#he literally watched you wear fine things well with me. he is cultured and educated

[gnomeantics]

my cat artie was sitting on my lap and he was purring for pretty much the entirety of episode 5. based

#i love him he is so correct #he literally watched you wear fine things well with me. he is cultured and educated #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #<- in the tags #gnomeantics original 🌟

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Favorite

For Suptober Day 23.

“Sam, I can’t just tell Cas how I feel! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? We are roommates and I can’t afford for Cas to leave because he doesn’t want to be around me,” Dean said, laying on his bed while talking to his brother.

“If Cas’ money is the only reason why you want him as a roommate, then maybe he should leave,” Sam replied.

“Ugh, of course that’s not the only reason why I like having Cas around! The dude might be my roommate but he’s also my best friend! I can’t risk telling Cas the truth and losing him. I don’t know what I’d do without Cas,” Dean exclaimed, annoyed that his brother would insinuate that he only liked Cas for his money.

“Woah, dude, calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you. Dean, you’ve been crushing on Cas for years and you still haven’t made a move. If you don’t, someone else will,” Sam pointed out.

Dean groaned. “You don’t think I don’t know that! Hell, Crowley, Balthazar, and Meg have all asked him out multiple times. Thankfully, he’s turned all of them down.”

“So, what happens when he finally says yes to somebody?” Sam asked.

Dean buried his face in his pillow and screamed. When he was done, he answered his brother’s question. “Get really jealous and probably give the person the stink eye anytime they are around Cas.”

Dean could practically see the bitch face he knew Sam was giving him. “Exactly, so why don’t you grow a pair and tell Cas how you feel!”

“I don’t even know what to tell him!”

“Why don’t you make a list of all the things you like about Cas. Pick out a couple and come up with a way to spend some together focused around those things. Then, maybe hint at the possibility of it being a date and see how Cas reacts,” Sam suggested.

Dean frowned. “Dude, that sounds so fucking girly!”

“Then keep pining like a lovesick teenager and don’t ask me for anymore help,” Sam said, obviously annoyed.

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a knot. I’ll try, but we both know that all this mushy crap isn’t my thing,” Dean said.

“Well, if you want Cas to be your boyfriend, then you better make it your thing. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” Sam said.

“Yeah, alright. Love you too and good luck on your test.”

“Thanks Dean, bye jerk.”

“Bye bitch,” Dean replied, softly. He dropped his phone on the bed and lay there, contemplating if he could just jump in a hole and let it swallow him. He finally rolled out of bed and walked over to his desk. He grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.

A few days later, Castiel walked into the apartment he shared with Dean. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He drank half of it before walking to his bedroom and grabbing his overflowing laundry basket. He paused by Dean’s door before deciding to see if Dean had any dirty clothes. He opened the door and walked inside. He grabbed the few clothes he saw lying on the floor and then walked to Dean’s desk to grab the shirt that was lying on top. 

He picked the shirt up and something flew onto the floor. Cas went to drop the clothes into his basket before walking back into the room. He picked the piece of paper up and was surprised to see his name written on it. His curiosity was too strong to be ignored. As he read, his eyes widened with every bullet point.

My Cas List aka All My Favorite Things About My Roommate/Best Friend/Guy I’m In Love With

His hair. I love how it’s shining black, almost like a raven’s wings. Also love how no matter how hard he tries to make it lie flat, it always gives him a perpetually just got laid look.

His eyes. Holy shit, I could write an entire essay on Cas’ eyes. They are the deepest, purest, most gorgeous fucking blue I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the ocean when the sun is reflecting off the water.

His smile. I mean his real smile, where his gums show and his eyes and nose scrunch up. I love it so much because he rarely smiles that big. It’s like a freakin ray of sunshine! Although, I’ve noticed he smiles a lot like that when we hang out. Ha, suck it Crowley!

His body! Man Cas, has a killer fucking body with those broad shoulders, flat stomach, and them thighs! Oh my God, he could crush a watermelon with those things. Hell, I wish he would crush me with them. And he’s got a pretty impressive cock (what can I say, I was a peeping Tom a few times!) I wish I knew what it felt like to have it buried in my ass, man I bet he would fill me up just right!

His hands! He’s got huge ass hands and man I love to just watch him pick shit up. When he touches me with them, I get goosebumps all over. I just wished he’d touch me more often with them.

His voice. Whiskey on gravel and man the things it does to me! Man, what I would give to be in bed with Cas and have him order me around with that voice of his. Ughh, I get hard just thinking about it.

His fascination with bees. He’s so passionate and I love listening to him talk about how important they are for the environment and how they make their honey. I might not love bees, but I would listen to Cas all day because when he talks his eyes light up and he gets one of his gummy smiles.

His utter lack of understanding of pop culture references. I mean he literally gets none of my references but that just means I get to educate him. I love our movie marathon weekends because of all the time I get to spend with him!

He can’t cook worth a shit! That just means he loves my cooking all the more, especially my burgers! They make him very happy haha.

His baking skills! Dude might burn spaghetti noodles but he makes the best darn pies, cakes, and cookies I’ve ever tasted! The best thing in the world is coming home to a freshly baked apple pie made by Cas. It’s even better than Ellen’s (not that I would tell her that.)

He loves Sam as much as I do! Sammy means the world to me and to know that Cas loves him and treats him like his own brother means everything! Cas will hang out with Sam just as much as me and that earns major brownie points in my book!

He knows nothing about cars but he loves Baby! Enough said!

He loves animals. I never thought I would enjoy giving up a couple Saturday’s a month to go volunteer at the humane society but boy do I love it! I think I’ll ask Cas about adopting a pet and see what he says. I bet he’ll say yes.

His head tilts when he’s confused. It’s just so damn cute.

That damn trench coat of his. He’s the only person in the world who looks so darn sexy in a plain brown coat.

The fact that he will steal my clothes and wear them before wearing his own. God he looks sexy when he wears my stuff.

All the times we spend hanging out. Cas is always down to do anything whether it's going to the arcade, or the zoo or a football game. Hell we spent an entire day at a car museum and then at a natural history museum just so we could do what each other likes! Besides Sam, there’s no other person I would want to hang out with.

His personality! Wow, that’s a huge one but it’s true. Cas is the most caring, thoughtful, loyal, smart, funny, kind, awesome, brave, generous, etc, etc. Cas is the best friend a guy could ask for and I can’t imagine not having him in my life. He’s a freaking angel and I just wished I deserved him. I wish I had the freaking nerve to tell him how I feel because getting to spend the rest of my life with someone as amazing as Cas is better than all the free burgers and pie in the world.

I could keep going but my hand is getting tired and I’ve got work to get to or else Bobby will have my hide. Maybe, one day, I’ll actually show this to Cas but probably not. I only did this because Sam suggested it would help come up with a way to ask Cas out, but all it’s done is made me realize why I don’t deserve him in the first place.

Cas plopped down on Dean’s bed and just stared at the note, unable to believe what he just read. He sat there for nearly ten minutes trying to process his thoughts. Finally, he grabbed a piece of paper off Dean’s desk and started writing a letter of his own.

“Cas, I’m home! I figured I would make my burgers for dinner along with some homemade fries. Afterwards, we can watch that bee documentary you recorded,” Dean called as he headed to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw his friend sitting at the table, a cup of hot tea nestled between his hands. Cas had a real fondness for the stuff.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said.

Dean paused, Cas’ tone not the pleasant sound it normally was. “Uh, everything alright?”

Cas nodded and took a sip of his drink. “It is.” He sat his cup back down before reaching into his pocket and taking a piece of paper out. He unfolded it and slid it to the opposite side of the table. “Sit down, and read this please.”

Dean couldn’t help but eye his roommate as he took a seat and grabbed the paper. The blood drained from his face when he read the top line.

All My Favorite Things About My Favorite Person aka The Person I’m In Love With

Dean’s stomach was in knots as he looked at Cas. “Uh, what is this?”

“Just read it Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean sighed before looking at the paper once more.

       1. His looks. I am a sucker for blonde hair and he has dark golden locks that always seem to lie perfectly even when he just runs his fingers through it. His eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They are like a forest on a warm spring day.        2. His laugh. He doesn’t laugh overly much but when he does, he has a smile that lights up his face and his whole body shakes with joy. I could listen to his laugh from sunrise to sunset. I’ve noticed he laughs a lot around me and it always makes my heart beat faster when I hear it.        3. His body! The Greek sculptors couldn’t find a better specimen if they looked. He has the perfect face with plump lips, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Then he’s got wonderfully muscled shoulders, a wide chest, a toned stomach, and bow legs (which I find freaking adorable. I may or may not have seen his cock which is extremely impressive and I dream about wrapping my mouth around it and bringing him to orgasm.

Dean couldn’t help his thoughts as he read. “This dude sounds perfect but hell, I’ve got all of that. I mean my hair may not be gold and my eyes are just a plain green but I’ve got a pretty good body. I definitely have the damn bow legs and my dick is pretty spectacular.” He continued reading.

       4. Did I mention his bow legs? I know he hates them, but I think it just adds  to his overall physique. I wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around me any day!

       5. His voice. When he sings, it’s like water running over rocks. It’s clear and smooth and I wish he'd sing more often!

       6. His love of cars! He’s got the most awesome vintage car in the world and there’s nothing better than just going on long drives in her. I can spend hours listening to him talk about cars even if I don’t have a fucking clue what he’s talking about.

Dean tried to keep the scowl from his face as he thought, “Now wait a damn minute! Baby is the best car in the world and whoever this guy is can bite me! Maybe Cas doesn’t like Baby as much as I thought. I guess he was just pretending about enjoying our car rides together.”

       7. His ridiculous amount of knowledge about all pop culture related things. I don’t think he can say more than three sentences without referencing a movie, or TV show, or band. It’s ridiculous and sometimes talking to him is like trying to learn a foreign language! But that just gives me all the more reasons to have movie marathons with him so that maybe one day, I can be as savvy as he is.

       8. His obsession with cowboys! The man dresses as Clint Eastwood every year for Halloween! Need I say more?

Dean glanced at Cas, but he was looking to the side towards the kitchen window. “I want to meet this dude and show him I know more about pop culture than he ever could! I also bet my Clint Eastwood costume is better! I don’t understand why Cas is so caught up on this dude! I have all of this and I bet I do it better!”

       9. His cooking! If I could only eat his burgers for the rest of my life, I’d die a happy man!

“I thought my burgers were the best, though! Cas has said multiple times how they’re practically orgasmic,” Dean said inside his head.

       10. His love of sweets, especially pie! He would live on pie if he could and I love to spend all day baking sweets and watch him enjoy the fruits of my labor!

       11. He’s a family man and loves his brother with everything he has! They have one of the strongest sibling bonds I’ve ever seen and I’m so happy they took me in and include me in all their adventures.

       12. He knows nothing about bees but will listen to me ramble about them all day. He gets this almost dreamy look as he listens and it makes my heart melt to know that he pays attention even if it isn’t his thing.

Dean frowned as he thought, “I fucking enjoy Cas’ baking and I will listen to him all damn day talk about bees! Why is Cas so hung up on this dude when I’ll do all the same shit! What if Sam was right and Cas got tired of waiting for me, so found someone else that was a lot like me?”

       13. He loves coming to the animal shelter with me! He didn’t at first but now he never says no! Maybe one day, we’ll have our very own dog or cat.

       14. He has this small pudge above his waist from all the burgers and pie he eats that won’t go away no matter what! Again he hates it, but it’s the comfiest spot to rest my head on when we’re lying on the couch together.

Dean dropped his hand to his stomach and pushed against his own small pooch. Cas always used it for a pillow, but this mystery guy’s must be better. Since when did Cas go to the animal shelter with anybody but Dean? Dean thought it was their thing, but obviously he was wrong.

       15. His love of all things plaid! Like I’m pretty sure his wardrobe is 90% flannel and 10% everything else! Although, me stealing about ten of his old band t-shirts didn’t help, but they smell like him so I just had to.

       16. His necklace that he always wears. His brother gave it to him and he never takes it off. 

Dean wrapped his fingers around the amulet hanging from his neck. Sam had given it to him for Christmas when they were kids after their dad failed to show up yet again. It meant the world to him and if he ever lost it, he would be heartbroken.

       17. All the time we spend hanging out together. There’s never any telling where we’ll end up! It could be a zoo or a museum or some kind of sports game! We’ve gone bowling, golfing, and I even convinced him to go on a rollercoaster with me. He held onto me the entire time because he’s afraid of heights. Of course I went with him to a car show the following week to even it out.

“I thought hanging out with me was special,” Dean thought sadly. His shoulders dropped as he realized that maybe Cas didn’t enjoy hanging out as much as he thought. It was obvious that Cas enjoyed spending time with his crush more than Dean.

       18. His personality! There isn’t enough paper in the world to write everything I love about him. He’s wicked smart and has a great sense of humor! He’s loyal and kind hearted! He will help anybody who needs a helping hand whether it’s mowing their lawn or taking them to the store because their car broke down. He’s stubborn, sure, but he’s also brave and ambitious and full of life. He’s definitely the life of every party we go to! He’s the extrovert to my introvert. He’s extremely dependable and responsible. He’s strong but also gentle! He can be a little cocky but hey, he’s earned it! He’s the best guy I’ve ever met and I would never want to live another day of my life without him. There’s not another guy on this Earth that I love like I do him and I just wish he realized how much I care for him. He can be very self doubtful about himself even though he can also be the most confident person in the world. I love him with all of my heart and I just hope when I finally tell him how I feel, he won’t turn me down.

Dean dropped the paper to the table, unable to look at it any longer. He was barely keeping the tears from falling as his heart shattered into pieces. He had everything on Cas’ list, yet Cas had chosen another person instead of him. All because Dean had been too chicken to admit his feelings. He looked up at Cas and tried to plaster a smile on his face. “I hope this guy realizes just what a gift he has waiting for him. You’re amazing Cas and anybody would be lucky to call you theirs.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean. He is a pretty awesome guy, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

Dean sighed, trying to keep the bitterness from leaking into his voice. “Then why aren’t you with him? Why didn’t you show him this list instead of me? Do you want me to proofread the damn thing for you?” So, he was being a bit of an ass. He just found out the guy he was in love with didn’t like him back. How else was he supposed to respond?

Cas laughed softly. “No, I don’t want you to proofread it. As far as why I didn’t just hand it to the guy, I actually just did. He’s being a little dense right now.”

