype dates were a regular thing for you and your boyfriend, Vernon. Even though he lived on the other side of the world and the time zones constantly enjoyed screwing you both over, he always made time for you and you for him. If the two of you didn’t Skype at least once a week, than something was likely terrible wrong. In fact, it was often so that you got to see his face (however pixilated and distorted) more than three times a week.

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Something just like this

Originally posted by caps-bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2193

Warnings: Angst, Smut!, Fluffy in the end

A/N: This oneshot is based on the song “Something Just like This” by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay. I love so much this song, it’s like a drug!

If you want be tagged in my stories, just ask me!
Feedback is always appreciated.

Will come back.
I take a deep breath, and in the meantime, I take the bottle of water, and I drink. By now, it’s been two weeks since Bucky left for a mission in Russia, along with Steve and Tony. I remained at the base of the Avengers, until my boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, not back. I hate staying at home alone; It reminds me every fucking minute that he’s not there, and the silence overwhelms me. So for now I sleep in the room next to Natasha; At least I try. I miss Bucky. I miss my boyfriend. I miss his voice, his contagious laugh, his eyes staring at me, his soft and sweet lips on mine, his arms around my waist. It’s horrible to be so far away from him, and not having news of him.
I drain the anger and frustration pulling punches in punching bag, but doesn’t help much; I hear the gym door open, and enters Natasha smiling.
“Y/n, dinner is almost ready.”
“Thanks Nat.”
Without another word, Natasha comes out, and I remain alone again. I sigh; she and Sam are the fantastic friends, and in all this time that Bucky is not there, did everything they could to distract me; we went to the movies, to eat a pizza, at Luna Park. But they’re not my Bucky.
I return to my room, and after a quick shower, I go into the kitchen. Natasha and Sam are already there, sitting on the couch watching a movie; after greeting Sam, I sit down beside him, and I watch the film with them. Just when it’s late, I greet you both, and silently I go back in the room. This is my daily routine, for two long weeks.
I want my Bucky.

Will come back.
And another day began; after breakfast, Sam and I have made a run, and we bet about who was faster; when there is no Steve to run with him, Sam is always happy, because it’s easier to win for him.
When we returned to base, I’m back in the gym, and I started to give again to punch the punching bag; it’s the only thing that calms me. After a while I stop and support the forehead of the punching bag, and I close my eyes; Bucky is my life, since I was back to being himself. The first time I met him, he was still the Winter Soldier, and I have done nothing but fight him; he was strong, and he put me to the mat in a few moves. At that moment I thought that I hated him. I am a proud person, and I hate to lose; in spite of everything, I felt a shiver when our eyes met. I didn’t pay much attention, but when Bucky is back to being.. Bucky, everything changed.
He’s fantastic, sweet, and kind, and even broken. And since we attend us, he makes me feel alive. For him it wasn’t easy to get back to ‘normal’ life, what the HYDRA did to him.. after all this time, sometimes he wakes up at night, because of a nightmare, and I try to comfort the more likely. I am still absorbed in my thoughts, when I hear the door open; without looking, I sigh.
“Yeah, Nat. Lunch is ready. ”
“Can I be your food?”
I open my eyes when I hear his voice; I quickly turn to the door to be sure I recogniz the voice of my boyfriend, or if it’s just a dream; but he’s there. Bucky, in his combat uniform, half dirt, but all his glory. Instinctively, I run towards him, and in a few seconds I throw myself into his arms, my legs around his waist. We remain silent for a while, enjoying this intimate moment between us; I inhale his scent, I brush his skin with the fingers.
“I missed you so much.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I blush, and having stretched the legs and resting my feet on the ground, I look in his eyes.
Bucky smiles, and laying his hands cupped my cheeks, he grabs my lips with his, and pulls me to his chest. How much he missed me..
I try to deepen the kiss, but then I remember that we are in the gym, and that someone can come suddenly.
“I missed you too.” he says when we move away, his arms still around my waist.
“When did you come back?”
“I have just returned. Natasha had told me you were here, and then I’m over here right away.”
I smile. He tries to get close, but jokingly I run him by me.
“Calm down, big boy. You need a shower, and long. ”
He laughs; I’m so happy that he is here with me, and his laugh is so contagious, that I begin laughing too.
“Why are you crying?” he suddenly asked; I frown, and I touch my face with the hand. I feel it’s wet, and I smile.
“I’m just glad you’re here.”
Bucky pulls me to him, and kisses my forehead.
“How about if we go back to our home?” he asks me as grazes my ear with his lips, making me shiver, “Take a shower, we have dinner, and we’re together.”
I swallow hard when I hear the last words; now that he’s finally back, I want him all to myself.
“Let’s go back to our home.”

