#if you specifically want to try a German one - I just googled it and apparently Walmart has Ritter Sport.

[footy-fictionist]

Injury prone part 2 - Nico Schlotterbeck

Pairing: Nico Schlotterbeck x female reader

Warnings: Nico's injury for the Bayern game, it's emotional, there is some anxiousness/fear, Nico is being a bit of an ass, hurt, but also fluff, bit of ignoring, shower scene but nothing sexual, google translated German

Word count: 1421 Note: As always, English is not my first language. I don't know anyone personally, this is completely fictional. Let me know if there are any mistakes. I love this one really. Please do not copy or publish my work, reblogging is fine!

She’s scared. It’s plain and simple. She feels like they rushed him, that he rushed himself to be ready for the game against Dortmund. Thigh injuries always take a while to recover from, but Nico was back within a week and half. She knows that it won’t end well, she can feel it. But he didn’t want to listen to her. He feels like he is ready or he wants to be ready. The game against Bayern is important and there is no way he wants to miss it. They have talked about it, but it only ended up being an argument. They even argued just before he left for Munich and still, she’s decided to be in the stands.

It starts off well in the first 10 minutes and then everything seems to go wrong. It makes her more anxious and worried for Nico. He’ll want to give more everytime they concede a goal. And her fears become reality around the 40 minute mark. Nico sits on the ground with a defeated look on his face. She knows it’s his thigh, there isn’t anything else that could go wrong so quickly. The medical team approaches and as they have a look at his thigh, Nico leans back and covers his face with his hands. And they both know it’s over, not just for the game but for a few more weeks as well.

They wrap his thigh, but there is no way he can continue the game. As he’s subbed off, she has tears in her eyes. She knew it was more than likely that it would happen, but that doesn’t make the pain she feels for him any less. He walks into the tunnels of the Allianz Arena and she hates that she can’t go there as easily as she could at the Westfalen stadium. She heads down to the dressing rooms during halftime. But when she gets there, they tell her that he doesn’t want to see anyone, not even her. The bit where he apparently told them specifically not to let her in, breaks her heart. As if she’d ever tell him ‘I told you so’ when he gets an injury like this. As if she wouldn’t support him through anything.

She goes back to her seat in the stands and watches the rest of the game. But nothing really registers. As the game ends, she sees a showered Nico walk onto the field with the rest of the team to thank the fans. He sees her in her seat still, but the second they make eye contact, he looks away again. It causes her eyes to fill up with tears. She grabs her bag and leaves the stadium, not even bothering to try and get to the changing rooms again. He clearly didn’t want to see her or talk to her. She drives to her hotel, since there is no way she’s driving home for 6 hours when it’s 8 pm. It’s almost midnight when she gets a text, saying he won’t be coming to her hotel room tonight. It’s safe to say she cried herself to sleep that night. 

The next day, she drives home. When she gets home she doesn’t really feel like doing much. It’s a sunday anyways, so she changes into comfortable clothes and just lays in bed. She thinks over what she could have done differently, the tears starting up again. If it’s the argument about him playing, then she won’t know how to fix that. She just told him her opinion and it showed her worry for him. She can’t just change those feelings. Eventually she gets up to make some food, not even bothering to fix her appearance. She can feel how tight her face is because of the dried tears, but she can’t be bothered to fix it. She just makes it to the kitchen when she hears the front door open and close. 

She hears a bag drop to the floor, but she doesn’t make a move to walk to the front door. She hears Nico call her name whilst she grabs a drink from the fridge. She again chooses not to respond, even if that makes her feel bad. She’s not in the mood for another argument, especially not after crying half the night and just now. She’s so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn’t hear Nico approach her. She’s dressed in one of his shirts and some shorts, it’s clear she hasn’t done much during the day and yet she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

She turns a bit, still unaware that Nico is behind her, when he sees the remnants of tears on her cheeks. And he knows it’s his fault, he was ashamed of not listening to her about his injury and then making it worse. Now he’s ashamed of the way he didn’t even dare to go to her. He should have known that she’d be more worried than anything else. He’s going to fix it. He slowly walks up to her and she turns when he’s 2 steps away from her. She jumps a little, not having expected him. He steps closer and puts his hands on her cheeks, softly caressing over the dried tears with his thumbs. She leans into the hold of his hands and then a sob escapes her.

Nico doesn’t hesitate to wrap her in his arms. Her arms wrap around his waist whilst fisting his shirt. Sobs wrack through her and Nico can’t stop shushing her and pressing kisses to her temple and cheeks. 

“Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. I should’ve come to you. I was ashamed, you were right and I didn’t listen to you. Now I’ve only made the injury worse.”

“Nein, es tut mir leid. For the arguments before the game. Clearly I didn’t show you how much I care and that you don’t have to feel ashamed around me.” 

Nico only pulls her closer as they talk it out. He doesn’t feel like letting her go. Everything is catching up with him. The arguments, his injury, the pain he’s caused her, as well as himself. A weight lifts off of both their chests as they talk it out. Once everything has been said, Nico buries his face in her hair, whilst her face is buried in his chest. He’s quite comfortable, standing there with her, when she pulls away. He’s confused when she takes his arm and pulls him with her slowly. They reach the bathroom and he knows immediately what she wants. It’s nothing sexual, on the contrary, the shower is the place she feels comfortable. 

They both undress and she turns on the shower. She still holds his hand, not letting go of him for a second. Once the water has warmed up they step under the shower. He pulls her close to him as she wraps her arms back around his waist. He presses soft kisses to her forehead, whilst she caresses his back. They just stand there for a while, appreciating each other’s presence. They wash each other's hair, making sure the other feels loved and cared for. Before getting out, they share a few soft kisses. 

After they step out, they dry off, helping each other with the parts that are harder to dry on their own. They change into comfortable clothes and she is the one that climbs into bed first. She opens her arms and he immediately climbs into bed with her. He lays on top of her as she runs her hand through his short hair. He completely relaxes and that’s when he really feels the throb in his thigh. She sees his face scrunch up a bit and she immediately moves so she can lift his leg up a bit with hers. It helps alleviate the throb in his leg and he lets out a sigh in relief. He presses a kiss to her collarbone in appreciation.

“I’ll take care of you, always.”

It makes him a little emotional. He knows that he can always count on her and he feels stupid for his actions from before. It’s like she can read his thoughts, as she presses butterfly kisses all over his face and neck. She makes him forget all about it, just by showing him how much she loves him and how she will always support him. No matter how stupid his decisions might be at times. She loves him unconditionally, the same way he loves her.

Es tut mir leid, meine liebe: I am sorry, my love Nein, es tut mir leid: No, I am sorry

#nico schlotterbeck x reader #nico schlotterbeck x female reader #nico schlotterbeck imagine #nico schlotterbeck one shot #nico schlotterbeck fanfic #football imagine #football imagines #football one shot

[langernameohnebedeutung]

I'm just curious, is there an American you'd ever want to try? I've heard so many good things about German chocolate, I hope to have some one of these days

now, personally, I like to think that Americans would taste just the same as the people I eat around here :)

#(gjhgfj I just wasn't sure whether you meant American -food- in general or sweets/chocolate specifically-) #if food in general then I'd really like to try an authentic southern chili or a real bbq bc what we get here is An Attempt at best #also at the risk of committing more pizza-related anti-Italian hate-crimes on this website this week: #but I'd really like to try a typical New York and a typical Chicago pizza. Just to get an opinion in on that one. #also the chicago pizza looks actually interesting #also I know it's Mexican food but I always really really wanted to try Taco-Bell. :( #but I heard there are some restaurants in other Euro countries now so I imagine it's only a matter of time until we get them. #but generally I think you get a lot more spicy food over there and since I love spicy stuff that would be something I'd definitely enjoy #if you meant sweets specifically I'm not sure I can think of any specifically bc we actually get more and more American candy #plus we have some small English/American shops nearby and they sell American candy so I've tried quite a lot of it. #Oh our local supermarket now has Hershey bars which I really liked so that's one point for American chocolate! #a friend of mine brought me a box rainbow nerds back from his Florida vacation and it was much too sweet for both of us #so I'm gonna give anything in that direction a no #we even now get all kinds of cookie-dough stuff which was something I missed for a long time #hmm...as far as chocolate goes I'd recommend Toblerone. It's Swiss not German but tbh I prefer the Swiss chocolate. #and they're available worldwide AND cheap AND I assume they take their recipe quite seriously. So it should be authentic. #(I just checked and apparently you can get it at Walmart) #if you specifically want to try a German one - I just googled it and apparently Walmart has Ritter Sport. #They have a lot more variety than Toblerone though so that would be trial and error) #so yeah I think it mostly would be ... general cuisines and kinds of dishes I'd like to try than specific food items #nonfandom #personal #Oh Belgian chocolate is also pretty good! I was going to recommend Belgian Fruits de mer (chocolates that look like mussles) #so I just googled it to see if you can easily get them over there #but the wikipedia article specifically mentions that they're very local and quote-unquote: #Copycat products are sold at German discount stores #so I guess that means I've never actually had authentic fruits de mer. BUT! the knock-offs are great.