“Wait, what?” Dean exclaimed, his eyes locking with Cas’. Had Cas just said what he thought he said? Dean tried to keep his hopes in check in case he had heard wrong.

Cas stood to his feet and walked over to stand beside Dean. He reached for Dean’s hand and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s. “You are the guy in that letter.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before squeaking out, “Me?”

“Yes, you. I saw your letter to me when I went to get your dirty clothes and figured I’d write one of my own,” Cas explained. He squeezed Dean’s fingers and smiled brightly at him.

Dean stared at Cas before reaching up and cupping his cheek in his hand. “You really mean it?” he asked as he searched Cas’ eyes for any sort of lie.

“Every word,” Cas said softly. “I love you Dean, so much it hurts.”

“I love you too, Cas! I’m sorry it took so long,” Dean said, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“That’s ok, we just have lots of time to make up for! There’s a few things on our lists that I want to make a reality ASAP,” Cas replied with a smirk.

Dean’s eyes went wide as a smile stretched his lips. “Oh fuck yes,” he cried before crashing his lips against Cas’. Cas responded immediately, sliding his hands into Dean’s hair and slotting their mouths ever tighter together. They finally had their favorite person in their arms!

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel

[anika-ann]

Lessons in Rule-breaking - Pt.2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 2830

Warnings: …nothing major? Swearing, fluff, gooffiness.

Summary: Arrangement made, arrangement cancelled, Finding Nemo screening and... ;)

Story Masterlist

═══════☆═══════

You hated yourself, you really did.

It wasn’t the fact that you couldn’t have held on a little longer and you had texted Steve the very next day in the morning – unable to follow some basic rules of socializing – just to let him know when you could possibly arrange the movie theatre thing. It wasn’t even that you had done puppy eyes at everyone you had been trying to convince to tolerate the project. That was all okay.

You hated yourself for the burning sting of disappointment that had come when Steve hadn’t texted back. You had been sitting by your phone like a super-excited nag for three days and you had been getting sadder with each hour with no response.

Now you were just annoyed.

It was ridiculous and you had been unbearably stupid. Of course he wouldn’t text back. What had you been thinking? Chances were he had even given you a fake number, no matter how genuine he had seemed when talking to you – he was probably used to that kind of interaction and he hadn’t wanted to be rude in person, trying to maintain some sort of an image; even when being so casual you would have believed he was just a kid from Brooklyn, just your average Jack on the street. He had been nice and you had trusted him.

Stupid, stupid-

“Oh god, I’m such an ass,” you murmured and went to continue on your pizza from the place on the corner of your street – you had it delivered despite the fact you could have just walked for five minutes and get it yourself. You were pathetic.

You stared at the rest of your food, losing the last remains of your appetite when remembering that stupid wannabe genuine eyes of his.

Your phone rang, interrupting your sulking.

You eyed it suspiciously, wondering who was calling you – perhaps you didn’t check in with mum for too long? Possible. Someone wanted to switch shifts? More than likely.

To your shock, the ID was announcing a completely different caller. Steve. And just like that, you realized you weren’t pissed at yourself only, but also at him. But you were too curious about what he would have to say for you to let the call unanswered.

Also, there was a possibility of some poor bastard, whose number Steve had given you when trying to dodge you, was calling now, confused about your text.

“Hello?” you said to the speaker unsurely, anxious about what was to come.

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. “Hi! I’m sorry, it’s Steve, I-…“

Well. Now what?

“Uhm… hi, Steve.”

“Hi,” he repeated hastily and if you weren’t angry with him and also utterly disappointed, you would have found his hastiness endearing – but you were. “I… I wanted to apologize for not texting back-“

You sighed and decided to save him from his misery. “It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.”

You did understand pretty well. Maybe you could have said it less harshly, but you were pretty proud of yourself for just speaking with him.

“I… don’t?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the stupid tears of humiliation that had no logical explanation.

“No, Steve. You were just trying to be nice and didn’t know how to get rid of me, I get it. I won’t bother you-“

“What?” he breathed, sounding honestly astonished. “No! I— is that what you think? I didn’t even know you texted me until five minutes ago, we left for a mission in the middle of a night and we have ‘no-phones’ policy during those, so… I’m really sorry.”

You sat on your couch, frozen, letting the information sink in.

Hold on a sec. Was Steve still having missions? Was he-- it kinda made sense; he had been there for the battle of New York. And what else he would be doing? Posing for art students? Barely – he was a soldier waking up after seventy years. Of course he was still fighting. Probably under some super-secret organization.

Oh god.

“Oh god, I’m such an ass,” you whispered for the second time this evening, letting your head fall into your palm.

You thought he was being a dick. And had been saving the world.

Who’s the dick now?

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” he asked, seeming confused.

”I… may have thought… you… lost the text?”

“That can happen?!”

You pressed your lips together. Sweet summer child, still learning about technology…. You cleared your throat. “It can. If you help it… disappear.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I know what I was thinking, obviously, but… yeah. It’s… it would be a perfectly natural response, you know, to ignore it-“

“Yeah, no,” he interrupted you, determined. “I’m sorry if I made you upset. I… if the offer still stands, I would really like watch a movie with you.”

And just like that, your heart melted completely.

“Awww, Steve,” a new voice joined in the background. “You are so sw-“

“Go to hell, Romanoff-“ Steve cut off the woman and you could hear some rustling then – did Steve try to cover the speaker?

“Ouch. I’m wounded, Rogers,” the woman continued teasing him and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing since you could still hear Romanoff clearly.

“Just— shut up. Go away.”

You could hear a laugh and then a bang, more rustle and Steve was back with you.

“Sorry for that.”

You chuckled. “It’s okay, Steve. She seems like a piece of work,” you noted and heard him inhale sharply.

“…how much did you hear?”

“Not much, just about… everything?”

“I’m going to kill her. Yeah, Natasha can be a bit too much,” he mumbled and you would swear he sounded embarrassed.

“Sounds like it would be a shame to kill her. Bet she’s a keeper.”

“Wait until you meet her, you might change your mind.”

Your lips parted, your heart sent into a cardiac arrest. Holy— did he just imply he would like you and the Natasha woman meet? That he wouldn’t be against you meeting his friends/co-workers? That was--… nice.

“Anyway, can I still take you upon the offer? Please?”

Oh god, the soft timid ‘please’ was enough to erase the past few days. You were such a goner.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can. When do you have time? Did you pick any of the days I suggested?”

“Tomorrow?” he offered, taking you aback greatly, your stomach clenching immediately. That soon?! “Or not-“

“Yes! Tomorrow’s fine. Why wait, right?”

“Exactly,” he breathed, relieved. “I much rather meet with you soon so they can’t call me away again before I do. So…”

Your heart just swelled. You needed to stop reading more into all this.

“…tomorrow. After eight. Looking forward to it, Steve-” Too much, ALERT, too much!

“Me too,” he replied and you would swear you could hear a smile in his voice.

“You got it bad, Rogers,” the woman from earlier said then and you covered your mouth with your palm to muffle the giggle on your lips.

“For god’s sake, Natasha!”

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered.

“Night. See you tomorrow,” he whispered back softly. “You’re dead, Romanoff!”

“Steve, you need to press the red button to actually end the call,” she teased him and then you heard a growl and you were cut off.

You burst out into a maniacal laughter and squeezed you phone tighter.

Alright, time to stop sulking. You had a movie to download.

═══════☆═══════

Mia knew someone was coming over and since you had a deal with the guards, she didn’t question it – she let you check out the exhibit after closing time, grateful she didn’t have to do it, and left with a suggestive wink. You rolled your eyes and pretended you didn’t blush.

Steve arrived ten minutes after eight, wearing his perfect disguise in a form of a baseball cap, finding you at the desk. Seeing him again – a tiny smile settled on his lips and bright eyes smiling at you as well –, you scolded yourself for thinking he had been ghosting you.

“Hey. Welcome to Smithsonian cinema. How can I help you?” you greeted him, not sure where it came from. Steve smiled wider.

“Heard you were playing a great movie tonight. Couldn’t resist. Plus, I‘ve been promised popcorn and… some pleasant company. I can see I came to the right place,” he started rather confidently, turning bashful in the end.

How the hell could you resist and not read anything into it when he talked like that?

“Oh— oh yes. Come in. I’ll get the popcorn.”

“Thanks. How much for it?

“About two hours of your time, Captain,” you told him the price, rising from your seat. “That okay?”

One corner of his lips rose higher. “More than okay. And for the company? That would actually call me my first name?”

You lowered your gaze, wondering if you were crossing a line. “Smile is enough, Steve.”

You were glad you had some time for yourself during preparing the popcorn – you needed to calm down. Your palms were awkwardly sweaty, your throat was dry and your heart was beating like crazy.

Calm down. Just two not-even-friends hanging out. Nothing more. Sure, you’re doing a service to your country by educating national hero in pop culture, but you have literally no reason to be nervous, because it’s not like you have to make him LIKE like you. That’s not gonna happen anyway. Loosen up.

By the time you started the movie and handed Steve the popcorn he had insisted he had to share with you, you convinced yourself it was the truth. And within ten minutes through the movie, you got comfortable enough to make a note to the plot, your body getting on with the program of two not romantically involved people sitting in an empty movie theatre. And you had fun. Steve seemed to appreciate the notes, a laugh escaping him from time to time and it was amazing.

When the end titles started rolling down, you turned to Steve, finding him already watching you instead of the screen. He smiled and you smiled back as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"That's it. You've been educated," you announced, rising from your seat and making your way to the projector. He followed your lead.

"Thank you. It's was… very enlightening."

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Oh. Was I rambling too much? I was, wasn’t I?”

Steve shook his head, still smiling, and his eyes shined even in the dim light of the computer you were turning off.

“No. I appreciated it. Like I said – very enlightening,” he whispered softly, his gaze locked with yours, effectively sending your heart racing again.  

"Oh. That's great! If you find a movie you think definitely deserves to be watched in somewhat cinema quality, I think we can manage to arrange this again.”

“I’d really like that.”

“ ‘kay.”

You were so glad when you got out from the theatre, though it wasn’t like the lightning was less intimate in the common space of the museum at night. Steve walked by your side to the counter desk where you had your stuff.

“Uhm… next Thursday works?” he asked, sounding quite hopeful and you couldn’t help but grin. He really liked it!

“Yeah, sure. It’s a date,” you blurted out, realizing only a second later how it sounded. “I mean like— did you use to say that back in the day? I meant like ‘it’s a deal’, I didn’t-- didn’t mean like date date!”

Did he really just lower his gaze, stuffing one of his hands into the back pocket of his jeans as if he was nervous? Hey, you were the nervous one around here! You rather picked your backpack before you could interpret something in a wrong way. Again.

“Oh. That’s… that’s a shame,” he mumbled, peeking at you through his eyelashes. Your lips parted in shock as you stared at his shy smile.

“...what? You— you would-- you would like it to be… a date?”

“Or not. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Did Steve just ask you out?!

Did… Captain freaking America asked you on a date? What the hell was wrong with him? Why on Earth would the original hero want to go on a date with you? Of course you would say yes, you wanted to shout it from a rooftop – or maybe just here really, the sound would echo greatly here – but… really?

“…not the word I would use,” you choked out finally, after what felt like forever. Though you were entitled – Captain America was asking you out. Come again?!

Hesitant smile appeared on his lips, his eyes twinkling. “So… next Thursday? And it’s a date? Maybe with a dinner before of afterwards? Steve here is asking.”

Was he a mind-reader too?

“Yes, Steve. It’s— it’s a date.”

He examined your face closely, looking as if he was trying to crack a very difficult puzzle. Then he leaned in quickly and placed a light kiss on your left cheek.

“Wonderful. Goodnight.”

You blinked in surprise, unable to let out a word or to move. Steve disappeared behind a corner abruptly and suddenly the weight of what just happened hit you with full force.

You had a date. With this amazing specimen, who was not just incredibly attractive, but also very sweet.

You couldn’t hold it anymore. You giggled. You giggled like a schoolgirl. You couldn’t believe it.

A date.

With Steve.

You giggled into your palm again and then threw your hands it the air, spinning around, consumed by the euphoria sparkling in every cell of your body.

“Maybe I should take you dancing instead,” you heard someone call out and you yelped, stopping abruptly and turning to the source.

Steve was leaning against the wall of the very same corner he had disappeared behind, his arms crossed on his chest and slightly amused expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?!” you whisper-yelled after him, your face red as a lobster.

It was probably pointless to hope he hadn’t seen your embarrassing schoolgirl moment, wasn’t it? Oh god.

He bounced off of the wall, confident in his steps as he walked to you – you were too frozen to run away and hide somewhere you could die of embarrassment in private.

“I realized I haven’t offered you a ride home. I wouldn’t want you to wander the streets at night alone.”

“I always do that,” you shrieked, escaping his intense gaze. His brows furrowed.

“Well, I’d like to change that. At least for tonight. I kept you longer than you are usually staying, right?”

“…yes. But it was a pleasure, really.”

His hand tentatively rose to your face, cupping your cheek. You couldn’t breathe as his head – which meant his lips, his lips were right here, unfairly kissable – bowed to yours, his gaze focused on your face as if nothing else existed.

“It was. Would you let me take you home so I can be sure you got there safe?” he pleaded lowly and you couldn’t help it – your gaze flickered to his lips again, because goddammit, so close and so soft; you would know now, the ghost of their touch was still burning on your cheek.

You weren’t sure how it had happened, but you were nodding.

You couldn’t form one coherent thought beside ‘Steve is touching me and his mouth is dangerously close to mine’. And the said mouth just spread in a wide smile.

“Thank you.”

You had no idea what he was thanking you for, only being able to perceive that his hand slid much lower, taking your own and leading you out.

Steve was no wuss; he didn’t bother sneaking out in secret even when he was in the museum long after the closing time. He led you right through the main reception, where you met with Stan-the-guard’s wide-eyed gaze; he gave you a thumbs-up. Your face got even redder if possible, but you smiled at him shakily.

When outside, you found out that Steve’s definition of safe was a little bit different from yours, but if the man was offering you a ride on his bike, you were not about to say no. When he smoothed your hair before helping you to get the helmet on, you were about to melt, climbing beside him without him even asking you to do so.