After entering the house, me and Bucky we head both in the bathroom. I open the valve of the tap, and while the tub fills with hot water, I undress. I remain alone with the bra and panties, and suddenly I feel the Bucky’s eyes fixed on me. I smile, and satisfied with the effect that I do to him, I glance over my shoulder.
“Like what you see, James?”
I call him by his first name, knowing what causes in him when he hears my voice say it; he’s approaching menacingly at me, his hands touching my hips, and I feel a shiver along my spine when his metal fingers brush my bare skin. My back touch his bare chest, and Bucky leaves wet kisses in the hollow of my neck.
“After all this time, hell, of course I like it, doll.”
I turn to him, and I wrap my arms around his neck, I brush his lips, and I shrink, trying to provoke him.
“Will you do me the honour, James, to take my clothes off?”
“I’m the one just returned from a mission. You should undress me. ”
I bite my lip, and not make me say it twice, I lower the zipper of his pants, and I lower them along with the boxer; he does the same with me, and when we are both naked, we enter into the tub, facing each other. We relax both in contact with the hot water, that loosens our tense muscles. I look at Bucky, and only now I notice a tinge of sadness in his face; I was so glad to see him again, I didn’t ask him how was your mission. When I ask him, with a sad look tries to divert the issue. If he doesn’t want to talk, it means that something went wrong. I get close to him, and sat down on his legs, I obliged him to look at me.
“What’s wrong, Buck?”
He swallows, and then look at me; he touches my cheek with his metal arm, and a sad smile appears on his face.
“Why me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Why did you choose me? Why are you with me? ”
I remain surprised by his words; I thought he knew why I’m with him. We talked about it a lot of times.
“Because I love you, Bucky.”
“Are you sure?”
I feel the tears fill my eyes, and I am speechless. Why he thinks I don’t love him?
“Bucky what happened during the mission?”
Bucky continues to look helpless, and after a while he sighs, and looks down.
“We saved the civilians by.. a bomb, I think. And when at last they were safe, people have approached us to thank us. They were so happy to see Captain America and Iron Man. But when they saw me.. I think they were afraid. I know it’s a stupid thing, but.. I’m not a hero, Y/n. Steve and Tony are. I’m just a horrible experiment, which kill.. ”
Bucky doesn’t finish the sentence because of me. My lips are placed on his, and I kiss him hard; my tongue makes contact with his, and my teeth biting his bottom lip, making him moan. I feel his erection touching my leg, but I try not to pay attention; I just want him to understand that I didn’t need a hero.

I’m not looking for somebody
With some superhuman gifts
Some superhero
Some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to
Somebody I can kiss

We finish the kiss, but my lips brush even those of Bucky, while his arms leaning on my waist. I look into his eyes, trying not to cry.
“Those people are idiots, they don’t know what they missed. If they got to you, they would know that you are a wonderful, sweet, kind, and selfless. I love you, Bucky.”
“I was a monster before.” Bucky says, the trembling voice. Tears streaming down his face, and I push off with the thumbs. I put my lips on his again, then on the cheeks, then on the eyes, then on the forehead; I wrap my arms around his neck and I hug him.
“It wasn’t your fault. You were under the control of HYDRA, but now you are free. You have your life again, you have your best friend, and other friends who love you. You have me. I don’t need a superhero.”