[pardonnemonfrancais]

Why do I make the same mistake with my non-European friends over and over again? or How can we be better at intercultural communication by starting to be better friends. (An illustrated tale).

Yesterday, out of sudden curiosity, I asked a question, to my Chinese friend, about censure in China. She answered patiently and then manifested a disappointment. I made her upset, and I didn’t understand why. 

She was expressing her love for certain bookshops in Beijing, filled with cats and interesting books; all this wrapped in a nice atmosphere. Me? I put on my western shoes, and step into this conversation by bringing the censure question, which was unrelated to the whole subject. It’s not the first time we talk about censure, so what is the issue?

“It's hard to show the rest of the world that we're not just what you read in your media.”

She told me. And this sentence resonated in me, and brought back memories.

Let’s rewind here.

This story is the first that made me question myself on this matter. I was in the wrong but couldn’t understand why.

How I once asked my Turkish friend if he had a birthday date. 

2017 - Erasmus - Spain.

My German roommate's dad is from Turkey. She explains that he doesn’t know the real date of his birthday. So on his ID card, 1st of January is written as the official birth date. She says it’s the case for many Germans that are born Turkish. I think “oh, that’s a curious fact about Turkish people that I didn’t know of”.

Of course, as a journalist student, full of curiosity, interest, and other adjectives we all relentlessly repeat during interviews, I HAVE TO ask the first and only Turkish person I know: he is cool, he is my friend, I met him between 2 vino riojas; he’ll tell me for sure. 

“What kind of persons do you think we are in Turkey?”

Oops.

“Of course, I have a birth date! I am born.”

 Why is he so mad?, I think. I am just interested in his culture!

I am angry at the idea I can be seen as offensive. I just followed the motto “He who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; he who does not ask a question remains a fool forever.” (I don’t have the author, apparently it is a chines proverb but I don’t want to make false assumptions).

I learned later that the birthday anecdote was true for some immigrants that had to run away from their country while not having access to their birth records. 

What happened? I thought I was conversing and exchanging about culture. But I ended up just making a condescending —because ignoring— commentary about his parent country. And I could have prevented it by using this magnificent tool called Google.

What happened exactly here ?

First, I heard a specificity about someone, and I made it a generality for the whole people. And the thing is, it’s not the first time someone asked him something like that.

Second, I assumed it was his role to educate me about his country while he has to listen to stereotypes about it every day. And not nice stereotypes like “you eat baguette and frogs”.

Turkish people seem to be already dealing with a lot of our ignorance.

I attended classes of intercultural communication during my bachelor years. The theory is nice but it’s not the real deal. You can know and read everything about Edward Hall; it is nothing in comparison to experiencing it.

We need to admit we are this biased creatures, influenced by the western world culture, knighted by the all-mighty occidental point of view.

I know that. I learned about it. I met people. How come I make the same mistakes over and over again? 

I don’t have the answer, but I can try to prevent the next mistakes.

The Turkish story is a bit different than the Chinese one. But they are both about one thing : the constant need for comparison between two realities, instead of underlying what unites them.

You can talk about censure with your Chinese friend. Well, you can talk about everything with your friends of course. And you should. But you can also enjoy your time together from time to time without playing at Amnesty International undercover super-agent. 

As much as we want to think the Internet makes us kings of the world, seated on our thrones of knowledge, we cannot know accurately about a reality somewhere unless we live there for quite a time. Thus, we don’t know the questions that are worth raising, we don’t know what our friends had been experimenting, all the questions they already heard before.

My Chinese friend used these words, that pretty much sum up the whole idea of this text. When I asked questions about the book censure, she told me she was sad to constantly hear that kind of thought “as if we were subnormal and have no idea about the world.”

Of course the best way to learn is to go see places and visit your friends.

Though we can’t see the world through their eyes, we can try to put on their glasses on our noses sometimes. How so?

First, yes, questions are good. It’s not a reason to treat them like your search engine or smart speaker. Ask but also listen. I assure you, the best conversations, the most surprising facts, the deepest exchanges, I had them by going with the flow, by trusting the process of a casual conversation.

If you are really interested in their country, and if you can’t visit right away, know that they will bring most of the topic worth the discussion by themselves, just like you do with your own country.

(It is not a moral lecture here; I am mainly talking to myself. (Well, I am literally seated at a coffee shop alone, writing my thoughts, so I guess that makes me pretty much talking to myself.))

Finally, let’s talk about the the real lesson of all that: when the discussion is about cats, why would you change it ? What a waste.

#n #intercultural communication #culture differences #china #turkey #france #erasmus #western world #european culture #asia #american culture #edward hall please help me #cats #bookshops #beijing #world news #world #friendship #international friendship #citizen of the world

[galloperthompson]

Regarding Galloper Thompson’s clothes

Including his (slutty, thigh high) boots

It’s been brought to my attention that galloper’s slutty thigh high boots actually look like ankle boots with the thigh high part tucked into the boot. So I’ve decided to go beyond my jokes about him being a slut anyways and make this post going over his clothes. And buckle up folks, it gets long.

I’ll be honest, it’s pretty difficult to find details about 13th century (and 12th century) Scandinavian life specifically, especially since I’m using google. For this post, I have just used general European fashion, but in the future I’ll be mixing viking things with general European things from this time (but I’ll mostly try to keep the general European things to German and English/Irish stuff). I’ll also be referencing things from both the 13th century and the 12th century, since galloper “lived” during the early 13th century (and every website seems to think the 13th century started in 1250).

But anyways, an English knight from the mid 13th century apparently wore something like this on his bottom half (underneath other layers):

Now as you can see in this terrible quality picture (sorry about that, but I did try to label it), the hose are thigh high just like galloper’s leg coverings, which is what gave me the idea that maybe it’s hose he’s wearing. So let’s begin.

I would explain the whole system they used, but this does it better than I could (you only need to read until it starts talking about chausses since we’re only talking about the hose). The linked text is a bit weird and may (or may not) be unreliable, but it’s compact, explains things well, and has pictures (it’s where I got that *stunning* photo I labeled). However, keep in mind that it depicts a mid 13th century English knight, and galloper is from early 13th century Scandinavia, so while there may be similarities, there’s also definitely differences in how he would’ve dressed. Braies were apparently longer in the first half of the 13th century, for one, and didn’t really become “underwear” for everyone until the second half and later. Hose were also referred to as stockings, and apparently hose and stockings didn’t really refer to different things until later on. Additionally, clothing differed between class, but we’re not going to go over that today.

So how does this relate to galloper? Well his lower half actually sort of resembles the picture above, doesn’t it? His “hose” are thigh high, with ankle high shoes over them, just like the picture. Despite the similarities, though, there are differences. His “hose” aren’t pointed, and so there are no ties for them. Apparently, hose didn’t have to be pointed, and those thigh high hose that weren’t pointed were held up with pins.. but there are no pins to hold them up either. Without one of these mechanisms to hold up the hose, they would not stay in place. And considering we can see where the thigh high part ends, we should also be able to see at least part of what’s holding them up. The thigh high part could also theoretically be “leg bandages” that extend above the knee. However, his “hose” don’t look like wrapped or crisscrossed cloth, they look solid, so leg bandages are unlikely.

Now, I wanted to present hose as an explanation based (somewhat) in history, but I don’t actually think he’s wearing hose. We’ll go over why later in this post, but let’s keep going for now.

On to his tunic and coat. Well I say tunic, really it isn’t a tunic by medieval standards. Back in the 13th century, tunics didn’t have buttons—at least not on the front. And his coat.. well it’s not something you’d find in the 13th century. Longer coverings, down to the knee or lower, were the style then. Shorter coverings with buttons down the front didn’t appear until the 14th century in the form of things like doublets. Those “things” were usually very padded and form-fitting, however, and neither galloper’s shirt or coat seem to be padded or exceedingly form-fitting at all.

The history of gloves (in everyday wear, at least) is surprisingly complex, so I won’t be touching his gloves. I’m also ignoring his belt because I don’t have much to say on it, but they did have leather belts with “single-looped” buckles (whatever that means) in the 12th and 13th centuries.

Moving on to his cape. Ah yes, his tattered little cape (which matches his mare’s tattered little saddle blanket!). Who knows why the fuck he wears it. There doesn’t seem to be a hood (like the medieval chaperon) or a part that comes around to cover the shoulders, and it’s too short to be a cloak. My best guess is that it was a design choice based on the fact that such a short cape doesn’t need a fluttering animation. Why not axe (lol) the whole idea of a cape? Well, all the coolest characters have capes!

His weird ass shoulder pad I can’t come up with an explanation for, though (or at least a medieval one). If he had a neck, the shoulder pad would be digging into it based on the position. Maybe it’s supposed to be like those shoulder pads with tassels on some formal military uniforms (technically “epaulettes” with “fringe”)? Except instead of tassels it’s feather looking things and also there’s only one shoulder pad for some reason?