“Hold on to me tight,” he whispered over his shoulder, readjusting your hold on his firm body. Honestly, if something would happen, you would die happy, because touching the firm muscles on his torso when dying seemed like a good way to go. But if you survived, you might touch it some more, so that was a motivation right there.

“Oh, I will.”

Trust me, Steve, I will.

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​  @lovesmesomehiddles​

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That’s it! Thank you for reading :))

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #captain america imagine #captain america exhibit #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #fluff #lessons in rule-breaking #anika ann

[platinummice]

This was a lot more that i thought for some reason, the answers are pretty short and to the point so if you want me to elaborate on something a bit more feel free to ask :)

@rockshortage

What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

Did a take a test to figure this out? Why yes, yes I did. ISFP-T, or Adventurer is what I got for Archer.

Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it? Do they try to treat it?

He sure does, but he doesn’t really know what it is. He mostly just thinks he’s going literally insane. It’s a pretty big reason for him not sticking around people very much even though he craves affection.

Are they good at handling change in their life?

No not really, Archer has a hard time, now more than ever trying to keep his simple life together, he’d prefer it not change as much as possible.

Is your OC a martyr?

He tries pretty hard not to be, or at least to not show that he is. He sees the truth though.

Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

Archer is pretty straight forward, if he fucked up he’ll say something. But he’ll make things up for others if he like them enough.

Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily?

I guess it depends? If its not something that matters very much, compromise will be easier, but if he thinks it’s important then he’s going to be harder to bargain with.

Does your OC put others’ needs before their own?

Only his dogs and his friends needs get put before his own. Anyone else? so sorry.

Does your OC have any addictions? If so and problematic, have they admitted it to themselves?

He’s addicted to taking in animals? Seems harmless, but in truth he does it so he has a reason to keep living, which isn’t healthy. I can’t say he’d still be alive if he hadn’t taken Ranger and Fletcher with him the day those raiders killed the rest of his dogs. 

Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

He’s terrified of needles. Thanks mom and dad.

Is your character empathetic?

He is, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to care.

Is your character observant?

Yes, very. Probably because he works with animals a lot, and its very important to notice their body language, so he can read people and situations pretty well. Plus he’s more of a sniper so being observant is important.

What’s one of your OC’s proudest moments of themselves?

He was really proud when he finished building his house, and all the furniture for it.  

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

He doesn’t get jealous very easily, but even when he does he doesn’t bring it up. He’ll sulk around a bit, and when asked he’ll say he fine. He wont really feel bad about if? Its just an emotion, it happens sometimes.

What instantly irritates them or puts them in a bad mood?

Seeing people hurt animals for no reason. He will throw down. Might not win, but its the thought that counts.

Are they harsh on themselves?

YES.

Do they make excuses often?

Nah he’s pretty fast to admit when he’s doing something wrong.

Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?

I mean i didn’t make him like super ugly? But i wasn’t going for amazingly attractive either, so average i guess?

Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?

He wears a mask all the time so he really doesn’t care. I mean at one point he had tore most of his hair out and just had a few scattered clumps clinging to his head, but people couldn’t see his face so it didn’t matter to him.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

He got some damn big emotional problems, and he recognizes some, like his slowly diminishing will to live. But things like his urge to have someone else control his entire existence he doesn’t really realize are problems. 

Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Everyone starts off with a set amount of respect. You either get more or have it taken away depending on your actions.

Is your OC considered funny? Do they believe they’re funny?

Arch can be pretty funny, if he has anything its a sense of humor.

Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?

Yeah he does, what can you do. No guilt will stop him.

Do they have a large or small group of friends?

He has two dogs and sometimes he works with a stinky man. He thinks Gage is a friend but does Gage think he is a friend? Who knows if Gage will ever tell him.

Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves?

....His dogs?

Does your OC enjoy social events, such as parties, clubs, et cetera..?

He likes talking to people, but if there are too many people around he gets overwhelmed pretty fast.

Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

More in the mix, he gets anxious.

Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

Arch considers himself less important then most people, thats mental illness babey. 

Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

He’d throw everything to the wind for his dogs. Sorry friends, but they’ve helped him through too much.

Do they believe people change over time? If so, is it a natural process or does it take effort?

Well he knows that he has changed a lot, so why not other people too?

How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?

When he was in the Mojave, Joshua taught him about Mormonism, but he didn’t really understand. He remembers some stuff, but after he left he didn’t try to keep up with practicing it. 

Do they believe in an afterlife?

It’s not something he takes time to think about really. That kid of a ‘ill cross that bridge when i get there’ type thing

Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

He would definitely not like that. He can barely manage his mental health as it is.

Would you say that your OC is intelligent? In what ways? Would your OC agree?

Smart when it comes to plants and animals, just about everything else? Not so smart.

How many languages do they speak?

Speaks exactly one(1) language.

Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?

He likes learning things, its just getting that knowledge to stick in his head that’s a problem. He doesn’t really seak out knowledge but if he has the chance to ask about things he will.

What sort of home do they live in now, if at all? How did they end up there?

Its just a little shack like building, but he built it and he’s proud.

What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

A big ol’ farm house, lots of room for lots of dogs/friends

Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?

I dont think so, but it’d be funny as hell.

How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

He can fix simple things, cabinets, chairs, dressers. Nothing too much more advanced than that.

How much do they work? What do they do? Do they enjoy it?

He works really all the time. From when he wakes up to when he goes to bed. He basically runs a mini zoo by himself, its a lot of work but he loves it.

How often are they home?

Pretty often, he has animals to take care of.

Are they homebodies and enjoy being home?

Not really, he likes being out and about.

Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Archer is actually pretty musically inclined, he’d never admit it though. You might be able to catch him singing to his dogs, if you're lucky.

Would they enjoy a theme park?

Maybe if he could somehow go when there aren’t any people there. That might sill be pushing it. He gets overwhelmed easily.

Is your OC close to their family?

Nope.

Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

He only ever knew his mom and his dad. If there was anyone else in his family he never met them.

Does your OC find their family supportive? If not, what would be an example why not?

Nah he really doesn’t think they’re supportive of him. They definitely wanted him dead.

What kind of childhood did your OC have?

:)

Did they go through any typical phases growing up?

He went through a lot of things, but never got the chance to be emo.

What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

I know i said he was strictly gay yesterday but im thinking he’d actually probably be Pan and he’d just lean towards more masculine partners. He hasn’t really thought about his sexuality so he’s never had a reason to be stressed over it.

Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?

Any space in his mind that was supposed to be used for math and literacy etc. is now storage space for little facts about the people he cares about. He will remember. Oh you said you thought this flower was pretty six an half years ago in passing and i found one so i thought id bring it back for you.

Does your OC believe there’s only one ideal partner (or multiple ideal if not monogamous) for everyone, or that there are many people who could be right?

Probably that there are multiple people who could be right.

Does your OC believe in love in first sight?

He barely even knows what love is, really.

Does your OC believe in marriage (or their culture’s equivalent)?

He doesn’t really understand the point of it but if his S/O wanted it, he’d agree.

Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

Nope :)

What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

Climb to a really high place, lil picnic, watch the sun set, (maybe hold hands?) look at the stars.

What are some things that your OC finds to be an instant turn-off in potential partners?

Not liking animals. They’re literally his entire life, you cant be with him and not like animals.

What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

Umami. But he’ll literally eat anything, especially if he’s desperate.

Are they vegan/vegetarian (if their overall culture/species generally aren’t)? If so, why? Do they think animal products are wrong in all circumstances?

He doesn’t really eat a lot of meat cause he wants to hurt as few animals as possible. He uses most of the meat he hunts for his animals, and only eats it when there is nothing else, or if there’s the possibility of it going to waste.

How often do they cook? Do they order out a lot?

He cooks pretty often, that being said do NOT eat what he makes! I dont know how he is still alive!

Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

Yep, in fact that's basically what he does already. Food is food babey.

Did you create the character to be like yourself, did they end up being like yourself, or are they very different from you?

Archer wasn’t ever supposed to be like me, and he’s not really, which i think is a good thing?

Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

Yes he needs hugs and I will provide.

What’s the longest you’ve had an OC for?

I’ve technically had Archer for 5 years thats a long time :)

#i think i died while doing this #jkjk #i had a lot of fun #the relationship question were to most fun #even though Archer is hardly relationship material #archer #today on archer loves his dogs more than anything in the world

[dxmagedrose]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER!

Tagged by: my lover @hammurabicomplex​ I’m tagging: anyone and everyone who wants to pick this one up! share with the class if you feel like it! tag me in it!!

PRESENTING. RANDOM DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO-MUN AT 2AM ;

FIRST NAME Good fucking question… It’s (sort-of) currently Dylann! I was Kieran before that, though; it’s still used as one of my first names and I’m not used to Dylann quite yet bc I’ve just started using it. 

Indigo is one of my middle names though, and I’ve used it as an online handle elsewhere forever so I use it here now!  [ Fun etymology facts: Dylan(n) is a mythology name generally meaning “born of the wave” (aspiring diver & a water witch at heart). Kieran means “little dark one” bc of my love for horror, && I chose Indigo bc as a kid to be it was neither boy (blue) or purple (girl) and was both and neither as well as my absolute favorite color as this vibrant ass mystical color. ]

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF hmmmmm…. I’m a horror lover at heart, so as a child (I wanna say 12), I was walking through an antique store (I have a few cool finds, I considered putting my other one as the fact tbh) and I turned the corner and I saw these two dolls staring back at me at the foot of the stairs of this antique building. my blood froze, and i felt my stomach drop. i got actual, physical goosebumps stumbling across these two creepy dolls staring back at me in the corner, and i couldn’t leave the store without them. perhaps the little painted porcelain boy would be somewhat spooky by himself if it wasn’t for the terrifying lidded gaze of the porcelain girl with the hairline fractures and slightly open lips. i cant look at her. i dont really find dolls scary, I like to find the spookier ones ones, and she makes me paranoid as hell. i keep her face covered and her up in my closet except for when i bring her out to show her off proudly as the spookiest thing I have but……. i dont really collect dolls anymore.  even thinking about her brings a fearful tear to my eye.  i don’t like to think about her for very long, but that’s why I’m so fucking proud to own her. ( YES — I’m THAT white person in the horror film )

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON hhhhh a beardy jawline, high cheekbones, crooked canine teeth >:3c

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF b.l.t.’s with avocado. ahhhh. my mouth is watering just thinking about it, oh my god. just a bit of salt and pepper???

A FOOD YOU HATE barbecue anything, i hate the taste of bbq sauce, you keep your nasty black goo to yourselves at the grill. twice in my life i have presented with barbecue pizza and both times i cried literal tears. why would you do such a horrible thing to a person? what kind of a monster are you? how do you sleep at night?!

GUILTY PLEASURE the sims. constantly. always. i’ve sunk thousands of hours into my households. oh also uhhhhhh i run two 80s horror blogs, one being a shitpost blog with occasional art of mine and one gremlin fanfic ship blog for horrible, terrible self indulgent fanfics i’ll get the courage to finish writing & post so i can be cancelled on tumblr for at some point. NO, i won’t link them. as i pretend they’re even all that hard to find, within a day i was found on both by someone i admire here a lot :’) ilu bby thnk u eternally for supporting ur local horrifying dumbass wtf

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN the same clothes i’ve been wearing all day usually, my sweats & long sleeve raglans or my hoodies. i like being cozy day & and out. and ugh. efoort. just throw me in a blanket in a cool room and im out.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS serious relationships with some openness or poly. i wish i could fling! just not exactly easy for demisexual autistics lmao.

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I think I would be adopted by my grandma as a kid. It would save me some trauma but mostly I think it would get my autism diagnosed way earlier and save me angsting all these years of wondering why & thinking it’s my fault I’m struggling so much and so loud and affectionate and different in a world that i didnt fit in the same way. 

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON when i get drunk i text people how much they mean to me in my life. does that answer your question? ahhh. i’m sometimes a cuddle monster with friends, i message people with long texts about how much they mean to me, but I sometimes really don’t like to be touched at all. 

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN FLYPAPER.  F L Y P A P E R.  FLYPAPER.  FLY, and, I can’t stress this enough, fucking PAPER. ( Though also Whole Nine Yards and both Re-Animator & Bride ). I have watched Flypaper already like, 5 times this week and I’m still not done, and the other movies have been on repeat for days in this household within the last year. In the past it has also been Donnie Darko & the new Nightmare on Elm Street.  roast me.

FAVORITE BOOK White Fang by Jack London. Have I actually ever finished it? No. Do I still own a copy I’ve had since childhood thru multiple dogs eating it, taking it to and from school, and highlighting and circling all the best parts of chapter one ever since I was a kid and it was too hard of a book for me to read? You bet your ass. If I ever need inspiration I just reread chapter 1. Although one of my other favorites was Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. But White Fang is like, a weirdly personal text. We stan London’s writing in this household.

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE FENNEC FOX!! I used to daydream about having my own named Shiloh when I was a lil kid. they’re adorable little things and i am obsessed. i mean, gimme any fox and im happy, marble foxes, red foxes… but I was obsessed with fennec foxes. Also tbh ferrets. I want a ferret.

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL] Rosa & @ninetyscnds‘s Luke, Rosa & @iimpulsivity is already screaming my name, Rosa & Constantine, Jesse & Andrea from Breaking Bad, and the joker and harley of 80s sci-fi Dan & Herbert from Re-Ani.  I am but a simple opossum. 

PIE OR CAKE Pie! I’ll take both pumpkin & melty apple over cake. also, cheesecake is more pie than cake soooo, pie wins.

FAVORITE SCENT my dogs / my blanket. :’)  It’s the most grounding smell in the world. 

CELEBRITY CRUSH oliver jackson-cohen, i’m fucking GAY and im angry about it. there i was, minding my own business, and i saw that asshole in a certain SHIRTLESS GIF and it AWOKE SOMETHING IN ME. dont talk to me about it, holy shit im obsessed with beardy men now god fuckkdafjaask i hate him why did he make me this gay i was perfectly fine being into girls but NOOOOOO him and his dumb hairy chest and sweet rugged face and I——  I also am obsessed with the archaeologist & television personality Josh Gates and may or may not be considering making a fan blog for him bc idk if my anthropology docuseries host is Dad or Daddy but i love him lots

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO I would go on a dive with anthropologists and archaeologists doing fieldwork research in the ancient cenotes of the Yucatán Peninsula. My actual dream job, catch me crying & fantasizing about being underwater documenting Mayan skulls given as offerings. Fuckkkk, I love anthropology so much!!  take me anywhere in the world to immerse myself into culture & archaeology.