I’m not looking for somebody
With some superhuman gifts
Some superhero
Some fairytale bliss
Just something I can turn to
Somebody I can miss

The Bucky’s metal arm is laying on my back, massaging it up and down.
My eyes met his, and he slings on my lips, and kisses me. I put my hands cupped over his face, and I closer and closer to me; my body in contact with his drives me crazy, and makes the same effect on Bucky. He begins to torture the hollow’s neck, then the collarbone, up to fall on my breasts; he leaves me deep marks, making me moan. His erection pushes more towards me, and I just want to feel him inside of me, to make him feel how much I love him.
“I know doll, I know..”
Bucky pushes me away from him on the other side of the tub, and ranks on me; our movements they drop the water on the floor, but none of us matter at this time. My hands are on his shoulders, while he brushes my entry without preamble, and in a moment his cock inside me. I yell, while Bucky fills me more and more; he begins to push, and I cling closer to him, my legs around his waist. Our skin slamming against each other, and the water that moves around our bodies, it causes weird sounds.
“I love you, Y/n.”
My eyes met his, and Bucky pushes more and more inside of me. I arch my back, and I try to still get closer to him.
“I love you too, Bucky. I love you so much.. ”
It’s true. I love him. Despite the things that he did, in spite of the horrors he lived, I love him. I feel my body tremble, and then I come, continuing to repeat his name, and that I love him. Bucky groans, and with one final push he comes too. I don’t care if for the others he’s not a superhero; I don’t love the Winter Soldier. I love Bucky Barnes.

Oh I want something just like this
Oh I want something just like this

After our intimate moment, and putting in order the bathroom, me and Bucky we put in the kitchen to cook something. We laughed and joked, and almost burned the kitchen. Now we’re both lying on the couch, me in his arms, with the TV on. Bucky caresses my hair, and suddenly I feel him smile.
“You know you’re beautiful with this shirt on?”
I smile, realizing that the shirt is talking about is his. I lifted my face to look at him, and my eyes meet his.
“I have to thank the owner of the shirt.”
His lips brush my temple, and I feel a shiver down my spine; it always happens when he touches me.
“Now you know.” I say suddenly, losing myself in his grey eyes. He furrows his eyebrows, not understanding what I’m talking about.
“That I’m with you for who you are, not for what you do.”
“I love you, Y/n.”
“And I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

Oh I want something just like this
Oh I want something just like this

Forever Tag:

Only Us (Part 2/2), Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: Reader owns a bookstore that Lin often frequents.

Words: 1,161

Author’s Note: Smut lite at the end (spoiler-y?) but yeah. I’m tired and I love Lin so here’s this thing. Part 3 is gonna be a bit angsty but that’s life, yo.

Warnings: Smut lite? Cursing.

Askbox | Masterlist | Part 1

Alright this is cool. You could be cool. Totally fucking cool.

You had been texting on and off for a bit, mostly just to catch up on a few things. You foolishly asked his relationship status and spent a week kicking yourself that you had come off desperate.

He, being the charming and ever-oblivious Lin that you remembered, enthusiastically replied that he was single and ready to mingle.

You were pretty sure no one had used that phrase un-ironically in years, but he loved to prove you wrong. The texting led to plans, the plans led to solidifying plans, and those solid plans led you to his front door step, a casserole dish in your hands.

You dug up your family’s sacred casserole recipe for this.

Balancing it carefully in one arm against your hip, you knocked quickly.

Shit. You really didn’t think this through. What were you going to greet him with? Was a ‘hello’ too casual? Do you hug him? Are you supposed to hug a Tony and Grammy winning artist?

“You made it!” He happily answered, the door swinging open the second your fist finished knocking.

You stood still for a second - maybe you could just bolt and try again another day. Like a video game, you had three lives to get it right.

“Casserole.” You presented him with the dish.

“And here I was thinking that was a cake.” He quipped, taking the dish from your hands and tilting his head, “Come on.”

With no other option but to follow (he did have a very secret casserole in his hands) you trekked behind him, closing and locking the door. No escape.

With the casserole reheating in his very nice oven - he opened a bottle of cheap wine. His taste hadn’t changed from high school, although back then he was chugging liters of various flavored Shasta.


“I know about you.” You blurted, eyes trained on your half-empty glass.

“That’s a weird and ominous thing to say.” 

It certainly was, but there was no going back now.