All of this is to say that none of what he’s wearing can realistically pass for 13th century clothing, except maybe his lower half, and that’s still stretching it.

His entire outfit actually most resembles military uniforms from the 18th and early 19th centuries, as @inkowl13 pointed out in this post. When he floats, you can even clearly see his tattered coattails, which are his trademark green on the underside. In the case of 18th century garb, his shirt would be a waistcoat (he doesn’t seem to be wearing an 18th century shirt underneath his “waistcoat” at all, but maybe we just can’t see it or distinguish it from his “waistcoat”), and his jacket-thing would be a uniformed soldier’s coat. His lower half would be breeches with either a. ankle boots and over-the-knee stockings, b. ankle boots and thigh high gaiters (those things with buttons that go over the top of the shoe), or c. thigh high boots, which appeared as riding boots in the 15th century and remained common until the 19th century—including in military uniforms (in fact, some cavalry units today still use them in their ceremonial dress uniforms). His shoulder pad would, in fact, be a strange attempt at an epaulet/epaulette (which were used in the 18th century (and beyond) to denote rank) with fringe the color of his trademark green. The fact that there’s only one also makes sense within this period; whether the epaulet/epaulette was on the right, left, or both shoulders indicated rank (Galloper’s “epaulet/epaulette” is on his right shoulder, our left). The issue of glove history is also eliminated since it seems military uniforms in the 1700s made use of gloves. Men’s capes/cloaks at this time went to the knee or below it, so my explanation for his cape is unchanged. Through this lens, things start to become clear.

This is a mannequin (is that what you call the fake models of historical clothing? does mannequin apply in this context?) wearing an 18th century cavalry uniform:

As you can see, he looks incredibly similar to galloper, despite the many differences.

And these are two sets of 18th century soldiers (again, sorry for the less than ideal quality):

On the left there’s a pair of soldiers with over-the-knee boots and on the right there’s a pair with over-the-knee gaiters (see how they go over their shoes). Thigh high boots would make more sense for a horseman, but thigh high gaiters would explain some things about his lower half, like how his boots and the thigh high part are different colors. However, there are no buttons on the sides (like gaiters have) or garters at the knee (like both stockings and gaiters had), and the thigh high part is tucked into the shoe, more like stockings rather than gaiters. In these pictures you can also see how his upper half looks incredibly similar to all four soldiers, again, even with the differences.

Now, unless galloper was keeping up with fashion until the 18th century when he stopped (he gave up I guess? said “fuck that shit” and hasn’t changed clothes for the past 300 years?), he shouldn’t be wearing an 18th century military uniform. Especially since he was shown wearing the same clothes in his execution scene (which I don’t put too much stake in considering the Jarl was in his ghost form and even the soul riders don’t have 2 sets of clothes in game).

So why does he look like this, then? The reason why he looks like a revolutionary war soldier can be traced back to the inspiration used for his design. According to Jorvikipedia, his “...design takes direct inspiration from author Washington Irving’s Headless Horseman from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow...” which explains why he looks the way he does. Jorvikipedia has been wrong before (they list his place of birth as “Jorvik (presumably)” which doesn’t fit with his backstory), but if Galloper’s design was based on the headless horseman of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (which it very likely was), it would provide justification for the 18th century look of his clothes. Washington Irving’s horseman was, after all, (alleged to be) killed during the revolutionary war in the 18th century.

It’s obvious his upper half is based on 18th century uniform, but the intention behind his lower half remains a mystery. Whether it’s meant to be stockings, gaiters, or boots, I don’t know. Theoretically, his lower half could even have been intended to be hose, braies, and shoes. But considering his entire look and the inspiration behind his design, an 18th century explanation seems more likely (I just don’t know which 18th century explanation, exactly). It would be pretty strange if half of him was medieval and the other half was from the revolutionary war era. Though, I’ll admit, it’s not completely impossible.

My theory for the contradiction between his design and his backstory is that his backstory came after his design. The 18th century look of him, along with his inspiration, and the lack of medieval elements in his design all make a compelling case for this theory. The only thing I can think of that may disprove it is his mare’s y-shaped bridle, but even that could be explained if she was designed after galloper, while his backstory was in its first stages of development (I’ll probably do another post on his horse’s tack, since this post is already long, but that’s for another day). But that’s just a theory; the star stable team could very well have just not done any research on 13th century attire, instead modeling his look on depictions of Irving’s headless horseman and adding the bridle as an indication of the origin they had already established for him.

Ok, but what about the rest? The other parts of his and his mare’s designs (color scheme, hanging pumpkin jack-o-lanterns) can be attributed to the fact that he is the halloween event character. Though his color scheme could be inspired by the headless horseman in World of Warcraft, who was introduced in 2007 (I found out about this horseman while looking into other possible inspirations for galloper’s design), all the colors seen on him and his mare (black, green, red, orange) are general Halloween colors. The hanging jack-o-lanterns are not historically accurate for the Middle Ages (or the revolutionary war era, actually) as pumpkins were not introduced into Europe until Columbus “discovered” the Americas, and did not become commonly carved into jack-o-lanterns until the 19th century in America -which was when and where “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was published (though the pumpkin “head” was not even carved in the original story). I suppose galloper could have developed an affinity for pumpkins (and for carving them) later on (Jorvik seems to have a lot of them), but it’s more likely that they added them (to the keep and his mare’s design) based on modern halloween practices instead of historical halloweens or consideration of galloper’s feelings on pumpkins.

Ok, so we’ve established he’s not historically accurate for the 13th century, but what would his clothes look like if they were actually historically accurate? The answer is: I don’t know! Maybe I’ll do another google deep dive and make a post on that, but for now we’ve come to the end.

All of my information about historical clothing came from sorting out google results, so take the historical bits with a hefty grain of salt (more like a bowl of salt actually). If you have any actual knowledge about history, please feel free to correct me.

#i am planning on doing more of these little deep dives into what life was like back then #a large chunk of this post is a bit of a mess but oh well #sso #star stable #star stable online #galloper thompson #gunnar thrymson #tagging this #googling history #separate from the ‘me overthinking’ tag

[what-even-is-thiss]

Just for kicks I went to the Trump merch store to hold a few thousand dollars of MAGA hats hostage in my cart for a few hours to make them lose a few cents because I’m a good facist-hating American Citizen that bleeds red white and blue and while I was there I couldn’t help but notice that they had “Polish Americans for Trump” merchandise.

“Did they have any other European Ethnic groups?” you may reasonably ask. And the answer is, no. Not really. I mean there was some St. Patrick’s day stuff still on there in June but nothing specifically about being Irish-American. And you’d think they’d have like Irish or Italian or Baltic or something, because like those were historically working class immigrant groups that have worked factory jobs and Trump’s whole thing is that he wants to bring manufacturing jobs back even though that wouldn’t actually create more jobs because of increasing strides made in factory automation in the past few decades?

But no. He’s just trying to make merch for the Polish Americans specifically. Now, I’m not Polish culturally. I’m Scandinavian and German. However, I like anyone else that’s gotten super into researching their own heritage knows that when heritage that specific is being used to sell you something that isn’t traditional food or clothing or something similar, you should probably look into it.

And look into it I did, and holy heck you guys. I fell down a rabbit hole that I was lucky to climb out of. Long story short though, apparently a lot of swing states have very large populations of Americans with Polish ancestry. And surprise surprise, a lot of them caught fourth generation white immigrant syndrome and believe in Reaganomics now. And if all that weren’t already a lot there was a dude that was important in the Polish community (I don’t know for sure because most of their newspapers are in Polish and I was already slipping too far into this rabbit hole to start bringing Google translate into bed with us) that said Trump “wouldn’t win without the Polish vote”

And at this point I am just staring at the screen because nobody ever taught me how to pronounce Polish names and I can’t believe that Trump has been trying very hard to win the love of this very specific white ethnic group since about uhhh 2016? And nobody in any of my circles ever noticed? What else in this world am I missing?

Oh also there was pride merch on the Trump merch store and I think if I ever saw one of those Trump MAGA hats in rainbow colors in person I would buy a coffee for the express purpose of throwing it on that hat. I did not like it.

Anyways I’m 22 now. How did the first 30 minutes of my personal New Year go? Not great. I spent a good portion of it beating myself up over never learning how to pronounce Polish names.

#roman said a thing #trump mention

[spatort]

I’m at my parents’ house and I have too much time on my hands apparently, so it’s time for a trip down memory lane! More specifically, a trip into the weird world of 1990s for-profit teen idol RPF, such as this beauty:

No, I did not find this at my parents’ house, I bought it second-hand specifically in order to make this post because I’m a person who enjoys studying fan culture in her free time. So, if you’re wondering what the hell the monstrosity pictured above is, and why it exists, don’t worry, I’m about to answer that question extensively.