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT Introvert. I have a real life friend I see roughly once a month, and that’s it. Plenty of online relationships, I’m chatty, message me all day every day. but i dont do people well.

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I used to! Really bad. I don’t as much anymore. I do get paranoia a lot still. Having therapists telling you that the FBI could be outside your house watching you through your windows will kind of nervous. ( no google results for: yes hello fbi i am a writer please dont put me on watchlists i just have research i need to do for this idea im working on, would you like to try again? ) I have nightmares nightly but not they never make me afraid, they just make me feel like crap. jumpscares and loud noises and seeing people reaching into their pockets dont set off as many brain alarms anymore tho!! progress haha.

IPHONE OR ANDROID I like my android better bc of capabilities but meh

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES My mom, her husband & I play COD for family game night, and Silent Hill is my life’s blood. I’ve sunken hours into Sims & Skyrim, and Norman Jayden from Heavy Rain is my #1 fictional character in existence, why do i love the druggie babies

DREAM JOB Oh… You’re asking me to pick? I’d love to be an anthropologist doing work out in the field. Underwater archaeology is peak, but I’m also heavily considering being a body recovery diver or police diver. I’d love to see myself in uniform someday, if possible. Just the thought makes me teary eyed & proud.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS fund my person creative & educational endeavors. get myself a spooky ass abandoned house to make my own home to create in, and travel to the world’s best dive sites. just live a mild life of education, creation & exploration. that’s the dream TM.

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE dr. hill is a gross and whiny lil bitch this post brought to u by the miskatonic crew, how is everyone here an even worse bad guy than herbert west precious dan excluded talk shit get hit tho john winchester from spn and both walter white & todd from breaking bad are all in my crew of hated characters. i jusT…   the reani novel is difficult to read because i have to deal with this old sack of shit.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER Supernatural :-)

… AND THIS CONCLUDES A DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO!! //

#||: && the mundane ( ooc ); #( get to know a bitch!! ) #( this was... a lot of me rambling about weirdly personal shit at 2 am )

[firstdate-lastdate]

Personal Trainer from Hell

It will come as a shock to no one that I am attracted to gingers. If you are a man with red hair, please step to the front of the line. Double points if you're athletic. I don’t know why I am this way, but I don’t fight it either. 

So naturally, when I laid eyes upon a red-headed man who worked at the gym next to the coffee shop I work at, I instantly imagined our future together. I don’t normally get nervous around men, let alone fall for them so quickly, but this was different. His biceps were incredible. I could not stop myself.

This gym was an exclusive Beverly Hills-type of gym, so I wasn’t a member there, but I had a friend who was. And members have guest passes.

Within a month, she took me to this gym as her guest, and with a stroke of luck, I found myself in a one-on-one workout with Ginger Trainer himself. He told me all about himself: how he turned down a six-figure job to be a personal trainer (oh),  how frequently women sexually harass him at work (um), and how he has trained every influencer and celebrity you can name, including LeBron James (sure). 

He went on to tell me he feels very strongly about woman’s rights, which I thought was amazing, right? In college, he started a club for collegiate athletes that educated men on consent and brought awareness to sexual assault and rape culture. This is literally my man of my dreams. 

He even goes so far as to stretch me (!!!) which really drove the tension home. Was this a date? I still don’t know. 

So blah blah we text a bit and he asks me on a proper date. We were going Christmas tree shopping and then he wanted to cook me dinner at his place. Great. Awesome. Fantastic. He lived fifteen Los Angeles miles away from me, on the other side of the 405 freeway, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me. It was my time to SHINE. 

Christmas tree shopping: fine. Grocery shopping with hot chocolate: cute. Sipping wine while this fine ass man cooks me dinner? Best night of my life.

And then things took a turn.

We watched a movie, and it was getting late. We were cuddling on his bed and he tells me about his strict religious upbringing. We’re talking church every Sunday, private schools, religious college, donating 10% of all income to his church, the WORKS. I’m nonreligious, and respect other’s beliefs, but... damn. I knew that he was generally religious, but this was a lot to take in. In my head I was wondering how this would affect our future. Would we have to get married in a church? Certainly I would burst into flames.

I’m taking it all in with my best polite facade, when he asks me if I’d ever read the bible. I tell him no, I hadn't, why? He asks if I’d ever read “the dirty stuff” ... I told him I wasn’t aware the bible had such a section. He pulled up the bible app on his phone. He read to me from the book of Solomon, which is basically about fucking your sister and sucking on her tits. I was wildly uncomfortable. I could not think of a worse time to pull out your handy dandy Bible app complete with incestuous erotica. Come to think of it, he had just finished telling me about how close he was with his sister...

Let me just stop and say that in all my years of dating, every single guy, without fail, has extended an invitation to sleep over if we have been drinking, if it is past midnight, and/or we live more than a ten minute drive from each other. Or all of the above.

So, around 1am, I announce I had to gather my things and drive home, genuinely expecting him to stop me and say it would be best if I slept there.

Me: Well, I should get going, I have work in the morning and it’s getting late. GT: Sure, I’ll help you get your things together.

(I was in shock yet couldn’t help but notice he was wearing shorts and no shoes. It was December, and it was one of those nights that it was freezing outside.)

Me: You might want to put some shoes on. I parked up the street and around the corner. GT: Oh, I wasn't going to walk you to your car. I was just going to walk you to the door of my apartment.  Me: Oh-

I was at a loss for words. This is the same guy who went ON and ON about his life’s mission to combat toxic masculinity, but yet does not walk a woman to her car at one in the morning, pitch black, strange neighborhood in LA, 40 degrees outside? Even after I gave him a nudge to put on shoes?

The density of some men never fails to astonish me. Especially the ones who swear on God they are not dense.

#dating #single #comedy

[marzipan-moon]

20,000 Breaths.

Characters: Korekiyo & his sister. Warnings: Graphic descriptions of illness/dying. No spoilers for DRV3 beyond Korekiyo’s freetime.  Author comment: So! This is my first attempt of writing Korekiyo, and of course I... go straight for the angst. I’m still getting used to his voice so things might seem a bit shaky/off - but any feedback is most appreciated. Thank you! Good Tune: I was heavily inspired by Shiva - The Antlers. Even if you don’t read this fic, I... Just... Listen to that song and think of Korekiyo. It just kills me every time ahhh. 

In one day, the average person takes around twenty thousand breaths. A breath is a physiological universal, automatic and controllable - subjective, technique based, and contextual. Breath is as much a fundamental part of life as to how we interact with the world, others, our environment. Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity - so many sects across the world merge breathing with spiritually - Chinese characters symbolically reduce breath into a fundamental radical, our speech punctuated by pauses and breaths like a tonal overture changing context.  

But, is our language rich enough to describe breathlessness? The fatigue, the slow build of mucous, how much she was able to grasp, moment by moment, her thoughts on the tire of her chest. The way patients describe, even express, breathlessness differs between country to country - their words shaped by education, poverty, experience; culture. The word fails, as so many words do, to capture the complete shape of the condition.

Scientifically, he could have described her as experiencing ‘hyperpnea’ when she was tired or ‘dyspnoea’ after anything that could be considered even mild exercise - he could try and capture her condition as ‘hyperventilation’ or ‘chronic respiratory failure’ - but what emotions did those words spring to mind? A coldness, hospital beds and plastic doctors. She was so much more than that, so so much more than that. So why not metaphor? The similes she herself so often employed when they asked her - when they could ask her, how she was feeling. “My lungs are like ground glass”, “Oh, it’s like there’s not enough air in the air”, “It’s like a heavy weight on my chest, like someone’s holding me down and they won’t let me back up”, “I’m drowning, it’s like I’m drowning, but it burns, oh my god. Why won’t it stop fucking burning?!” She couldn’t ever say, no matter how many scales they gave her, what her level of breathlessness was like. And she’d whisper to him that the nurses didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know the thick description - they wanted to reduce her to an ink mark number on a page, an experience calculated.   Is our language rich enough to properly describe, give justice to the way she clung to her throat? Her eyes like saucers, her mouth sloppy and drooping. The coughing, the shaking, the long thin croaking line of a gasp that sounded like her chest was coming undone like foundations of a house. The squeal of a rusty door, as if her throat was too dry, her lungs a motionless desert. But no matter how long he stared at her, each breath laboured and shaky and fragile, he couldn’t fully understand it. What it was like, what that sensation of drowning and that seemingly unstoppable ‘fucking burning’ was really like. He wished he knew. Ahh, as though knowing alone could give him some kind of control over it, as though knowing would make the observing somehow easier. He couldn’t give her his lungs. Even if he held his head under the bathwater until he came up bubbles and chokes, even if he ran and ran and ran in those endless circles around the hospital park - gasping for air while legs ached, even if he... well. Even if he tied a belt round his neck and pulled it until the world stilled, touching the horrid left-over marks with satisfied horror - no matter how he simulated her experience, it was all voluntary. With strong lungs. With an obvious end, a recovery point of minutes. In truth, all he could do was watch.

Watch twenty thousand breaths, quietly passing, unnoticeable without conscious effort. And yet, as she told him on a particularly bad day, you can’t stop it. You can try. You can hold it still, trap one fistful of air for as long as you want - but your body will override your consciousness and force it out anyway. Even if it has to shut down your brain, like a little emergency backup just in case the ape controlling it does anything stupid. Interesting, right? Twenty thousand breaths, and she’d been made aware of every one.  

“I’m breathless”, she’d say - tired from walking and taking a gasp from her inhaler. “I’m breathless”, she’d choke, throwing him the phone, collapsing onto the wall. “I’m breathless”, she’d croaked, gold eyes bleary and hardly open, the oxygen mask slipped from her face. That wasn’t, couldn’t have been, the same breathlessness he felt when they told her she was dead. Her breathlessness had been a struggle, a desperation, a notice of the absence. Even when she’d become just a vomit of tubes and the machine pumped air into her and ‘breathless’ took a new meaning - his own breathlessness was something wholly different. It was like he’d never be aware of his breathing again. An emptiness that was sucked from his mouth like the catheters that took away her useless waste. The rope round his neck was choking him. It was too tight, tighter than the mask on his face. He couldn’t feel his body, sounds distorting, the ruffle of clothes and the snap of the whip seeming wholly separate from the world inside of him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t cry out, he couldn’t even laugh. This was it, suspended and helpless, this was what she must have felt. The weight on his chest pushing the glass in deeper, the scratches coating his lungs over and over rapid slices red in his vision and a burning, an agonising burning like the stove touching the stove the hot hot hot sun blistering i want this but please breathe breathe breathe breathe please breathe - His consciousness overridden, the stupid ape put to sleep.  

Historically, make up had been used throughout the deep well of human culture - precisely when it started long lost to that faraway darkness. The Chinese stained their fingernails with beeswax and eggwax, Persians with their precious kohl smeared along the edges of their eyelids, Geisha crushing safflower petals to rub on their eyebrows and rice powder for her face, European church leaders calling makeup sinful but thousands of woman still doing so. A precedent so long it could almost be called natural.   There’s many reasons why makeup is thought to be worn, to attract a mate, a symbol of status, ceremony or event. She wore it so she didn’t look sick. He remembered her long rants, fourteen and bold - makeup was a stupid leftover of a more primitive society. A capitalist evil forcing women into societal anxiety so that they might offer their money and their time on poisonous trite. It dulled them, she said, even if the goal was to make them sparkle. But then her cheeks hollowed, her eyes sunk, her complexion sallowed  - and suddenly her face was forever coated in fine powder, her lips a blaring red. He hadn’t liked it at first, but on reflection, he couldn’t help but wonder if she in part wore it for him. To distract from her sickness, so he wouldn’t notice… that her cheeks didn’t stop getting hollower, her eyes didn’t stop sinking, her complexion sallower. It was like she suspended her appearance under that mask, like she needed it to face the world.

Funny, she wore it so proudly - but it was just another way for her to hide. You could say she wanted to be noticed, but in reality - she just wanted to be thought of as ordinary. He touched his face, ran his fingers over the warm material over his neck - you could say too, that he wore his own (rather more literal) mask for attention. Kekeke, and you’d be wrong. Though he supposed he didn’t want to be thought of as ordinary, either - as flexible and fluid as that term was, anyway. … He used her foundation, the sensation of applying it not unpleasant. He put on her lipstick, Cherry Lush or other somesuch fanciful name. He painted his eyes, such a thin line of black eyeliner - until, yes, yes - yes! There she was! Smiling back at him, her perfect face, her mask and her memories, her soft lips opening to thank him for the job well done. Thank you, thank you, thank you Korekiyo. You’re getting better at this, Korekiyo. You’re making me so, (sosoososo) happy. He slipped his own mask back over, and for a moment, saw her in the mirror with her oxygen mask. The sound of his breathing filled the room, and he embraced himself, thankful that she’d never ever ever ever have to wear that awful mask again.

She finally had his lungs.

#Danganronpa V3 #Danganronpa #korekiyo shinguuji #korekiyo #kiyo #writing

[kpopthispussyyy]

BTS reaction to their black girlfriend facing racism/ignorance

Namjoon

Namjoon would be absolutely livid. He’d be confused at first when you both got pulled over by a cop. He knew you weren't speeding, so what the hell? 

“Here we go again.” You'd whisper to yourself, not aware that Namjoon was watching you.

He’d watch silently as the cop asked for your license and registration. He’d notice smug look on the cops face as he told you that there was a robbery near by and you resembled the suspect.

“Wait wait wait wait. Describe the suspect.” Namjoon would interrupt. 

The cop wouldn't take him seriously and would ignore his question, causing Namjoon to snap and get out of the car, yelling for the cop to describe the suspect, and about how you both had the right to know what this was about. Terror would freeze your blood as the cop began to order Namjoon to get back in the car and jesus christ all mighty, why isn't Namjoon listening to you as you scream for him to get his ass back in the car? Your heart would be pounding as you saw the cop begin to reach for his fire arm, but luckily, Namjoon would finally listen and sit in the car next to you.

The cop would leave you both with a firm warning to Namjoon and an insincere apology to you. When he was gone, you’d fall apart, hitting Namjoon and yelling incoherently, tears streaming down your face. Namjoon would be surprised and would gently defend himself from your blows. He’d yell over your screams.