“I’ve probably walked by billboards with your face on them hundreds of times and I didn’t even know. Magazines and newspapers and-” You stopped, taking in his quirked eyebrow, “You rap about a dead white guy!”

You shoved your pointer finger in his direction, as if you were accusing him of a horrible crime.

“Guilty.” He shrugged, reaching for his glass.

“Don’t even get me started on the Tony award.” You cried, suddenly feeling very small in his vast New York home.

“Dude, you need to settle down.” His hand was on your knee and you could do anything but. You forced your babbling to cease, but your throat cried for another drink of wine.

It’s just-” You hesitate, all too aware of his hand still very much pressed against your knee, “-it’s bizarre. I went to high school with you!”

“High school was nearly twenty years ago.” He offered, as if that would provide you comfort.

“We haven’t seen each other in almost twenty years.” You mused.

“How did you ever survive?” He asked as his oven beeped. He sprang into action, serving the dish in a very friendly way that definitely didn’t say ‘Hey, it’s been twenty years, let’s bang.’

Except it totally did.

You tried to ignore the implications of the cheap wine and the dim lighting as knifes scraped against china plates. Everything was totally normal and completely platonic.

You remembered the feeling of his hand on your knee.

After dinner he led you to his study - which held practically as many books as your store did with a piano tucked into the corner. The view of the George Washington Bridge from a certain spot in that room reminded you of your forty-five minute bus rides to school.

You smiled fondly at the memories, wishing to God that you tried a little harder, wiggled a little deeper into his friend group. Maybe you’d be somewhere else - maybe your sacred casserole dish would belong to the both of you.

You shook the thought from your head and tried to focus on what he was saying - something about getting together on another day.

“Sure.” You answered, not positive as to what you were agreeing to.

“Great! You can look at your schedule-” You lost focus again, eyes trained on his moving hands as you sat next to him on his worn out couch.

You suddenly recalled a random article you picked out about him. The fluff pieces - you’ve come to find - always had a sweet few paragraphs about how sweet the celebrity is and what they ordered for lunch that day.

This one - a Times magazine article - focused on his likability. How he walked into a room or spoke to someone and suddenly everyone was smiling and laughing and completely infatuated with him.

He was like that in high school, completely charming and you couldn’t remember a time he had been without a girlfriend. 

Yet here he was, completely single and he wanted to spend his off day eating your stupid casserole and drinking cheap wine with you.

You could see where the Times was coming from.

“-and you’re totally not listening to me, are you?” His head tilted as he re-gained your attention, “I’m probably rambling. If you don’t stop me I will literally talk forever, so really just cut me off-”

You rushed forward before you could second guess yourself.

This guy who had once been a distant but permanent fixture in your life came stumbling back in and he was successful and smart and funny and everything you remembered him being and more. You hadn’t felt this excitement since college, freshly out of the tiny pond and thrown into the ocean.

Someone’s eyes would linger just a bit too long and you could picture your entire life with them before they turned away.

The kiss was quick and you certainly wanted to go back for more. You chanced a glance in his direction, the moon illuminating his figure from the window.

“When I pictured us kissing back in high school it was always me kissing you, not you kissing me.” He laughed, relaxing into his couch as he held his hand out to you.

Just glancing over him felt like you were hit by a truck. His dopey grin and long hair that he hadn’t stopped running his hands through all night. He was so god-damn kissable it made you angry.

You denied his hand and upped the ante, throwing your leg over his and settling into his lap.

He immediately sat up, attention gained, hands secure on your waist and a questioning look on his face.

“You pictured kissing me in high school?” You asked, which was quickly answered with a nod. “I pictured kissing you, too.” You admitted, “But I’m picturing something completely different now.”

“You are?” He gulped, grip on your waist tightening as you pressed further into him.

You smirked.

“I am.”

Concept: the Critical Role cast at Elsewhere University

Travis is secretly incredibly freaked out. So freaked out. But he somehow ended up befriending Jimothy so I guess there’s hope for him yet? (Also, we do not talk about the Fairy Cake Incident where he nearly accepted fae food…)

Laura is… worrisome. The Gentry do not particularly want to anger her. Do not anger Laura.