LONG (AND HOPEFULLY FUN & INTERESTING) POST UNDER THE CUT

Let’s start with a bit of history: In the pre-internet era, fan culture differed from today in a few key regards. Although fanfiction existed, without the internet it was much harder for fans to share their stories with each other. Large fandoms such as Star Trek did have fanzines where fanfic could be printed, but all in all it was a much more niche thing than it is today with millions of fics accessible on AO3.

Fan culture in general, however, was a big thing in the 90s – particularly when it came to pop acts that appealed to teen (and tween) audiences, such as the Backstreet Boys, the Spice Girls, or (mostly in Europe) the Kelly Family. When I was in elementary school, you basically had to pick whether you were a BSB or an NSYNC fan – and god forbid you were a Kelly fan like me, then you were the lowest rung on the social ladder and the target of relentless mockery. Like many German kids in the 90s, me and my sister would religiously read teen magazine BRAVO, cut out every single bit of material about our faves and collect them in folders and self-made fanzines. We created fan art and fanfiction without having words for these things. Without the internet and social media, fans did not have a constant stream of content about their idols, and were left with no other choice but to cling to every bit of information they could find in magazines, on TV shows, or on the radio.

Enter a savvy businessperson who comes up with the perfect merchandise product to sell to these popstar-obsessed teens: fan novels! These books, featuring taglines such as ‘The novel for all Backstreet Boys fans’, typically revolved around a relatable female teenage protagonist who is a fan of the celebrity or music group in question, and usually ends up meeting their idol or, gasp, even becoming romantically involved with them. As far as themes go, they look pretty much exactly like your classic self-insert RPF. Except there is a big difference setting these books apart from ‘actual’ fanfiction: Rather than being written by real fans to express their ‘fannish’ feelings about the subject, fan novels were most likely commissioned works created by professional romance authors purely to profit off of actual fans. There is very little background information available about this ‘genre’, but I did stumble across an academic work on Google Books which featured a passage about these fan novels (translated into English by me):

There are several commissioned works by professional authors, which could be mistaken for fanfiction. Especially in the 1990s, when lots of boy bands were on the market, many books of this kind were published. […] These are fictional stories for fans [redacted].

Jennie Hermann: Backstreet Girl. Projektionsfläche Popstar - Wenn der Fan zum Schriftsteller wird (2009) [Popstar as Projection Surface – When fans become writers]

One of the things I find most intriguing about this type of commercially published fanfiction is the question of personal rights. Obviously, the celebs in question or their management must have consented to using their names in the story, their pictures on the cover and so on – because a profit could be made with this. Especially with the fan debate around RPF allegely being unethical, I wonder if the celebrities themselves were aware someone was writing these stories about them, putting words in their mouth, and if they had any clue what exactly happened in these novels. Now, I’ve read a couple of them in my own youth. Some of them deal mostly with the state of being a fan, e.g. I recall a novel about a girl who is so obsessed with Leonardo Di Caprio that she doesn’t pay attention to real life guys at all, only to learn that her actual dream boy has been in her life all along! This story did not feature Di Caprio himself as a character, it was more about the protagonist’s arc of realizing your idols are not all that matters in life. Others do describe fan encounters with teen idols, and some even feature (hints at) romance with a celebrity. When I decided to purchase a vintage copy of one of these books, I opted for one of the latter category, precisely because of the popular argument that writing romance stories featuring real people is somehow ‘wrong’. For only a couple of euros, I was able to get my hands on a weird and wonderful relic of fan culture: Mein Frühling mit Nick (My spring with Nick) by the likely pseudonymous Maxi Keller, heralded on the book cover as ‘the novel for all fans of the Backstreet Boys’.

The story revolves around 16-year-old musical prodigy and designated wallflower Katharina, who lives in a German small town and cares about nothing else than playing the organ – certainly not about boys, let alone ones that are super-famous American pop stars. This means she is not initially a fan of the Backstreet Boys, which I guess is something of a trope itself – the protagonist meeting a celebrity by chance without knowing who they are and the celeb being thrilled that someone doesn’t just like them for their fame. Anyway, the boys visit Katharina’s hometown while on tour in Germany because band member AJ is doing some research on his German ancestors who happened to live in this very town. Katharina runs into them, she and Nick (who was only 17 himself when this was published in 1997, so it’s legal) fall in love at first sight, she helps them dig up information on AJ’s ancestors and finds out the two of them are related, the boys invite Katharina and her friend Saskia backstage after their show and … nothing happens. The book is 200 pages long and Katharina doesn’t even get one kiss with her boy band sweetheart, even though they mutually crush on each other right away. Perhaps that’s as far as the band or their management agreed for the novel to go – a hint at romance, but no trace of any on-page action, no matter how innocent.

That said, the book is so hilariously poorly written that it was still very entertaining to read. Although I could not find out anything about the author Maxi Keller, and therefore assume this might be a pseudonym, their writing style very much suggests that their are a professional romance author who usually writes for an older audience (plus, the book was published by Bastei Lübbe, who also publish a range of cheap romance novels known as ‘Romanhefte’). The language is extremely flowery at times, and even teenage characters speak with an eloquence that is hardly age-appropriate, with some 90s teen slang peppered in at unfitting times (such as the overuse of the English word ‘girl’). Often the novel loses itself in pointless detail that does nothing to move the plot forward (such as an extensive description of a house party hosted by Saskia’s rich parents, with minute details of their luxurious lifestyle and assets, even though Saskia is only a supporting character in the overall plot). It appears as if the author is desperately trying to fill the pages with meaningless drivel so they don’t need to write too many scenes featuring the presumed main attraction, the boys themselves.

If Keller was indeed merely hired to write this, and is not a fan themselves, one must still admit that the author did their research when it comes to the band. Whereas fanfiction typically assumes that the audience is already familiar with the characters and often skips any introductory descriptions of their appearance or personality, Keller makes sure that even a reader who is completely unfamiliar with the Backstreet Boys can keep up. The author delivers extensive descriptions of the boys’ appearance and demeanor, even spelling out their full names repeatedly, and frequently peppers in ‘fun facts’ such as ‘Kevin was raised on a farm in Kentucky’. While an actual fan might do so to prove how knowledgeable they are, and earning their status as a ‘true fan’, in this case it only seems like Keller really wants to show off how much research they did – as if not a single piece of information they took in must go to waste by not being used in the novel.

When it comes to the question how realistically the non-fannish author replicates the way the boys act and speak, there are two barriers to delivering a well-founded answer: Firstly, I was personally very young when BSB were popular and I really don’t remember too well what each member was like. Secondly, the elephant in the room: the language barrier. All of the aforementioned fan novels were written in German, and the problems posed by writing about an English-speaking band interacting with German OCs (and teenage ones at that) are addressed poorly, if at all. Pretty much all dialogue is written in German, and the audience is left to assume that everyone is actually speaking English whenever the boys are involved – except the novel does nothing to explain why two 16-year-old German girls would be able to express themselves so effortlessly in a foreign language. (Remember, the internet was not a thing, so German kids were not exposed to the same amount of English in everyday life as they are these days.) It would have been easy to make one of them a language nerd who gets straight A’s in English class, and give the other a British parent and make them bilingual. Instead, Katharina initially even worries about the prospect of having to talk to boys at all, and in English on top of that! But when she actually does, the language barrier never comes up again. The suspension of disbelief expected from the reader is therefore immense. The language barrier also gives the author an easy way out when it comes to imitating the way the boys speak in real life – there is no need to take into account idiolects or regional differences (such as ‘you guys’ vs. ‘y’all’) if the boys’ speech is essentially translated into a foreign language. However, I wanted to give you guys (or y’all, if you will) a taste of how Keller attempts to write a scene where AJ and Nick discuss the latter’s crush on Katharina:

I would argue that this sounds realistic enough for what it’s worth, if a little cheesy, which is excusable in this genre. Perhaps a true 90s BSB fan would beg to differ, so if you happen to be one, feel free to drop me a message. But in my semi-professional opinion, this most likely holds up for readers.

So, to answer the initial question that drove me to purchase this book: Do fan novels like Mein Frühling mit Nick count as fanfiction?

If we assume that something is only a fanfic if the author themselves is a fan of the subject matter, then I would argue no, Maxi Keller is probably not a fan themselves and therefore this work of for-profit real-person fiction does not qualify as fanfic. However, fan novels definitely have a (however small) place in the history of fan culture and fan-adjacent works, and I personally found reading this relic both entertaining and insightful!