“Why are you so mad?! It wasn't our fault.” He’d ask, exasperatedly.

You’d take a deep breath and look at him with tear filled eyes.

“Namjoon. You have to understand. I’m black. I can't afford to yell at the police. They shoot first and ask questions later. The fact that you're in the car with a black person automatically means you can get shot too so please. Don't ever, do that again.” You plead, holding his hands in yours. 

He quickly nods and pulls you to his chest, comforting you. He makes you switch places with him and drives home. Afterwards, your relationship is ten times stronger and ten times more understanding.

Hoseok

Hoseok is the definition of low-key savage. He’s the sun as everyone knows, and is literally happiness personified, but when it came to protecting you, he could kill. Dating a black girl had really opened his eyes to some injustices black people faced, and he’d be damned if he let anyone disrespect you, whether it was or wasn't due to the color of your skin.

When he finds out that your boss told you to ‘do something about your hair’ which you preferred to keep natural, he laughs and shakes his head. It’s at that moment that you know you made a huge mistake telling him, cause that laugh meant one thing and one thing only.

Time to fuck shit up. 

While you were at work, Hoseok would show up with a book in his hand. He’d make his way to your bosses office calmly. You'd watch in shock from the door as he pulled out articles about African American hairstyles being discriminated against in the workplace settings, spreading them in front of your shocked boss. He’d explain how almost all of the employers in the articles were ruled as ‘right’ in the claim that they could choose hairstyles for their employees. Then he pointed at the ones who lost their claims, along with their businesses.

“Now that we've read these and got educated, let me make one thing clear. If my girlfriend, Y/n, comes home to tell me you said anything to her regarding this conversation, or tormented her in anyway, I will do everything in my power to make sure you loose your business, then your money, then your house. Don't be an asshole. Here’s my card. Have a lovely day.” He’d finish with a sweet smile, then walk out, kissing you goodbye.

Your boss wouldn't dare to say a word to you, seeing as your boyfriend was famous, and according to google, worth a shitload of money. Your hair was happy, you were happy, Hoseok was happy, and all things were good.

Seokjin

“N*GG*R!”

You'd feel you heart stop at the word that hit you like a brick, lingering in the air. Jin would freeze and look around towards the crowd of paparazzi and fans that surrounded you both, looking for the culprit who was either hiding like a coward, or long gone.

Jin would grit his teeth in silent rage and wrap his arm around you. He’d maneuver his way through the crowd with a stricken girlfriend in his arms, entering the hotel finally. You'd both silently make your way to the elevator and enter. Jin would walk to the back of the elevator and lean on the wall, shaking with anger, while you replayed the moment over and over again in your head.

“I-I don't get it. We’re not even in the U.S anymore!” He’d yell, voice startling you.

You'd let out a laugh and shake your head. “Racists are everywhere baby. There’s no escaping it. Doesn't matter that were in another country.” You’d reply, giving him a soft, sad smile.

Seokjin would frown and immediately pull you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“It’s not fair to you. This was supposed to be our amazing, unforgettable honeymoon. Are you okay baby?” He’d ask, one hand coming up to cup your cheek so he could peer into your eyes.

“I’m fine. It’s not gonna affect out honeymoon. We’re here to have fun. Some ignorant git isn't gonna ruin that. Okay?” You ask, attempting to convince him that you really were okay.

Jin would sigh and finally relent, calming down. You’d both forget about the rough start to your honeymoon and have the best fun you'd ever had, making new memories free of criticism and media influence, as husband and wife. 

(GOD this boy is foiiiiiiiine. Lemme use this chance to confess that he has now wriggled his way up the ranks and has gone from Bias Wrecker to Another Bias. BITCH LOOK AT HIS FACE JHBJVUGJGH)

Yoongi

You’d both be on line for some shit idk, maybe to get coffee or buy groceries, when some random roach bitch came out of no where and suddenly dug her fingers into your afro. You’d be too shocked to react. You’d barely be able to hear her asking the usual roach questions like ‘omg, how'd you get your hair to do this?’ and ‘it’s like, sooooo puffy. Can you like, straighten it?’. Yoongi would make a face at what he saw, confused as to whether said roach didn’t see him next to you, or was ignoring him.

Ignoring the fact that roach was a girl and that he had to be a gentle man, he’d grab her arm hard and yank it away from your hair, still giving her that look that said ‘who in the fuck raised your disrespectful ass?’. 

“Um, don't touch her.” He’d say, throwing the roaches arm back. 

You'd stay silent, mentally laughing, knowing your boyfriend was about to snatch this bitches edges. 

The roach would wrinkle her nose in irritation and look to you for support, only to see you raising an eyebrow at her in disbelief.

“I’m sure you wouldn't want some random stranger digging their fingers into your hair, especially when getting your hair that way took hours of treatment and dedication. Fuck is wrong with you?” He’d ask, holding your hand in his as he cringed in disgust at the now stuttering, red faced roach.

“W-well excuse me, but she didn't say she minded.” Roachaline would spit at him, placing her hand on her hip smugly as if she had won.

“Well she didn't get the chance. Go away before I call security and report you for assault. And stop being a martyr for idiocy!” He would yell after her as she walked away appalled. You’d laugh and link arms with your savage of a boyfriend, cooing sweet nothings at him to calm him down. 

You’d both leave whatever store you were at laughing, happy as can be, talking shit about the atrocity you had just encountered.

Jungkook

You’d be in the dressing room with the boys, watching as they got their making done, in a heated conversation with Namjoon about types of weaves to get since he was dating a black girl too. You were in a bad mood already from some shit that had happened previously, but this poor child was about to get his girl some synthetic bundles for her birthday and that’s a no, so you decided to hook him up with some websites.

Jungkook watched through the mirror with a smile on his face as you gave Namjoon advice, laughing as his friend took down notes. Suddenly, one of the boys friends, some stranger, decided to add in his own unseasoned two cents.

“Weren't you just complaining about G-Dragon having dreads? How do you do that, then use straight/ silky hair that isn't yours?” He asks snottily, rolling his eyes at you.

The room went silent. Jungkook broke the silence with a short laugh, turning to glance at the boy. 

“Seriously?” He asks, letting out another laugh, this time slightly sinister.

He then proceeded to educate the idiot boy, cursing at him, informing him about how you might not be able to get some jobs without straight/silky hair. He informs him about how you occasionally get made fun of about how your hair defies gravity. He also informs him about how G-Dragon wearing dreads is wrong because it cultural appropriation. He tears him a new one, barking at the now beet red boy about how it’s also none of his goddamn business what you do with your hair. 

At the end of his rant, he's panting, makeup sliding down in trails of sweat, causing his make up artist to glare at him. The boy scurries out in shame, and it only takes a second for the entire room to burst out laughing, while you sit watching your boyfriend, filled with pride.

“Damn Kookie. Where'd you learn all that?” Jimin asks, impressed.

Jungkook smiles and lets out a small laugh and turns to you, a teasing glint in his eye. 

“Perks of dating Y/n.”

Jimin

“Excuse me?” Jimin would ask, raising an eyebrow at the host.

You’d sink into the couch in mortification, realizing that you were just sexualized on live tv, and it'd hurt even more when you realized it was because you were black. This wouldn’t be your first interview with Jimin, but this was the first time anyone was so blatantly rude. You’d feel a twinge of tears at the back of your throat and avoid eye contact with the camera after that.

“The question was, since dating Y/n, have you enjoyed sex more, considering how endowed she is?” The host would ask again shamelessly, wiggling his eyebrows at both Jimin and the producers back stage. 

Jimin would stay silent for a second, still reeling in shock. You'd think having a 13 and up audience would have been a red flag, but you guessed that being black and dating a pop star was just too juicy for the producers not to milk. The silence would make the host realize it was the wrong thing to ask, and he’d panic, turning to the producers again, but it was too late.

“First of all, that is absolutely none of your business. Secondly, the only reason you're asking me this question is because she’s black, and you should know better. You should all know better. I planned on cursing you out, but seeing as my girlfriend is in shock, were going to leave instead. Have a horrible day.” Jimin would spit out, grabbing your hand and pulling you off the set.

He’d drag you through apologizing crowds of people and out of the studio, back to your car. You’d enter and sit silently, Jimin grabbing your hand again as he enters.

“Baby, I'm so sorry. They're a bunch of idiots and their careers are over, I swear to god-” He’d rush out, making you interrupt him.

“It’s fine. Thank you for defending me.” You’d say with a weak smile, hugging him. 

He’d hug you back tightly, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears in his chest. The week that goes by afterwards would be hard. Paparazzi would be on a mission to get yours and Jimin’s statements, and that question would be played on every media outlet daily. Some fans were on yours and Jimin’s side, but of course, some also were not, thinking it was a fine question for the host to ask, and that he would have asked anyone.

Soon, other scandals come and go with other pop stars, and yours and Jimin’s debacle is soon forgotten, but you two don't forget. It strengthens your relationship. You and Jimin begin to love and understand each other on a different level.

Taehyung

You’d be hanging out with Taehyung at a bar with the rest of the group when suddenly, a group of fans would come up to you guys for autographs. Being used to this, you'd happily watch as the boys kindly tok their time and interacted with their fans, signing autographs and taking pictures.

“Oppa~ Why are you dating a black girl?” 

You froze at the question. Taehyung simply rose an eyebrow at the girl in front of him.

“What kinda question is that?” He asks, obviously trying not to be rude.

The girl rolls her eyes, gaining confidence.

“Well, why are you dating a black girl? A lot of fans are angry.” She stated, glancing at you bitterly for a second, then turning back to Taehyung.

Just as you were about to get up and drag the bitch, Taehyung let out an irritated groan. He crosses his arms and raises and eyebrow at the girl.

“I’m honestly trying to have a good day here, with my beautiful girlfriend and our best friends, so kindly go away before I make you cry.” He says, pinching the bride of his nose in frustration. 

The girl turns red, and scurries away, flustered from how an idol just spoke to her. The group turns to Taehyung and you, asking if you were both okay, but you both simply just blow it off, laughing and cuddling up. 