Taliesin is dumb enough to make deals with the Gentry and clever enough to avoid the worst of the consequences. He also feels… weirdly at home at Elsewhere U. Eventually he find out he’s got Unseelie blood running in his veins and honestly, that just explains everything. Also? He’s best friends with the crows.

The Gentry love Sam. He’s funny. Too funny for his own good, actually, as some have tried to Take him on various occasions. The others often have to save him from fae who get a little too attached to him. One time they lost him in the library and he somehow got back 7 hours later with a truly fabulous moustache and some weird talismans that are probably magic. Nobody knows what happened during these 7 hours except him and he won’t tell.

Ashley. Oh Ashley. The Gentry don’t dare bother her, because something is protecting her. Nobody quite knows what it is, except that it is otherworldly, but definitely not fae in origin. Ashley is the only one who can say “please”, “thank you” and “sorry” to the Gentry and not be forced into a deal.

Liam nearly got himself Taken about 32 times, not to mention all the terrible deals he very nearly made without realising it. Yet somehow he never actually suffered a single negative consequence, not even the few times he did strike a deal. Shit always just… almost happens to him but ultimately doesn’t. It’s like a superpower. The few deals he strikes always end up in his favor somehow and some of the Gentry just seem weirdly fond of him. Nobody gets it.

Marisha actually knows all the tricks in the book and has been known to turn deals around on unsuspecting fae. She only really settles them with negative consequemces if they were being terrible and trying to scam her though, not if they were just naive and inexperienced. She refuses to use iron, salt, rowan & co and asks the others to limit their use of these protections. Everyone’s confused. The Gentry eventually learn not to mess with her.

Matt is secretly Seelie Court Royalty and the reason Marisha insists on less salt & co. Why does he disguise himself as human? He felt like it. Nobody’s too surprised when they find out. After all, it’s Matt.

“Let Only Good Energy In” Horseshoe Ward Charm

(little squeal for the first spell I have to share with Tumblr. This and all future spells of mine will be posted in the Spells page of my blog)

The thought process behind this enchantment is adding wards to an object long thought to offer protection and good luck in and of itself.


  • a horseshoe
  • a doorway to hang the horseshoe over
  • your magical self!


  1. Think of the horseshoe as a cup, with the prongs being the mouth of the cup, kind of like a “U”
  2. Tip the horseshoe over so that the prongs are facing down and shake the horseshoe, making as if you’re pouring something out of a cup. Here, you’re pouring the old and negative energies out, the wards that need replacing
  3. Turning the horseshoe upright again, hold it tightly in both hands and close your eyes.
  4. Envision good energy and the fresh wards flooding into your mouth (for some reason, I see these particular wards as fish? In my mouth? Weird, I know ^^)
  5. Gently blow the good energy and fresh wards into the mouth of the horseshoe, as if you were filling a cup with liquid.
  6. Being careful not to tip the horseshoe in case the wards pour out, secure the horseshoe above or near a doorway to as a protection charm!


  • Horseshoes have long been thought to bring good luck to homes in which they’re hung. Eastern cultures were said to have hung them like crescents “C” and they offered protection against the Evil Eye. Back when they were made of iron, they were used as protection against malicious fae, evil spirits, and imps.


  • Refill these wards every couple of months. When you go to tip the old wards out, thank them for their protection as you release them from their enchantment.

Imagine going to Portugal and this being what you bring back with you. Not memories of the weather, the beauty, the food, the culture….but this.


I think if we had to pick a favorite place in Alaska so far it would be Seward. We have absolutely loved the time we have spent here. Seward is a main stop for the cruise ships which makes it busy during the day but also allows it to have more amenities then some of the smaller towns on the Kenai. We found some amazing places to camp off of the Exit Glacier road, Caleb even got to do a little river crossing to get to one one them. We spent celebs birthday out there, he got to skate because Seward has a skatepark, we showered and were able to do laundry. I made him homemade pizza pockets using our pie iron, they were good but this is a recipe we will be perfecting over time. We took our time here and enjoyed our morning to the fullest. We appreciate a town with a great view, a grocery store and a clean shower. We will be back.