#fanfiction #fanfic #backstreet boys #nick carter #german stuff

[emberdune]

i have been tagged by a certain @corpsechic thank you lmao

nickname(s): cant think of any 

zodiac: cancer

height: around 177 or so, i dont know its different every time. 

last movie: finally watched Akira. it was pretty nice, i really liked the color palette  i feel like here i should share what sort of philosophical enlightenment it brought me but im not much of a thinker these days, it was entertaining i guess?

last thing i googled: “spider solitaire” lmao i never understood what that game was about when i was a kid but now i get it. i can only manage it in the easiest mode tho. 

fave musician(s): i used to really like early arcade fire and early portugal the man and sigur ros. nowadays? idk. i dont listen to much music anymore, sadly. 

song stuck in my head: this song of a french dude talking about eating pussy, or at least that’s what i think he’s talking about. to be honest i dont really understand what exactly he’s talking about but french songs are Just. Like. That sometimes. that or i really need to get better at this language because i am lost. i tried looking for explanations online but to no avail and its too embarrassing to ask anyone to explain lmao. it is kind of catchy i guess??? 

other blogs: uhhh i have blog for my film photos 

blogs following: 401 

amount of sleep: who even knows these days amirite? defnitely not a healthy amount that’s for sure

lucky number: 69 ? lmao idk i should get myself a lucky number some time

what i’m wearing: bathrobe

dream job: hmm i havent thought about that. ill try and find something. maybe by process of elimination. not an office job. not full-time. ideally something you do with your hands. i think this needs more thinking some other time, my brain’s blank atm 

dream trip: probably iceland. maybe finland? the people seem nice there. i think it would be nice to just do a little road trip with a little hiking and a lot of laughing with your little found family one day. aotearoa definitely, but i cant ever imagine flying that far.

fave foods: idk if its the brain that constantly needs stimulants thing but im really into sweet stuff. that said, a silly thing about me is that i dont ever try new food by myself, so i’m liable to eat only the things i know if im not put into situations where i discover new food. all of which is to say: i dont really know what i like, plus what i usually eat i just.. eat. you know. im neutral about it. i feel like all the answers are just repeating now 😔 

play an instrument: not really. i really want to learn to play piano but its just a lot of discipline that i dont have yet. my classmates in middle school all used to play some instrument or other. they’re a very successful band now apparently. i used to hang out with them during their garage rehearsals and they’d hype me up to join them on some instrument and i’d try and just 🧍 yknow

languages: oh i really like learning languages or rather learning about languages, maybe. anyway there’s my mother tongue that i’m gradually losing (girl help), then there’s russian that i’m rapidly losing, and im ok in french and english i guess. i used to be really good at them but yknow. entropy. i’ve been meaning to properly learn german for a few years now but i never get around to it. 

fave songs: the entire “hospice” album by the antlers, specifically “shiva” but all songs are good. fair warning tho, its just super sad. other than that i’m really blanking out. i should really listen to more music, old or otherwise. it’s embarrassing

random fact about me: it’s been a while but little kids in public really like approaching me for some reason, cats do the same thing sometimes. also i am or at least i used to be really good at calming down little crying babies (also drunk men). havent met any recently so i dont know if that is still true though

describe yourself by aesthetic things: not gonna lie i dont know what this means. if i have an aesthetic it’s sméagol 🤷‍♀️

thanks for the questions, it was kinda grounding tbh. in a good way 

im tagging @rotsward but only if you feel like it 

#is it too obvious im not doing well rn lmao #sorry for the super bland answers

[grayintogreen]

I was not technically tagged, but at least two people on my dash were like DO WHAT YOU WANT NO ONE IS YOUR GOD, and you know what? They’re right and valid. 

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

96! And 90% of them are from just this year. Can’t wait to find out what the big 100 is gonna be. Any one of my WIPS could be Disney’s next 100th fic.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

455,024 (also mostly from this year...)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In my entire life??? Since I was twelve??? I don’t even know, man. I wrote a lot of ooc crackfic and fic for cartoons when I was on FF.net, and then I was on LJ and wrote for a TON of different fandoms, but on AO3, I have written for Critical Role (so much CR), Yashahime/Inuyasha, Guardians of the Galaxy, His Dark Materials (TV), Steven Universe, Bleach, Alias, Supernatural, Dollhouse, Pushing Daisies (the last four were all transferred here from LJ, though)

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

- turning wine back into water (Critical Role, de-aging fic with plot, 30457 words)

I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE HOW POPULAR THIS FIC IS. It beat out two of my super popular GotG fics that have been up since 2017 BY A LOT. Apparently, there was a market for the Mighty Nein being adorable cocktail brats and saving the world. Thanks, Liam’s Quest!

It is probably one of the most wholesome fics I will ever write too. I love it.

- Sunshine Came Softly (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket and Mantis friendship, 3188 words)

THIS FIC STILL GETS HITS EVEN TODAY. It was written right after I saw the movie so it hit hard and fast on the hype train. 

- Mine Is Just a Slower Sacrifice (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket-centric, 2248 words)

BOY YOU CAN TELL THESE FICS ARE ANCIENT BECAUSE I HADN’T DEVELOPED MY TITLE NICHE YET. where are the lower caps and Seanan McGuire lyrics!!

Anyway, this was written probably IMMEDIATELY after I saw the movie and had to process Rocket’s emotions during the last moments, because of who I am as a person. For what’s mostly a character study, it got some mileage on it.

- they drink dreamers up like brandy (Critical Role, 1625 words)

Back to Critical Role! I wrote this one when I was in a fucking blind post-finale haze and producing massive amounts of Kingsley content and I wanted to write a silly fic about Caleb being tiefling catnip. 

- if adversity breeds character (we’ve character enough for two) (Critical Role, Beau and Molly-centric, 1824 words)

I feel like most of my most kudos-ed CR fics are Beau-related, which is funny because I never really wrote her EVER. I guess I need to write her more often. ANYWAY, this one got jossed immediately after 141, but I needed to write Beau and Molly bantering and I couldn’t get her flipping him off after revealing her card is Rumor out of my head.

(Incidentally my sixth most kudos-ed fic is my Fjorester next gen fic, WHICH I WAS NOT EXPECTING AT ALL. IT’S A FIC BASED ON MY OC FANCHILDREN!! I’M VERY EMOTIONAL ABOUT THAT!!)

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Usually!! There are times when I forget and then it’s been so long that I never go back, but I like responding to comments. They make me so happy and I want to make sure the people who take the time to comment know that I see them and appreciate them. Especially if they give me long comments. You long commenters know who you are and I value you and also flail incoherently in your direction.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, probably this church takes no conversions simply because, like, the whole ending scenes are MISERABLE AND FULL OF ANGST and then it has the hopeful ending that is actually a bullshit lie.

But second place probably goes to what couldn’t i offer, what couldn’t i give, which is just misery porn in disguise as a character study. Sorry, Cree.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Okay, so back in the day when I was a tineh fanbrat I wrote a lot of self-indulgent crossovers featuring my friends and I in true Mary Sue format being ~saviors of the world~ alongside our favorite fictional characters and after I grew out of that, I very rarely did it again, because as someone who can only write AUs if they’re high concept and can only write crossovers if the canon welding is pristine, it’s difficult.

I have ideas for some! I just haven’t written them yet. Or they’re sitting in Google Docs partially written.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not to my recollection, which is insane, because I’ve written some things in my youth that deserved it, but also I was a kid, so maybe I definitely did not deserve it. Don’t send hate to kids!!

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

The first smut I ever posted on AO3 involved some fucking American Gods flesh horror shit, so that answers your second question.

Basically, yes, but I write smut to facilitate character development in a way that regular story beats can’t, mainly with characters who are in some way deeply fucked up and have unbalanced dynamics. 

So basically chances of me writing smut that isn’t Creecien or Lucigast? Very low. (I haven’t written Lucigast smut yet but I will. Inevitably.)

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that anyone’s told me, but one time when I was a teenager someone ripped off an entire group messageboard RP I was in and tried to pass it off as a fic they wrote.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that anyone’s told me!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I tried and it did not work out, because of (non-wanky) reasons, but it’s just not something I’d be very good at. I was the kid who wanted to work alone on group projects. I’m bad at group work.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

That I’ve WRITTEN??? Because that at least narrows it down significantly. Sesshoumaru/Rin hands down. It’s a good dynamic and they’re fun and sad at the same time. 

My self-indulgent ass does also enjoy writing Creecien though. I’m putting it out there because I want it.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

GOD POOR SUPERNOVAS OF ALL SOUND AND LIGHT. THAT FIC COULD’VE BEEN A CONTENDER, but I unfortunately posted it RIGHT BEFORE the White Diamond episodes aired and it became so jossed by canon so fast that I gave up on life with chapter two half finished. I need to delete it but I can’t bring myself to bury my shame.

15) What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and meta-narrative and character-specific stuff. I go into every story with CHARACTER FIRST mentality, which is how I end up writing so many damn character studies or why my word counts explode. I’m just out here naval gazing because I love character stuff SO MUCH.

I’ve been told I’m good at fight/action scenes too, which... Shocks me, but I think watching and playing a lot of D&D stuff has really improved how I write fighting and action sequences.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

[whispers] too much naval gaze. dial it back, bitch. 