Before you two had started dating, you had both already spoken about what hardships you would face from the fans and from... well, the world. So anytime something like this came up, though it would take some insisting and begging, you'd always make sure he kindly told fans and people that mentioned your skin color negatively to ‘go away.’ 

~~~~

WELL GUYS. 

This took me three days to write, so I hope all of you enjoy it, especially my fellow black girls out there.

If this offended you, please leave me a butthurt ask or comment. I’m in a wonderful mood today 😊💖

#bts #bts reaction #bts scenario #namjoon #jungkook #yoongi #jimin #hosoek #taehyung #seokjin #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #p.o.c #female reader #scenarios #kpop scenarios

[friend-clarity]

The collapse of parenting: Why it’s time for parents to grow up

If anyone can be called the boss in modern, anti-hierarchical parenthood, it’s the children

Cathy Gulli, Jan 7, 2016

For modern families, the adage “food is love” might well be more true put another way: food is power. Not long ago, Dr. Leonard Sax was at a restaurant and overheard a father say to his daughter, “Honey, could you please do me a favour? Could you please just try one bite of your green peas?” To many people, this would have sounded like decent or maybe even sophisticated parenting—gentle coaxing formed as a question to get the child to co-operate without threatening her autonomy or creating a scene.

To Sax, a Pennsylvania family physician and psychologist famous for writing about children’s development, the situation epitomized something much worse: the recent collapse of parenting, which he says is at least partly to blame for kids becoming overweight, overmedicated, anxious and disrespectful of themselves and those around them.

[FOR THE RECORD: Dr. Leonard Sax on the, collapse of parenting]

The restaurant scene is a prime example of how all too often adults defer to kids because they have relinquished parental authority and lost confidence in themselves. They’re motivated by a desire to raise their children thoughtfully and respectfully. In theory, their intentions are good and their efforts impressive—moms and dads today are trying to build up their kids by giving them influence; they also want to please them and avoid conflict. In reality, parents are at risk of losing primacy over their children.

The dinner table is ground zero. “When parents begin to cede control to their kids, food choices are often the first thing to slide,” Sax writes in his new book, The Collapse of Parenting: How We Hurt Our Kids When We Treat Them Like Grown-Ups. A rule such as “No dessert until you eat your broccoli” has recently morphed into “How about three bites of broccoli, and then you can have dessert?” The command has become a question capped with a bribe, as Sax puts it. Dinner at home requires polling kids on what they’re willing to eat; the options might include roast chicken and potatoes or chicken fingers and fries. You can bet which they choose. So parents renegotiate: How about sweet potato fries?

Parents in North America have become prone to asking their children rather than telling them. “It’s natural,” says Gordon Neufeld, a prominent Vancouver psychologist cited in Sax’s book. “Intuitively, we know that if we’re coercive, we’re going to get resistance.” For trivial choices such as which colour of pants to wear, this approach is fine, he says. But “when we consult our children about issues that symbolize nurturance like food, we put them in the lead.” That triggers an innate psychological response, and their survival instincts activate: “They don’t feel taken care of and they start taking the alpha role.”

So if the girl served green peas does eat one bite as her dad asked, Sax says, “she is likely to believe that she has done her father a favour and that now he owes her a favour in return.” Food may be the first manifestation of the collapse of parenting, but many of the problems within families are a result of this type of role confusion. In this way, what happens over a meal is a metaphor for how uncomfortable parents have become in their position as the “alpha” or “pack leader” or “decider” of the family—the boss, the person in charge. The grown-up.

That discomfort comes from a loving place, of course. Many parents strive to raise their kids differently from how they grew up. They say, “I can’t do the stuff I was raised with, it doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to yell, I don’t want to spank,” says Andrea Nair, a psychotherapist and parenting educator in London, Ont. “There’s a massive parenting shift between our generation and the one before. We’ve come a long way from when you called your dad ‘sir’ and when he walked in the house you would jump out of ‘his’ chair.”

The evolution hasn’t been easy, though. “We’re trying to pull off the emotion coaching but we haven’t received the training,” says Nair. “It’s like teaching your kids to speak French while you’re learning it in the textbook.” Parents have made it a top priority that their kids feel heard and respected from a young age. They want to be emotionally available to them, and for their children to be able to express their own emotions. “Kids have permission to have tantrums now because [they’re] learning how to manage feelings,” says Nair. “Someone said to me, ‘Are we seeing more tantrums now than we used to?’ And I wonder.”

Parents also want a democratic household where each family member has a say about what happens—Should we go outside now? Are we ready to have a bath? Would you like to have the party here?—and they cultivate independence and freedom of thought in their children. Strict obedience used to be praised; now it is seen as outdated and potentially dangerous. Compliance might mean your kid is a pushover, which no parent wants, especially as bullying has spread from the schoolyard to cyberspace.

There are broader influences shifting the parent-child dynamic as well. Over the past half-century or more, the public has come to scorn power imbalances based on gender, race, religion and sexual orientation, and historic gains have been achieved in the pursuit of equality. Even corporations are now replacing pyramidal management with “flat organization.” In Western society, where equality for everyone has become a cultural objective and a constitutional right, children are treated like they are one more minority group to honour and empower. “Empower has come to seem virtuous,” Sax says. “Empower everyone, why not?”

But many kids are actually overpowering their parents. That’s the problem, say those working in child development. A functional family unit hinges on the one social construct that contemporary society has been working hard to dismantle: hierarchy. “You need a strong alpha presentation to inspire a child to trust you and depend upon you,” says Neufeld of parents. “If we don’t have enough natural power then we’re hard-pressed to [make] the demand or [set] the limit” for children. “The parent always has to be honoured as the ultimate person,” he continues. “We need to put parents back in the driver’s seat.”

[Related: There’s no such thing as a naturally picky eater]

If not, the consequences can be far-reaching, starting with children’s eating habits, which might contribute to them becoming overweight and obese. Like the father in the restaurant, many parents can’t convince their kids to eat well. It doesn’t help that junk food is sometimes a reward for acing a test or scoring a goal. The message: healthy food is for losers. On-demand snacking—in the car, at the mall, while out for a walk—appears to disrupt metabolism and circadian rhythms, as well as hormonal balance. That many parents carry with them a canteen of water and a stash of goodies wherever their kids go is further proof of how much they want to satisfy their children, literally and figuratively. “I don’t want them to get hypoglycemic,” one mom told Sax while lugging a cooler of snacks to her car for a 30-minute drive.

Contributing to the extraordinary weight gain among North American children in recent years is a dramatic decline in fitness. There is even a medical term for it, “deconditioning,” which is described in the Collapse of Parenting as a euphemism for “out of shape.” It has landed kids as young as 11 and 12 in the cardiologist’s office complaining of heart-disease symptoms including chest tightness and shortness of breath. In fact, some hospitals in the U.S. have even opened pediatric preventive cardiology clinics.

While children are less active than ever, they do not, ironically, get enough rest. A common question Sax asks students is, “What’s your favourite thing to do in your spare time, when you are by yourself with no one watching?” The most common answer in recent years: sleep. That’s because children are too busy with school assignments and extracurricular activities to go to bed at a good hour, or because when they get to bed, they are on their cellphone or computer, or playing video games.

[Related: Are we the worst generation of parents?]

This chronic fatigue may be associated with the rise of attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder and prescription drug use among children. “Sleep deprivation mimics ADHD almost perfectly,” writes Sax. In his experience as a doctor, insufficient sleep is one reason why kids are more likely to be diagnosed with the disorder. In general, “It is now easier to administer a pill prescribed by a board-certified physician, than to firmly instruct a child and impose consequences for bad behaviour.” Stephen Camarata, a professor of hearing and speech sciences and psychiatry at Vanderbilt University in Nashville echoes that point: “Parents say, ‘My child can’t do this particular exercise, they’re not paying attention,’ therefore I have to identify them as having a clinical condition.” A medical diagnosis might negate parental shortcomings or a child’s misbehaviour. “It displaces that failure,” he says.

Camarata worries that parents are asking too much of kids too soon, as he outlines in his latest book, The Intuitive Parent: Why the Best Thing For Your Child Is You. He points to the surge of books, toys and software marketed to parents of young children promising to accelerate learning. The ubiquitous metaphor that kids are information sponges has parents saturating them with educational exercises. “We’re treating them like little hard drives,” says Camarata, but “this idea of pushing children to the absolute max of their developmental norm doesn’t give them time to reason and problem-solve. It actually undermines both self-confidence and fluid reasoning, or the ability to think.”

Schools, too, have been focusing more on academic achievement than socialization. Sax documents how, 30 years ago, American students in kindergarten and Grade 1 learned “Fulghum’s rules,” which include tenets such as “Don’t take things that aren’t yours” and “Clean up your own mess” as well as “Share everything” and “Don’t hit people.” But since the 1980s, as other nations pulled ahead of the U.S. in scholastic performance, the primary objective of educators has become literacy and numeracy. In Canada too, says Neufeld, “we have lost our culture. Our society is far more concerned that you perform. Schools will always drift to outcome-based things.”

[Related reading: Inside your teenager’s scary brain]

That’s partly why a “culture of disrespect” has sprouted in North America. As kids have become less attached to and influenced by the adults in their lives, same-age peers have come to matter more to them. It’s a theme in Neufeld’s book, Hold On to Your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More Than Peers, co-authored by Dr. Gabor Maté. Young children “are not rational beings,” says Neufeld. Part of growing up is testing boundaries; little ones, by their very nature, can’t be relied on to hold each other accountable—nor should they.

“Kids are not born knowing right from wrong,” says Sax, pointing to longitudinal studies showing that children who are left to discover right from wrong on their own are more likely to have negative outcomes in the future: “That child in their late 20s is much more likely to be anxious, depressed, less likely to be gainfully employed, less likely to be healthy, more likely to be addicted to drugs or alcohol. We now know this,” he says. “Parents who are authoritative have better outcomes, and it’s a larger effect than the effect of race, ethnicity, household income or IQ.”

Mothers in a park. (Tyler Olson/Shutterstock)

With stakes so high, authoritative parenting would seem imperative. But there is a psychological hurdle that people will have to overcome first, says Nair: “How to respect their child but also be the decider” of the family. Part of the challenge lies in the fact that parents don’t want to fail—at nurturing and governing simultaneously—and they certainly don’t want their children to fail in their personal development, in school and at social networking. These worries feed off each other in the minds of parents; that’s why parents second-guess the way they speak to their kids, what they feed them, how they discipline them and what activities they permit.

This is all the more true for the growing number of parents who delayed having children until they were “ready” with a secure job, a good home and a dependable partner. “People purposely wait so they can nail it,” says Bria Shantz, a 35-year-old mother of two in Vancouver. “That creates even more pressure. They want to get this perfect.” Shantz is, in fact, the daughter of Neufeld, and she has called upon him for advice or reassurance. That Shantz, who has a leading child psychologist in her family, one who helped raise her, can still occasionally succumb to parental insecurity, says everything about its potency: “There’s this slight panic. You want to do everything right,” she says. “Nothing prepares you for how much you want it to go well.”

So as soon as parents conceive, they begin amassing a library of books on how to deal with the fantastic chaos about to enter their lives in the form of a baby; the collection grows with each developmental stage. They subscribe to online newsletters and smartphone apps that alert them on milestones their children should reach by a certain age. From the outset, parents are tracking how quickly their child is growing, how much they are achieving. For every expert a parent consults by phone or in person, they’re also checking in with the virtual wise man, Google. That almost never helps.

There is no parental concern too obscure not to have an online group devoted to it. Shantz is part of one focused on “baby-wearing” because she’s trying to decide whether a “wrap” or a “ring sling” would be better for her nine-month-old. “It’s the weirdest site to be on. You see posts and you feel guilty because [parents] are carrying their babies everywhere, doing all these things, having this connection.” And yet Shantz hasn’t been able to delete herself from the group, even though she keeps meaning to; nor has she been able to pick between a wrap or sling.

That pull and push moms and dads feel­—between caring about how other parents are raising their kids while rejecting the constant comparisons—defines this generation of parents for better and worse. Katie Hurley, a psychotherapist in Los Angeles and author of The Happy Kid Handbook: How to Raise Joyful Children in a Stressful World, says, “We’ve been conditioned to question ourselves—to constantly look for information to make sure we’re doing it right. Because of that, parents are in a state of learned helplessness.” [tweet this]

So what are people supposed to do? The answer is so basic that at first it might seem unsatisfying: For starters, says Hurley, realize that “nobody knows what they’re doing when they leave the hospital with an infant. Every parent learns by trial and error”—every year of their child’s life, and with every child they raise. That’s as true today as it ever was, and parents who recognize this will shed some guilt and anxiety. Building on this idea, Nair says that parents must “have a higher tolerance for things not going well.” How they recover from their own occasional mistake, outburst, loss of patience or bad call may say more to a child than how they are in happy times. “We’re missing that opportunity, which is how learning works,” she says. “That’s how we become more confident.”

A significant portion of Sax’s book is devoted to the importance of parents modelling traits they want to encourage in their children. Chief among them, he says, should be humility and conscientiousness—which run counter to inflating a child’s self-esteem and sense of entitlement. To that end, he encourages parents to fortify their adult relationships so they are not overly concerned with pleasing their kids as a way of satisfying their own need for affection. Neufeld also urges parents, including his own adult children, to establish a network of surrogate caregivers—relatives, neighbours, daycare workers—who will not undermine their authority but back them up when they need help.

And invariably, they will. “Parenting is awfully frustrating and often a lonely place,” says Neufeld, especially when a child misbehaves. In those moments, he recommends parents reassure kids that their relationship isn’t broken. “When parents realize that they are their children’s best bet, it challenges them to their own maturity.” It gives them the confidence that they know what’s good for their kids, and that they should stand up to them—this is, in fact, an act of love required of parents. They become, in effect, the grown-ups their children need.

[sevenbates]

Petulance & Firepower

You probably noticed this week that we've got a pretty big problem with a sizable number of people in this country thumbing their nose at the safety of their fellow Americans. It might make you question how they can think this way. How they reached their conclusions.

You're probably curious why they're acting like angry, petulant children who want unfettered access to their toys, regardless of how sensible people are trying to explain that it's dangerous.

Well, that's not a caricature of your friends and family. That's an accurate description, and if you want to know how they reached this point in their reasoning, look no further than the shared sense of resentment and bitterness you find in every one of them.

Do you think they woke up this morning, hoping their neighbors would be shot and killed? Do you think these friends of yours who quote gun lobby rhetoric, started the day off with hopes that Americans would be murdered?

Of course they don't.

Your gun-loving friends and family are normal people. They're not mentally deranged, and they're likely not immoral sociopaths either.

What they are, however, are spoiled brats. Like many who dig in their heels, because they want something and they resent anyone who suggests they shouldn't have it, they've completely disregarded empirical evidence, reason, and logic - because they have become emotionally invested in a delusional lie.

People do some pretty dumb things when they believe in untrue things. We're all susceptible to this. Every one of us is capable of buying into something and seeing enough people around us agreeing with it, that we think it's a valid position.

America is a country that pioneered a great experiment of liberty. For most of our history, we were the bleeding edge when it came to discussions about what a democracy can be, and how it can serve society. By the end of the 20th century however, we were eating the dust of numerous other democracies who'd taken our first steps and traveled much further when it comes to things like serving society and protecting it.

Just that statement alone stings a lot of people. It just sort of chaps their ass to suggest that we're not #1 at everything. Learning to accept that we might make mistakes and that those mistakes might be because we were very emotional and biased, is something that requires intellect and compassion.

It's something most of your friends and family are fully capable of, but you're going to have to speak to them about this if you want to see change. Continuing to hope the story blows over, like the last dozen or so mass shootings, puts the blood of the victims on your hands as well.

We can't remain silent and just hope that this is something that gets fixed when a bunch of old people die off. This is a challenge for *our* generation. It's an important one, so we should take it seriously. No, it won't be comfortable. Yet, it needs to be done anyway.