I get really caught up in character stuff and forget to do important things like ADVANCE THE SCENE OR DESCRIBE THE SCENE OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. I also don’t think my prose is all that great, but I’m pretty sure every writer feels that imposter syndrome bullshit, so /waves hands. All I’m saying is I have seen some writers on AO3 who are writing some fucking vivid imagery and stringing flawless sentences together and weaving introspection and description together like beautiful baskets and they are stronger than any US Marine and I salute them and wish to be them.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Iiii try not to. There’s times where I want to throw in, like, a little Zemnian for Caleb flair, but I try to stick to things that are either untranslatable (like German compound words), common phrases (like please or come here), or insults/curses/ pet names. Things that I don’t think Google will fucking lie to me about.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was a Sailor Moon crackfic about Haruka being forced to enter a beauty pageant which was just a blatant rip-off of Ms Congeniality and oh my god was it awful. I don’t even wanna talk about it.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this church takes no conversions, probably BECAUSE it’s my little red-headed stepchild of a fic involving so many things that are just never going to make it popular (backstory fic, fic that is almost 85% headcanon, doesn’t involve popular characters, etc.), but godDAMMIT I love that fic so much. It was fun and I use every bit of that headcanon in almost everything like it’s my job.

shattered stage is a close second, because it was such a crazy concept for a fic that I PULLED OFF SOMEHOW and is this wonderful mix of crazy plot and character and lore and my three favorite tieflings having to work together. And also Jayne Merriweather as the main villain. 

A lot of love went into both of those fics and they are my babies. this time next year we’ll see if I add Creedemption and shoot at fate to this list- probably. All of my epic long fics resolve to be my babies because I spent so much time on them, and I have to love them and cherish them because I raised them into gigantic wordy attempts to write a doorstopper.

#writing meme #my writing #shattered stage #this church takes no conversions

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (3)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3800

A/N: My HS German teacher would be so disappointed to discover I used Google Translate. I also actually researched WWII med kits for this.

[New York, New York, March 2024]

You sat at your kitchen counter and admired the ruby ring on your finger. Max had gotten half of what he had pillaged from Anderson’s home, you had even let him have first choice. He also got a third of the million dollars you had earned for the death of Morano. You had also given Izzy one fourth of the million for her troubles.

“What’s next?” Max asked from your couch.

“Nothing.” You stood up and joined your friend on the couches.

“Bitch, what are you saying?” He raised an eyebrow at you. Today’s theme was gold. When he had walked into your apartment, he held up one manicured nail as a warning before you could say anything. “We just had a great haul and you wanna stop before we really get the ball rolling?”

“The Avengers got involved,” you pointed out. “I am not dealing with them.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“They’re heroes set on ridding the world of evil and we literally fucking kill people for a living.”

“Uh-huh. Are you sure you’re not just avoiding someone?” Max laughed.

“I’m sure,” you said with a glare but Max only laughed harder. “What I’m avoiding— Max, shut up. What I’m fucking avoiding is being thrown in jail or even death. You just want to be caught so that you can shoot your shot with a supersoldier.”

“Or the God of Thunder.” He gasped and looked at you with wide eyes. “What if we could be in-laws!” You rolled your eyes and suppressed a smirk. “Hmm. Imagine being dicked down by a god. Well, I doubt you have to imagine.”

“Shut.” You picked up a pillow. “The.” You smacked Max. “Fuck.” Smack! “Up.” Smack!

“How was it? Tell me everything.” He escaped to the loveseat and composed himself.

“Get your fuckin’ head out of the gutter, Max. It was back in the 1500s and I was a princess and princesses don’t just go around getting ‘dicked down’ as you so nicely put it.”

“Damn, sometimes I forget that you were literally the Queen of fucking England.” He cocked his head. “Are you sure you don’t want to see Loki again? From what you told me it sounded like you really loved him and he loved you.”

“I-I never said it, though.” It was true. You loved Loki. You still love Loki. Did he love you too? You were soulmates and you were made for each other, but it had been four hundred and eight-six shitty years since he had last seen you. “Not to mention the awkward situation of having to explain why I’m still alive.”

“Um, that’s easy,” Max said. “It’s just, ‘Oh, Loki,’” he mimicked your voice. “‘It’s me, (Y/N), the one and only love of your life. Surprise! I’m still alive.’”

“That’s not how I sound.” But you couldn’t hide your grin.

“‘I am an Inhuman whose power is to look pretty and live forever.’”

“Your power is very obviously not mimicry.”

“See? Easy,” Max smirked. “I give you full permission to plagiarize my speech.”

“Nuh uh. It’s not plagiarism if I pay you to write my speeches.”

“Honey, what speeches are you making?”

Before you could respond, your phone started ringing. Hardly anyone called you. Could it be the Avengers? It couldn’t be, no matter how good Stark’s AI was. Max was also giving your phone a strange look. Your curiosity got the best of you and you answered.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)? Oh, my god. Listen I know you said only to call if it’s an emergency, but it’s an emergency,” the person on the other side spoke quickly.

“Wait, wait. Arthur, is that you?” Arthur was your man up in Michigan with the ability to generate light.

“Yes, it’s Arthur. I’m calling because the Avengers showed up at my last job. I barely managed to get a picture and get out. I might have blinded the Scarlet Witch!”

“She’ll be okay. Hey, man. How about you lay low for a while. Spread the word for others to do the same.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”

“Stay safe, Arthur,” you parted.

“What happened?” Max asked.

You told him everything. “We have a technokeniser nearby, don't we?”

🌹

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the night time New York skyline twinkling behind you. You wore nothing but your undergarments, but your black stealth suit was waiting for you on your bed. Your skin was smooth and unblemished thanks to your accelerated cell healing. Everything was perfect except for the single, one-inch scar directly above your left knee.

Apparently, vibranium was your weakness. It didn’t bother you because everyone had to have a weakness. Thankfully, it was a rare metal on Earth. Your cells repaired themselves slowly like a normal human when it came to injuries dealt with vibranium. You had learned that the hard way.

[Austria 1944]

You were in central Austria for two weeks while things back in New York calmed down. It turned out that the man you had strangled three days ago was a low ranking member of the local mafia. Because the man wasn’t that important, they would, hopefully, move on quickly and you could safely resume your contract killings.

It was a beautiful place, with many trees that were changing with the season and beautiful lush mountains. Just a few days after you had arrived, Captain America and the Howling Commandos rolled into town. People cheered and it almost felt like a parade.

You had heard of them of course, going around Europe dismantling the Nazi organization called Hydra. You walked through town, dress swishing around your calves and hair pinned in the latest style. You looked like the stereotypical rich American girl. Your favorite heels clicked along the cobblestone road as you windowshopped.

“Guten Tag Fräulein,” a young man winked at you as he leaned against a wall. “Du siehst wunderschön aus, aber du würdest noch besser aussehen wenn—”

His words stopped when your fist slammed into his face, your ring cutting his cheek. You were not in the fucking mood to be catcalled today. You were never in the mood to be catcalled.

“Du verdienst das,” another male voice said behind you.

You turned around and your eyes widened when you saw one of the Howling Commandos standing there. More specifically, James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America’s best friend from Brooklyn.

“Bist du in Ord-Ordnung?” he stumbled over the word.

“I didn’t know you could speak German,” you smirked and continued your stroll through town. “Not the best at it, though.”

“Oh, you’re American!” He fell into step next to you. From the twenty-some years you had lived in New York growing your business, you had lost your accent.

“I suppose,” you said vaguely.

“We kinda need to know some German if we’re going to be intercepting Nazi communications,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “They usually don’t ask if everyone’s alright, so I don’t really know the phrase.”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“Bist du in Ordung?” he tried and you chuckled.

“Ord-nung,” you drew out the syllables.

“Ordnung.”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“That’s better,” you smiled. “You’ll be sweeping girls off their feet with your German in no time Sergent.”

“This may be a bit forward,” he said slowly and you raised your eyebrows. “But… Do you want to see the shield? Considering you’re American and all that. Girls always want to see Captain America’s shield.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m like them.” You brought a finger up to your chin and pretended to think. “But my answer is yes. I would like to see the shield.”

He grinned and led you to the edge of the forest. You held nothing against forests, but they always reminded you of Loki. They reminded you of the days long ago when he actually was there for you. When he cared about you. When you hesitated before going under the cover of trees, Barnes gave you a strange look.

“Just a bit suspicious,” you lied. “Leadin’ a sweet little dame like me into a mysterious forest mere minutes after you met me?”

“Based on what I saw back there, you can handle yourself. If anythin’, I’m worried ‘bout myself. The rest of the Commandos are within shouting distance so don’t you try anything,” he said with a laugh.

You joined in and you two walked deeper into the forest. Sure enough, the sounds of boisterous laughter and cheers reached your ears. Captain America and the Howling Commandos sat around a small clearing. When you said ‘small clearing’ you meant small. Like a circle with a three-meter radius small.

“Who do you have there, Buck?” a tall blond asked. It took you a moment to realize that he was Captain America. You almost didn’t recognize him without his helmet.

“Fellas, this is… Do I know your name?” The Howling Commandos lived up to their names and began to howl with laughter.