"If it is to be, it is up to me."

Those other countries I mentioned before? It's most of the democracies on Earth. We are the odd man out. Most other countries have figured out how to limit gun deaths, without completely banning firearms. We really have, and it's not because their cultures are different, or because their populations are smaller, or any other nonsensical idea that doesn't hold up to scrutiny.

Regardless of the boogeyman rhetoric that gets tossed around in our neck of the woods, these countries were able to provide their citizens with a fraction of the gun deaths, and they don't have jackbooted stormtroopers in the streets. They've just got a de-escalated weapons market.

How were they able to limit access to certain firearms for civilians, and yet still maintain robust sport shooting communities and home defense firearm ownership? What's different for them? Why is this still a problem for us?

The difference between America and those other countries is that those other countries are perfectly fine with learning from somebody else's mistakes. We really don't like doing that. We're #1.

So it's important to keep in mind as you speak to your friends and family about this topic, that they are driven by some motivations that are tangled up with their sense of nationalism and pride. Suggesting we can do something better, is to imply that we aren't the best at something already and that really doesn't sit well with people who have *need* for this.

Think of the people I'm speaking about. Think about how they live. Think about the music they listen to. Think about the clothes they wear, the stickers they put on the back of their vehicles, the memes they share on social media, and think about the heroes they worship. Look at the patterns.

These are people who have an emotional need for America to be the best. They come from families with investment in the greatness of this country. When they talk, they reference "good old days" Many wistfully yearn for an era in our history when they felt things were so much "simpler". You'll hear them regularly complaining that we've never tried their ideas fully before. You'll hear them say we've only half-assed it.

Think about these people in your life. Think about how much they can't stand complicated solutions; how they avoid problems that aren't going to provide them with an immediate, emotional satisfaction by flipping a switch.

Embracing the complicated, and putting yourself in someone else's shoes, is not easy to do. Regardless of your background or education level, this is a challenge for most human beings.

Your gun loving friends have the extra problem of an entire industry, manufacturing baloney to support their delusional ideas. It's literally beneficial for them to stoke this fire, and keep your friends and family scared, buying ammo and building a subculture to belong to.

FBI crime data is black and white. Interpol crime data is black and white. There is no conjecture about the numbers. Other countries that allow their citizens to own long rifles and shotguns, but limit civilian access to handguns, have virtually no gun crime compared to us.

On average, America suffers 10,000 - 13,000 gun deaths a year. These are people who were murdered, I don't count suicides in this statistic, just people killed in gun crimes. Most other countries, even when you adjust for their population sizes, barely reach a small fraction of our numbers.

Some countries have taken this even further. They've limited all firearm access for citizens, and they have their own unique set of statistics. I'm personally not a fan of this approach, and chances are you won't like that approach either, but be prepared to be accused of wanting to take all the guns.

Like you, I've grown tired of defending the FBI or Interpol because people just can't accept the truth, kicking and screaming as you try to drag them near it just to read. The validity of your data is irrelevant to people who are emotionally incapable of accepting the the truth.

It is for these people that I am speaking to you today.

Understand that your friends who are emotionally invested in this topic, can usually only reach a point of rationality if they have a strong emotional reason to divest themselves from their position.

Often it takes grim realization to snap out of a delusion. The nonsensical idea that only "good guys with guns can stop bad guys with guns" was eroded for numerous gun-rights activists at this music festival in Vegas over the weekend.

Josh Abbot, musician who played on the stage a few hours before the shooting, was present for the carnage:

“I’ve been a proponent of the 2nd amendment my entire life. Until the events of last night. I cannot express how wrong I was. We actually have members of our crew with [Concealed Handgun Licenses], and legal firearms on the bus. They were useless.

We couldn’t touch them for fear police might think we were part of the massacre and shoot us. A small group (or one man) laid waste to a city with dedicated, fearless police officers desperately trying to help, because of access to an insane amount of firepower.

Enough is enough." - Josh Abbot

Josh Abbott is a good human being, just like your friends and family. He simply needed a gruesome familiarity with how useless and impotent civilian firearm ownership is in situations like this. Make no mistake, there were numerous "good guys with guns" on hand for this massacre.

It doesn't matter how many videos you've watched of Rambo wannabes shooting would-be robbers in 7-11s across this country. They still only account for a small proportion of the 1% of all justified gun deaths. This delusional fantasy of becoming the hero, only fuels this unhealthy mindset anyway. It's such a tiny number of people yet such a large number of us want to have the opportunity, or at least not be denied it.

Then, like Abbott, you weigh the suffering of others versus your desire for a thing. Clarity comes to those who care.

When I moved to California from Texas, I disliked not having access to the fireworks I grew up with. I wanted to shoot Roman candles and teach my children how to celebrate Independence Day the way I did. These were family traditions that have been passed down for years. They were important to me. I couldn't even Envision a 4th of July without them. It felt like I was having my America taken from me. Seriously. I was morose about it.

Of course I trusted myself and my extensive training with pyrotechnics. Of course I knew that I took the time to inform myself of the proper safety procedures necessary to be a law-abiding fireworks user.

I was very resentful all my neighbors who couldn't be trusted to not burn down our neighborhoods. We live in a tinderbox and many of my neighbors have wooden roofs. Of course the state of California imposed restrictions on shooting ignited things in the air. Of course they limited our access to the things I wanted most.

And of course I was begrudgingly willing to accept a limitation on the fireworks that fly through the air, because the safety of the people around me is more important than my petulant desire to have this thing that I feel I'm entitled to, as a law-abiding American.

You bet your ass I was resentful and upset about it. You bet I bitched about it. You bet your ass that it saves lives and you know what, it doesn't make my family traditions any less real or meaningful to my children.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, much like it's difficult to accept that civilians shouldn't have unfettered access to firearms.

Should all firearms be banned? Of course not. There aren't really any sizable number of people who want everyone to have all of our guns taken away. Just remember however, your friends and family are under the impression that there are.

See, the gun lobby has even been able to personify their Boogeyman. They've been able to manufacture a caricature of a liberal who wants to *take* things from "Real Americans™" like the rest of us.

There's a preposterous sense of entitlement and resentment that is shared by everyone of the people that keep making these bogus arguments. They are convinced they know better than you, and the reason they don't care about your data is because they think the deaths don't matter.

Sure they're sickened by it, but they don't think that the 10,000 deaths a year warrant any kind of action, or that they're a result of their inaction. See, they live in a bubble much like the one Abbott had before this weekend. They were convinced that the Second Amendment acts like a blanket statement for all firearm ownership.

They are wrong. It is your job to explain to them why being wrong about this doesn't mean that they're bad people, or that they're stupid.

It's on you to give them the facts and figures, till you're blue in the face, and never stop, so that eventually they come to the conclusion *on their own* because they are now informed, rather than misinformed.

Chances are it'll take a while for them to digest the truth. Just understand that this tragedy isn't going away. The fact that we ignored when children were shot in an elementary school might make you cynical, but stick to it anyway.

You can't really pass laws that prevent premeditated mass murders. Even though they're more frequent than ever, mass shootings are actually very uncommon. Maybe 12 to 40 people a year are killed in this manner. Year after year over 10,000 people are killed in crimes of passion with guns.

These are the altercations that explode, turf wars for gang activity, and domestic violence that escalate into someone grabbing a gun (handgun over 90% of the time) and shooting someone else out of anger. This is where nearly all of our gun deaths come from. We bring up these 10,000 victim's every time a mass shooting happens because it's the only time we can even get the conversation started again.

So if your friends and family are complaining that it's not the right time to discuss reasonable and sensible gun laws, ignore their bullshit and press on. Sensible things like mandatory insurance, annual registrations, inspections, mental health screenings, and pragmatic solutions like scaling back prohibition to cripple the criminal black market, need to be considered.

Mass shootings are a symptom of our gun culture problem, but as alarming as this might sound, they are a tiny threat to our safety compared to the dangers that kill 10,000 people who die a year from gun crimes that happen right next to us.

We have the ability to implement restrictions on firearms that make it so crimes of passion can't escalate into a death toll that's 200 times what happened in Vegas.

We can actually roll back the Wild West just enough so that our numbers decrease and become more like the numbers in countries where people just aren't shooting each other like we do. Countries that don't have as much criminal recidivism. Countries that care about their citizens. Countries that abandoned the idea that a room with everybody carrying a weapon, is an objectively safer room for everyone to be in.

Suggesting that handguns should be limited in numbers for civilian ownership isn't a gun ban any more than speed limits are a ban on cars. Suggesting we get our guns registered and inspected like we do our cars, is not a gun ban. Talking about all of the sensible ideas we can try first might help you a little, but be prepared for them flipping out on you when you suggest that less access is better.

Be firm. Don't give up. Just remember that we are as responsible for those deaths as all the gun rights people, because this is a democracy. We share responsibility just as much as we share and success with one another.

America can do better. We can work together and overcome our own weaknesses. History books are full of examples of us doing this. You're not alone, and you're on the right side of history.

#guns #vegas #lasvegas #stephen paddock #gun crime #gun control #compassion

[britishdelirium]

This rap is lyrically one of the best things ever written. Sit back, listen and read these lyrics.

[Verse 1: Akala] Yes, I grew up on the dole in a single parent family Been through a little bit of tragedy Yes I was around drugs and violence before the day that I started secondary And that’s part of it not half of it, get the picture, the rest ain’t necessary Growing up, got a little caught up, but that ain’t even half of my life Also given the knowledge of self That is all we actually need to survive If you saw me aged 9, reading Malcolm just fine Teachers still treated me stupid Students that couldn’t speak English, they put me in groups with And the irony is some of the first man to give me schooling You would call gangsters but I already explained, we know what the truth is They used to say ‘Don’t be like me’ Yeah I got a name and dough on the street Night time comes, I can’t sleep And that’s the part that rappers don’t speak We don’t hit the road cos we are thugs Don’t come out the womb, wanting to sell drugs If we got the right guidance and love Would we fight people just like us? How could I knock the hustle to get by? How do you think I ate as a child? Judge no one, done many things wrong I just don’t boast about it songs But listen to my older bars I was just as confused as you probably are But you grow and you learn, travel and fuck up One too many man you know get cut up One too many man that could’ve been doctors End up spending their whole life boxed up You learn, if you study Its all set out just to make them money No cover, it’s all about getting poor people to fight with one another So its logical that us killing our brothers, dissing our mothers Is right in line with the dominant philosophy of our time But time is a cycle, not a line Comes back around you regain your mind You be ready for the energy I channel in my rhymes Remedy the pedigree, the jeopardy of mine When the world’s this f***ed up, lethargy’s a crime We can all fight with our brothers over crumbs Far harder to fight the one who makes guns We can all talk sh** and get two dollars Far harder to be the one who seeks knowledge If we understood economics We’d know money’s nothin’ Think nothing of it Money is a means to get wealth, not the wealth itself Don’t get confused, I’m far from broke All that you see me do I own But I won’t hang what I make around my neck I know from where that the diamonds came But I do quite literally own a library That definitely costs more than your chain And businesses, and properties Far from starvin’, I eat quite properly And I don’t care, just said it for the kids Who need to know that you’re not broke to listen Don’t know an asset from a liability They’ve never been shown or told the difference So they don’t change situations Richest man in Britain is Asian That’s significant, not coincidence Asian people build businesses Not by flossin/going out shoppin’ Giving out their culture for everyone’s profit Who run’s Bollywood? Indian people Who owns our shit? So we shake our arse and dance As if racism just upped and vanished But has it? No its right on course You’re beaten so bad, you’re trained to ignore Let me not just make sweeping statements Gimme a second, I’ll explain it For small amounts of drug possession there’s more black people in jail in America than there is for rape and armed robbery and murder all put together You can say they’re just locking up thugs Imagine if they locked up every middle class kid that had ever held drugs Oh that’s right, that’d be your kids! Bigger than that what is going on with this Prison in America’s a private business They get paid 50k per year per inmate by the State, just wait… Also legally are allowed to use their prison inmates as slaves Cheap slave labour, big corporations They come out of jail, can’t get a job So when we celebrate going to jail We are LITERALLY CELEBRATING ENSLAVEMENT Add to that, that the hood that you’re livin’ Engineered social condition that breeds crime by design Where do you think you get your nine? You can say that they’re just black But I like to deal with facts In the 1920s you would’ve found in America Black towns Prospering centres of economics and education to make you proud But some people couldn’t bear that the former slaves would not just lie down So the KKK and other hate groups burnt those towns to the ground Killin hundreds If it ain’t understood You think you were always livin’ in the hood? Shit it’s only been sixty years Since they hung blacks and burned em’ And that was so cool They were your pastors’ picnic baskets Even gave kids the day off school To go see a lynching, have a picnic It’s fun to watch the little monkeys die Then people act a little dysfunctional You wanna pretend that you don’t know why If your colour means you can be killed And you’re powerless to get justice about it Is it difficult to figure out how you would then end up feelin’ about it? And that ain’t excuses Just dealing with the roots of abuses that make a reality Where a generation of young men speak of ourselves as dirt casually That’s America This Britain Some things are similar Some different In this country the first enslaved were the working class What’s changed? Worst jobs, worst conditions Worst taxed, look where you’re livin’ You go to the pub, Friday night You will fight with a guy, don’t know what for But won’t fight with a guy, suit and a tie Who sends your kids to die in a war They don’t send the kids of the rich or politicians It’s your kids, the poor British That they send to go die in a foreign land For these wars you don’t understand Yeah they say that you’re British And that lovely patriotism they feed ya But in reality you have more in common with immigrants Than with your leaders I know, both side of my family Black and white are fed ghetto mentality Reality in this system Poor people are dirt regardless of shade But with that said Let’s not pretend that everything is the same When our grandparents came here to Britain If you had a criminal record you couldn’t get in Yet that ain’t protect them from all the stupid, stupid abuses they would be livin’ Kicked in the teeth, stabbed in the street Many times fired bombed our houses Put faeces through our letter box And of course the cops did so much about it(!) Daily, up to the 80s People spittin’ into my pram cos’ I was a coon baby But of course that has had no effect on why today we are crazy And none of this was for any good reason They were just dark and breathing To ease the guilt now for all of this treatment Constant stereotypes are needed So if I celebrate how big that my dick is, bricks that I’m flippin’ Clips that I’m stickin’, chicks that I’m hittin’, I’m playing my position But if I teach a kid to be a mathematician, messin’ with the schism How they gonna fill a prison when materialism is nothing but a religion? What do you think we got now in Britain? Just like America, private prisons Prisons for profit! That mean when your kids go jail people make money off it So keep environments that breed crime Build more jails at the same time Market badness to the kids in the rhymes As long as rich kids ain’t dying its fine! Get em’ to the point where some are so lost They actually believe that if they don’t celebrate killin’ themselves off That it’s because they’re soft Was Malcolm soft? Was Marley soft? Tell me was Marcus Garvey soft? Well? Was Mohammed Ali soft? Nah, Nah I think not! But they want us to think that the road is cool Being on road is all we can do We don’t control the wholesale productions Who benefits from us movin’ the food? Or thinking there’s no way out of road life But Malcolm X used to hustle out on the roadside When Marcus Garvey organised more than 6million people With no Facebook or Twitter Why is this something you cannot equal? Shiiiiit! One of my homeboys did a ten straight in the box in yard Now what’s he doing? Passin’ his doctorate Don’t tell me that it’s too hard! Who trained you to believe that you’re inferior? Sungbo Eredo in Nigeria are the remains of an ancient moat Dug 1000 years ago 20 metres wide, 70 down Round the remains of an ancient town That’s 400 square miles around 400 square miles around Please, please don’t believe me It was a documentary on BBC! But we ain’t studyin’ history Too busy watching MTV And MTV said wear platinum Now everybody wanna go and wear platinum And MTV said pop magnums Now everybody wanna go and pop magnums If MTV said drink prune juice You would start hearing that in tunes soon ‘Hey! Today I wore my Cartier Is it now more important what I got to say?’ Oh and I drive a Mercedes by the way So everybody listen to what I got to say Huh, does that make you all happy? Ahh but shit my head’s still nappy Think for myself, still some mad at me But on the mic ain’t not one bad as me All of this here’s good for the rhymes Put us in the same place at the same time And it’s clear to everybody that I’m out of my mind Some of these guys are runnin’ out of their rhymes Clear to everybody that has got ears I’m the guy that they just might fear They wanna get near but they can’t have a peer Ah dear I’m hard liquor you’re just like beer Front on the kid for another five years Come to my shows and some cry tears It mean that much to em’, it’s a movement! I don’t speak for myself but a unit Black, white, man, woman, anyone that respects truth we put in Dudes are like no dinner with just puddin’ Yeah you’re sweet but no substance puddin’ You could never ever be with a level on Our songs get out played out there in Lebanon We speak for the people properly Not for the old fat guys in offices And the girls love him, it ain’t fair He can’t even be bothered to comb his hair Anyway that’s enough kissin’ my own arse Back to the more important task of being so shower I got half the hood screaming “KNOWLEDGE IS POWER” And I ain’t saying that will change rap But I do know this for a fact Right now there’s a yout’ on your block With his hand on his cock and his face screwed up Swear he don’t care, don’t give a fuck That he won’t let nobody call his bluff But the words go in Open up your chakra Because once that’s happened there’s no going back Once you start to see what is really happening Who the enemy you should be attackin’ is So READ, READ, READ! Stuck on the block, READ, READ! Sittin’ in the box, READ, READ! Don’t let them say what you can achieve Cos when people are enslaved One of the first things they do is stop them reading Cos’ it is well understood that intelligent people will take their freedom Cos’ if we knew our power we would understand that we can’t be held down If we knew our power, we would not elevate not one of these clowns If we knew our power, we wouldn’t get arrogant when we get two pennies If we knew our power, we would see what everybody sees, that we’re rich already! But never mind MCs go run for your mummy I’m hungry, I run for my tummy That’s enough, back to worshipping money I’m off, back to the study!

#akala #fire in the booth part 1

[visionaryconnector-blog]

Gone, but Not Off Track

So, it has been a little over a week since my last post, and while I have been gone, it is not because I forgot, but rather it is because I was set to travel a lot and I knew that I would gain something interesting insights, and hopefully things you’d all care to read about. This entry is going to be about the process of meeting with school and community officials, the impact of some of the rhetoric that I hear, my concerns about how social justice is negatively effecting students of color in secondary education, and a potential dissertation topic I’m considering...oh yeah, I’m going to get a Ph.D. 

Meeting Schools and Community Officials

It will never cease to amaze me how little information people actually need to be persuaded, and that isn’t always a good thing. I have traveled a lot of places, and met a lot of people and I have learned one important reality already: people are just grasping at anything they can to support minority youth in Minnesota...well almost anything...because their curriculum, cultural approach to educating them, focusing on building true competency in their teachers, having an administration that reflects their goals, and garnering community support aren’t on this list of “we tried everything” in some of the communities I have traveled to. (Steps Off of Soapbox)  Anyway, I wanted to give you all my approach to interacting with people and increasing their likelihood of saying “yes” when I come to pitch the program to them. When I arrive, I make sure to get a sense of how people are feeling, in my last meeting, I met some delightful people in a Western Suburb of Minneapolis, they seemed to really care about the students, and as a whole were among the most honest about the failures of the state of Minnesota (the state the requires the most credentials for school administrators) to educate non-white students. The numbers are so abysmal, that one has only three options: 1. Own it, 2. Blame someone else, 3. Denial (what failure?). They, however, were refreshing and seemed genuinely interested in finding ways to help the students. 

So, I begin my meeting introductions, myself, my role, and my goals. At this time, I also take the time for thanking them for taking their time to meet with me (and I am actually grateful because I need them to get my work done). I outline to them that I will not begin with selling my program, I would rather begin with a set of questions that will help me get a sense of what they are already doing, how their school functions, the make up of their community, and their school and community attitudes toward outside help, and particularly from the University of Minnesota. Once I meticulously compile what they tell me, I thank them and then restate what they said (in a conversational way - I’m not selling vacuums after all). I do this, usually by commenting on something I really loved, or asking for clarification to signal to them that I listened and understand what they are saying. 

I then begin to discuss the program, but I speak about how the program can serve the areas that they discussed and make connections without hitting the landmines. Following that, I give them a vision for where I would like this to go, about my sincerity to serve their students and support the work that they are doing for the kids that are most underserved. At this point, I have them, how could I not? I affirmed them, and then pledged to use my time and resources to help them with no additional cost, and a minimal time commitment outside of helping me to set it up and vertically integrate into the district. We set our timetable to meet again, what tasks we will do next, and I set a time to reconvene because that is just needed. 

The Rhetoric 

Ok, so for the most part this blog has been pretty cordial and academic...I will be taking a different approach on this section. I’m going to be much more of myself, and if you know me and we’ve had these conversations, you know exactly what I mean. 

Black Role Models and African American boys and Young Men

At times when I have conversations in this area, I feel like I’m transported back to the late 1990s and early 2000s. I hear phrases like “African America males aren’t succeeding because they don’t have black male roles models,” and I smile and nod and then think BULL****! While I recognize the importance of role models, people don’t recognize that making that statement is the attempt to blame the victim for their own victim hood. It’s a circular argument that doesn’t question the root of that problem. 

Everyday I drive past the road Philando Castile was murdered on, that man from all reports was an upstanding man in the community, he was doing what he was asked, and was still killed by a police officer (who has been charged with a slew of crimes stemming from that shooting), the man isn’t present to be a role model by not choice of his own. We can see over and over, there are perfectly acceptable men that we gloss over everyday because we want to have sizzle; we want to project that success looks like this. So these communities walk past the black construction worker, and they come to me with my tie and sweater vest and master’s degree and say we need more like you. Except, I was raised by a garbage man and a church administrator. These were the people that they didn’t look for. Anyway, I say all of this to say that the “lack” of success of African American boys and young men still has a lot to do with a putative education system, horrific distribution of wealth that (by the most recent numbers) shows black people make between $45k to $230k less over their life time of working (even with the same credentials and skills as white people). Their success is rooted in a school system that sees them as a problem to solve, and views them as so “other” that they do not take the kind of care to help them that is necessary for basic development. 

I am not insinuating that there are not areas that black men could contribute, but these notion that we are to blame solely for the failure of our boys is a tragedy in that we are as much effected by the same forces as they are. 

The “Achievement Gap” 

I have already heard this more times than my stomach wants to, this is one of the most ridiculous things that I have to listen to everyday. Minnesota is REALLY good at education...if you’re white, and in bottom of the bottom when it comes to students of color. Naturally, instead of taking any responsibility for an educational system that obvious has a cultural limitation, we say the minoritized people just not “achieving” the same. Whether or not anyone wants to admit it, that is an insidious BLAME THE VICTIM statement. These students aren’t scoring where we want them to be, so it must be a problem with them; but no not REALLY wants to investigate a problem that has such uniform outcomes. 

There is a discussion about a thing called the “belief gap” the idea that teachers and administrators don’t fundamentally believe minoritized kids can be successful, so they don’t invest in them in the ways that bring out their best potential. This is a possible culprit, but I actually think it may be something more subtle than that, and I will discuss that later...yet, I did just give you a cliff hanger so that you’ll still read.

Wrapping up the Rhetoric

I could go on for days, but I won’t, I am frustrated to no end by the fact that I feel like I went back in time and we are having conversations that demand respectability politics. I have spoken to so many African American men that want the boys to get hair cuts and wear suits and they launch projects to “show people a different image of black men.” I shake my head, we just watched probably the objectively most respectable black man that we could have collectively known in Barack Obama be ridiculed, and heckled for 8 years as the PRESIDENT: respectability isn’t going to save them. 

I indent to take my OneWin message anywhere people are willing to hear it, we have to re-center ourselves in our own narrative. We cannot continue to allow the perceptions (or fears of perceptions of others) cause us to spend the majority of our time trying to convince white folks of our value, when we can just be convinced of our value and allow them to deal with their own feelings about us. At some point, if we want to change this situation, our rhetoric has to change. They can achieve just fine, there are enough black men to be role models, and we need to stop this impetus to make them more respectable and just teach them how to respect themselves. 

Social Justice: How Discussing Privilege is a Privilege

“White guilt is still more valuable to some than the lives and opportunities of our children...but hey...they can just chalk it up to their achievement gap and lack of role models, instead of seeing how white kids are not routinely subject to being held hostage in intellectual disputes about why teachers have to treat them like people.”

I have been watching how the discussion of privilege is all the rage. In my higher ed circles, the “check your privilege” movements and such are happening. Now, I won’t argue that it’s important to educate people on privilege but that appears to be where most folks stop, and well, that’s a privilege. lol 

Why do I say that? Because discussing privilege is important, and getting people to understand that is important, but it is literally tearing the St. Paul school district a part of because people were just walking around feeling like they were racist, but were not engaged in any tangible way to begin to address the issues. Now, the people doing these trainings aren’t usually people of color, and whether or not people will admit it, the “big time” diversity trainer are almost always queer white women, and no one wants to have a discussion about how how conversations about other people are not the same as having conversations WITH those people. Anyway, this privilege movement, making sure every white person knew they were privileged has resulted in resentment toward people of color...because you know, that makes sense. 

What is even more kind of...um...idiotic about all of it, is that we have one of the foremost scholars in the world related to culturally responsive education here at the University of Minnesota (another reason why respectability doesn’t work) a minoritized professor is a foremost scholar on something that could solve a massive problem...nah...we’ll just resent kids instead.

The long and short of it is, Social Justice folks need to begin to find a way to add some teeth and real scholarship and tangible outcomes to their trainings (I am speaking to this specific context), because it is literally resulting in fractured futures for children because white guilt is still more valuable to some than the lives and opportunities of our children...but hey...they can just chalk it up to their achievement gap and lack of role models, instead of seeing how white kids are not routinely subject to being held hostage in intellectual disputes about why teachers have to treat them like people.��

I’m Getting a Ph.D. 

So, that leads me into my dissertation topic...I’m thinking of looking at these sorts of rifts and to see if they exist in predominantly white communities. I am so intrigued now by the question as to whether white kid’s lives and educations are routinely caught in the middle of intellectual squabbling over their personhood. 

I am going to pursue a Ph.D. in Executive Organizational Leadership, Development, and Policy. 

[iblackgirlanonymousblog]

Growing up, I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I never questioned it. Ever. I may not have always believed in it because I was too busy listening to everyone else trying to live their dreams through me, but I’ve always had a passion for it. Sure, we don’t get paid for the amount of work we do. People don’t really think we work for real anyway. But I feel that real teachers, teachers that actually have a passion for this, don’t look for the monetary reward. But they get the benefit from the lightbulb that goes off when I child can finally connect the dots to their own learning.

I’m from the south, so African-American kids have always been the minority. Fast forward to now. I live in ________ and the minority is Hispanic. Talk about a culture shock. I was offered a temporary position at a school that I wasn’t too familiar with but I needed a job and I was excited to see what else was out there. I came to realize that the minority in my area of _____ were pretty similar to the minority that I’m used to. Needless to say, I fell in love with the school. The only negative: I was the only Black teacher. No seriously. I’m not even exaggerating. I was the only black teacher and I looked around, and I could literally count all the black students on my left hand. I honestly had too many fingers. I didn’t let it bother me. My work speaks for its self, and not to toot my own horn, regardless of the grade, I know what I’m doing. My work speaks for itself.

I knew I was becoming a big deal when teachers would go out of their way to know me. When I first got there, teachers would kinda give me dirty looks and weren’t that friendly. Which was fine. I didn’t come out there to make friends. Especially not with them. But as the administration started paying attention, the other teachers started to notice that as well. Friendly teachers I mean nosey teachers. Constantly trying to pry into my business, asking me questions like they were my home-girls. Oh! And I forgot to mention I was natural. So the questions about my hair were nonstop. It’s like they would ask me questions that they had been waiting their WHOLE life to ask me. Like I was the one to speak for all Black women. Too bad they didn’t know I wasn’t friendly. I would troll them just for pure enjoyment.

My team was Kindergarten. I loved the students! I loved the parents. It was different for me. These kids wanted to learn. They tried HARD. It was almost like their parents gave them a pep talk each day before school to let them know that they HAD to make it. The parents are SO supportive. Nothing that I’ve ever seen. Which was helpful in making those relationships with them. I went along with it enjoyed every bit of it. But my constant question was, “Why are these other teachers so mean?”. No, seriously. The way that these white teachers would talk about these students was disgusting. So upsetting to the point that I refused to eat in the teacher’s lounge. That was like the hang out for teachers to bash the students. I don’t care to talk about students in that manner. Especially if I haven’t taken the time to really talk to the student to develop that relationship with them. How dare them?! How dare you as an educator talk down on a student? How dare you discuss to other teachers about how lazy this child is? You have the audacity to talk bad about a student and make their potential future teacher dread having them in their classroom. No one forced you into the field of education. NO ONE. You could’ve been anything you wanted to be, but this is what you chose. Last week, there was a really big protest going on where a lot of people were standing up against some of the ridiculous immigration actions that have currently been going on. Can you believe that they were upset that students were upset because their parents decided to take them to the protest?! “I don’t see what the point is? Walking isn’t going to help him learn his sight words!” “She needs to be in school! How can her parents do something like this?” “What are they possibly going to learn by walking all day?” And those were just a few of the statements that were made. Crazy, huh? You’re mad because the child is standing up for their people. Their parents are opening their eyes at an early age to the world around them, and you’re angry about it? Do you know what it’s like to be afraid to be alive? To be afraid that your parents might not be able to make it without you because you’re the only person in the household who can read and write in English? You don’t. You live in this perfect bubble. A police car can pull you over and you can catch an attitude with them and get off with a warning. Some of these kids don’t even have a car to ride in. They immediately get looked down on for no reason at all. You walk into a room and feel entitled to whatever someone is offering.  Tragic when you think about it, because from the beginning, your ancestors haven’t really worked for anything. They stole everything. So in actuality, when you clutch your purse around someone who looks nothing like you, they should actually be doing the same thing.

I have YET to work in a school environment where everyone is on the same accord. It truly sucks. Since the start of my teaching career, I’ve always wanted to work in lower income schools. I personally feel that they need the most attention. I don’t think I could EVER do an uppity, private school with privileged students and “helicopter” parents that try to watch over your every move and critique you about how to teach a room full of 5 year olds when they have no idea what it really takes. I’m needed in the schools that no one wants to step foot in. The schools where everyone on the outside has something bad to say. Through my experience, those students are the ones that need love the most. From the disruptive student who constantly lashes out because his parents are constantly working to make ends meet and he knows that this is his only chance to really get attention from anyone. To the students who is looked down on for sleeping in class because he was up all night taking care of his baby sister because they share a room and the only way he’ll get sleep is if she’s sleep first. I want it. They need that love. Understanding. Not to say they don’t get it at home. But when they come to school, they should be able to leave home, at home. I don’t claim to wear a cape.  But I do want to make a difference. And to all the teachers who look down on those students who may not look like you, or think the way you do, quit.

- S.C. of BGA

#black history month #blackgirlanonymous #blackteachers #educators #caring #love #children #students #racisim #bga