“You can call me (Y/N),” you laughed. “James saw me punch a guy and invited me to check out Captain America’s shield.”

“What’s a nice American dame doin’ all the way in Austria?” a man with a prominent mustache asked. Dum Dum Dougan.

“Hiding.”

“So you wanted to see the shield?” Jim Morita asked.

“That would be nice.” A look passed around the group. “I’m not going to steal it,” you scoffed. “Even if that was my intention, I’m wearing heels.” Another look went around.

“Be careful,” the Captain handed the red, white, and blue shield to you. “Buck, can I talk to you?” He and Barnes walked away and with your enhanced hearing, you briefly heard, “-can’t just bring over any dame…”

You smirked and examined the shield. Vibranium, the metal was called. It was strange how light it actually was. Once you finished, you looked up at the remaining Commandos who were staring at you.

“Do you know any tricks?”

Gabe Jones eagerly raised his hand and you passed him the shield. The other men quickly scrambled away. Jones threw the shield like a frisbee and it rebounded off of a tree with surprising speed, the dark-skinned man barely caught it.

“That was pretty good, eh?” he asked the group.

“Au moins, cela n'a touché personne cette fois,” Jacques Dernier spoke in quick French. At least you didn’t hit anyone this time. Jones groaned and you hid your smirk.

“I have a trick,” James Montgomery Falsworth said.

He took the shield from Jones and everyone took another step backward. Falsworth noticed this and rolled his eyes. He roughly threw the shield in the air with a flick of his wrist that gave it a spin. You guessed he wanted it to bounce back to him, but the shield hit a rock and veered off course.

Instead of returning to Falsworth’s hand, it flew at you. The vibranium hit your left leg above your knee through your dress. How sharp was the shield because it actually cut your leg. You could already see some blood seep into the dress.

“Oh fuck! I mean gosh darn it!” Dougan cried and helped you stay on your feet.

“I didn’t— I’m so sorry,” Falsworth stuttered in his British accent. “Are you okay?”

If only he knew that he had hit one of his former Queens. The thought made you laugh through the stinging pain in your leg. You shifted your weight onto your right leg.

“I’m fine,” you said in between short bursts of giggles. It wasn’t that funny. Anyways, the wound would heal soon.

“What happened?” Captain America and Barnes returned to the group.

“Uh—”

“Er—”

“Um—”

“The shield hit my leg,” you said and motioned to the small bit of blood on your dress. “I’m fine though.”

“We were only gone for two minutes.” The Captain looked at the Commandos.

“They just wanted to show off for a pretty dame,” Barnes winked at you.

“I told you guys to be careful,” the Captain sighed. “Come with me, ma’am, and I can help you clean up.”

Small wounds like these would usually be healed by now so you were about to tell him that you can handle it yourself but you could still feel the sting of the cut. You nodded and accepted his invitation. You walked over to him and he put an arm around you to help you support your weight.

He brought you to a house on the edge of the forest. Rows of cots covered the ground. A table with a map stood in the back. Men’s clothes and trinkets laid around the room. The Captain led you to one cot and pulled out a small first aid kit from underneath.

You rolled your skirt up just until the wound was visible. It was about two and a half centimeters long, but it was a bit deeper than you expected. The Captain pulled out a small tin box that read ‘Iodine Swabs.’ He removed one of the swabs and began to clean around your wound.

“I don’t know how this could have happened,” he said. You realized he was trying to avoid touching you.

“You can touch me. I don’t mind.” He nodded and the process went faster. “And don’t worry about the shield.”

“It shouldn’t be able to cut skin like this.” He moved onto the hydrogen peroxide and dampened a cotton pad with the solution.

“It was spinning. Maybe that had something to do with it?” Another question, a more important question was why weren’t you healed yet?

“Maybe.” Then he began to profusely apologize when you hissed the moment the hydrogen peroxide touched your wound. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s alright, Captain,” you laugh lightly. “And just call me (Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N).” He wrapped your injury and gave you a kind smile. “Then you can call me Steve.”

“First name basis with Captain America, huh?”

🌹

Your phone read 2:47 as your silver Porsche 911 rolled to a silent stop with its headlights off. The Avengers compound was about a mile up the road. Liam, with his technokinesis, managed to get you this close, but now you had to leave the safety of the car. You crept through the woods, Max and Liam close behind you.

Liam just wore black jeans and a black leather jacket. He also had a black bandana around his head, again, courtesy of Max. Max also wore a similar leather jacket and bandana as well as black leather pants and a cape. He had shown you his Captain America shirt underneath the jacket, you know, ‘just in case.’ You were in a fucking normal skintight stealth suit.

“What if we get lost?” Liam whispered.

“We won’t,” you said. There was a force pulling you in the right direction. You could feel the familiar aura Loki’s presence grow stronger as you neared the compound. Your heart was racing, but it wasn’t because of the current mission. Could he feel you too?

Fifteen minutes later, the Avengers compound came into view. Fortunately, Liam didn’t need a computer to do his work. Stark was so fucking tech savvy that all Liam needed was to get inside. He didn’t need any help to do that either, easily disabling the electronic locks. Honestly, you and Max were just there for protection. Max took watch outside while you stayed with Liam inside.

“You know what to do?” you asked and kept your eyes fixed on the dark hallway.

“Yeah,” he placed his hand on the wall and closed his eyes. Glowing blue lines that resembled a circuit board grew from his hand. “First delete everything they have on us. Then, if there’s time, scramble everything else.”

“How long is it going to take?”

“Not too long. Maybe ten to fifteen minutes?”

This was the closest you’ve been to Loki since 2012. Maybe the closest you’ve been to him since 1538. What was he doing right now? Was he sleeping? Would your presence wake him up? If you could just…

“Where are you going?” Liam’s words shook you out of your head.

Where were you going? To your soulmate, probably. You were five feet away from where you stood before your mind was consumed by the thought of Loki.

The distraction had consequences when Max’s shout of surprise made you look back just in time to see your friend doge a blast from Iron Man. A small sound from the end of the hall caused you to whirl back around. You ducked, barely missing being decapitated by Captain America’s shield and you knew you wouldn’t heal from that.

“Fuck.” You pulled out a gun as the shield returned to its owner. “How much time do you need?” You fired twice down the hall and saw two sets of sparks where the bullets met the vibranium shield. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and saw your opponent.

“Just give me two minutes.”

Liam opened his eyes and clenched his fist at the flying billionaire outside. The Iron Man suit’s eyes dimmed and it fell to the ground. That left Max to deal with the Black Widow who was doing well on Max’s ice-like surface.

You went to meet the Captain in the dim hallway. You landed a quick hit on him before he could react. Instead of raising his shield, he pushed it into your chest, shoving you back. He moved forward and you dodged his punch. You went to punch Steve’s head again and this time he raised his shield. When he did, you used your other hand to punch him in the stomach. Hard. He bent over slightly and you took the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him. You noticed something…

Shit, was Loki getting closer? You could feel the link grow stronger.

Steve used his shield to sweep your feet out from under you this time. You landed on your back which knocked the breath out of you. To recover, you took a deep breath while Steve pinned you to the ground. He was about to hit your face but you managed to catch his fist. Using his momentum, you forced his fist down to the side of your face, throwing him off balance. You flipped him over and now you were on top.

“Ma’am, we can work this out,” he said. Captain America, always the diplomat.

“I thought we were on a first name basis, Steve,” you smirked and you could pinpoint the moment realization set in. Using his distracted state, you grabbed his shield and slammed it into the side of his head, effectively knocking him out.

“We’re good to go,” Liam called. Just in time because Loki was definitely coming.

You stood up and took an involuntary step in the wrong direction. In the direction Loki was. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Come on, (Y/N). Go the other way. Finally, your body listened to you and you ran out the doors.

“You deleted the security footage of tonight too, right?” you asked Liam as you ran.

“Yes, I got that too.”

Max saw the two of you and joined you, leaving the Black Widow on the unnaturally smooth grass. You passed the Iron Man suit that was laying on its back. Wait, was the Stark asshole still in there? Yes, you could hear faint complaining coming from the suit.

You felt the ground under you change to feel springier like a track, no doubt Max’s doing. The three of you made it back to the car within seven minutes, all of you out of breath with you less so than the two men.

You started your car and sped down the road. Max and Liam collapsed in the back.

“Man, that was awesome what you did to Iron Man,” Max laughed.

“Nah, you were great against the Black Widow. Not everyone gets away with just a black eye and cut lip.”

“And bruised ribs and missing a cape.”

The two men laughed in the backseat as the adrenaline wore off but your tight grip on the steering wheel didn’t relax until the feeling of Loki was gone.

🌹

Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Thor, and Brunnhilde were immediately called to the conference rooms when they returned from Michigan. Steve quickly found Bucky by the hanger. The metal armed supersoldier noticed that his blond friend was in uniform and had a couple faint bruises on his face.

“What the fuck happ—”

“Do you remember being in Austria in 1944?” Steve cut him off.

“Those were pretty busy years, pal. We were all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Do you remember a girl? You said she punched some Austrian guy in the face for catcalling her. You brought her to meet the Commandos and Falsworth hit her with my shield? Her name was (Y/N).”

“Um, yeah, I think I remember. She taught me some German.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Why are you askin’?”

“She was here and it was like she hadn’t aged a day,” Steve said and gauged his friend’s reaction. “She was actually the one to…” he gestured at his bruised face.

“So what actually happened?” They walked into the conference room.

“Short story?” Tony asked. A blind man would have been able to tell that the billionaire was furious. “Three fucking people broke into the fucking compound and fucking deleted the files I had created for the fucking white rose assassins case.” He slammed his fist on the table each time he swore.

“What do we have?” Sam asked. “‘Cause we got nothin’ from Michigan.”

“Yeah.” Wanda put her head on the table. “Just blinded.”

“Three people,” Steve repeated. “Two men and one woman, all enhanced. against me, Nat, and Tony. Clint is still benched.”

“Where were you, brother?” Thor looked at Loki.

“I was distracted about something else,” he stated

Loki thought about what had happened during the attack. He had sensed her. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Something had been trying to pull him somewhere. When he finally gave in, the feeling had led him to find an unconscious Captain and Stark trapped in his own suit. The tugging had faded then and the attackers were nowhere to be found.

“The woman,” Steve continued. “I think she was the same one from the cafe.”

“She has to be at the head of this thing,” Nat said.

Loki had thought the woman in the video had reminded him of (Y/N).

“I met her before.” Everyone looked at Steve.

“We both did,” Bucky added. “In Austria back during the war.”

“And she hasn’t aged a day. She referenced something she said when we met. I know it was her. I never forget anything.”

The God of Mischief’s heart missed a beat. Was it possible for the woman to be older than they thought? All signs were pointing at (Y/N). The woman’s familiarity. The strange tugging. The long life.

“What does this mean?” Clint asked.

“We don’t know.”

*

*

*

*

*

Tags: @kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie @simplybree @adalina-perez @emage-king @yandereforyou @notactiveonmain @tvdplusriverdale

#marvel #mcu #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #loki odinson #ocs #inhuman #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #iron man #tony stark #black widow #natasha romanoff

[knoepfchen]

tagged by @meet-the-girl-who-can on the share 30, tag 20 thing - thank you Alex! <3

1. Name/Nicknames: i go by laurel on here :)

2. Gender: female

3. Star Sign: scorpio

4. Height: i think it’s actually dead on the national average

5. Time: quarter to six!

6. Birthday: 10 November

7. Favourite Band: Bastille

8. Favourite Solo Artist: this changes every month, but MIKA, probably

9. Song Stuck in My Head: “I’m Not Angry Anymore” by Paramore

10. Last Movie: La Dolce Vita, I think? Unless I count that film of the 2012 Jesus Christ Superstar arena tour, but I don’t want to give Andrew Lloyd Webber the credit tbh

11. Last Show: currently watching Leverage, but have also started Billions after two people independently of each other told me I remind them of one of the characters. (you may guess whom if you know it, but please don’t think any worse of me^^)

12. When I Created This Blog: everyone was very specific about this so I assume there is a way of looking this up? but all i’ve got for you is *probably* 2012

13. What I Post: i tend to reblog fanart nigh compulsively when i see it on my dash (atm that’s mostly TOG and some Good Omens).

14. Last Thing I Googled: ‘baby socks knit pattern’ (if you’ve got some good ones hmu please, everyone i know is pregnant and i’m turning into molly weasley apparently)

15. Other Blogs: i had a romantic academia (?) sideblog but then i couldn’t be bothered to treat my online presence like some social media manager anymore, and now here we are

16. Do I get asks?: i had an anon who’d come to my inbox every sunday about half a year ago with messages vaguely sexualising marwan kenzari and/or luca marinelli, but i think i’ve driven them away bc i am... not all that keen on doing that to people who are non-fictional on here. other than that, eh. ;)

17. Why I Chose My URL: there’s a character in the raven cycle who can take objects from his dreams, who is referred to as a ‘greywaren’. he’s not a particularly morally grey character tbh, but i like morally grey characters and can never resist word play, so.

18. Following: close to 1k, but that’s because i follow blogs for many different interests and only unfollow people once they start actively annoying me - if you just go quiet or post in timezones i can’t see you in, you’re stuck with me!

19. Followers: ~1.5k, but i think 2/3 of that are abandoned blogs

20. Average Hours of Sleep: ... 6? (although i’ve been known to get close to 8 when there’s someone to take the phone out of my hand and tell me to ‘stop reading under the covers like a grounded child’. long-distance is clearly working out well^^)

21. Lucky Number: 5

22. Instruments: played classical guitar as a child, dabbled on the piano as a teen

23. What I Am Wearing: indubitably one of the three jumper - mini skirt - fuzzy sock combos that are my lockdown rotation

24. Dream Job: tbh just any kind of consulting gig that let’s me work with people but still be my own boss (this is a key clue to the Billions character if you’re guessing btw)

25. Dream Trip: really want to go to Istanbul, or take a long train journey from St Petersburg to China, and I kind of want to visit Bhutan before it gets drawn into some war situation. also, jordan.

26. Favourite Food: any cultural variation of the dumpling. you know the post. 

27. Nationality: German

28. Favourite Song: Vienna, but the Ben Platt version because I am insufferable musical theatre person, sorry

29. Last Book I Read: currently reading Blood Orange which is, okay, I guess, last book I finished was Woyzeck, which was as upsetting as I remembered it from school

30. Top 3 fictional universes I would love to live in: so i may be a romantic at heart, but i am also a pretty rational person most of the time, and the truth of the matter is, most fictional universes have so much shit going down that I’d much rather just stay in this one. (i’m aware that there is a lot of shit going down in this one as well, don’t worry, i just rather the shit i know than suddenly having to deal with an overpowered space hitler trying to take over.)

I’m supposed to tag 20 people now, but I don’t know if I even know that many people on here and I’m not sure if there’s one of the people I do know who hasn’t been tagged in this yet, so.. anyone who wants to, feel free?

#tag games #meet-the-girl-who-can

[awed-frog]

If you don’t mind the question, what did you mean about writers not knowing their country’s history?

Well - this is actually something I’m passionate about so I’ll do my best not to write an essay here, but the main problems here are that 

we mostly learn ‘simplified’ history because we learn it only when we’re very young and 

we learn deliberately sanitized history because we see stuff through a Christian / current ethics&morals filter and 

we learn history from the people who survived it (ie the nobility and the intellectual elites), which gives us a bizarre view of what the world was actually like and also 

we know jack shit about many things because a lot was lost forever and proper modern archaeology was born, like, yesterday so even the textbooks from my own days as a student are now painfully outdated. 

Aaaand add to that the fact that books also reflect who you are, your biases (conscious and subconscious) and the world you live in right now. 

Aaaaaaaaand add to that the fact the books need to make sense in a narrative way, so the more you delve into your own story, the more you move away from the ‘actual’ and ‘real’ past even if you’re writing a period novel, because everything about a novel is necessarily artificial.

For instance, the other day they confirmed that this magnificent Saxon grave from the 6th century they found a few years back contains a lyre made with Sri Lankan wood, but you’ll never find a historical or fantasy novel exploring trade between England and South-East Asia in the 6th century. Or, I don’t know - I have a goddamn M.A. in archaeology and I can’t walk two feet without tripping in a Celtic artefact and yet I was last year’s years old when I found out Gaulish society was incredibly gay - and the only reason I even discovered that is because I was researching that specific stuff (marriage and interpersonal relationships in ancient Gaul) for fanfiction.

(Fanfiction!)

And I know I tagged that other post GoT because that’s what I’m currently annoyed about, but since I don’t know much about the Middle Ages, I don’t want to wade in that and make even more of a prat of myself - instead, just look at Antiquity. Did you know that before HBO’s Rome, which truly made an effort, the most accurate depiction of the period came from an 18+ movie? Because apparently the director was like, “I want to shoot this incredibly, ridiculously E, all warnings apply, non-con, violence, incest story BUT I want the best actors of our generation and it must be historically accurate” and seriously W.T.F.? It was the first movie to show people writing on tablets instead of paper (paper!), and also the first movie to reflect what an imperial palace actually looked like (think a Kardashian’s bathroom but worse - more gold, more velvet, more glitter, more randomly placed stuffed peacocks).

(As a warning: if you’re now tempted to watch it, please note I’m not joking - this is a dead dove do not eat kind of situation.)

So, I don’t know. Speaking as someone who’s struggled to make sense of a foreign and distant past for about twelve years, I think that when it comes to history we’ve got a perfect storm of bad and worse things.

On the one hand, history is objectively hard understand because everyone in it is - well - dead. Archaeology is slowly filling the gaps, but there’s still a lot we’ll probably never know.

On the other hand, history is also an incredibly delicate and divisive subject, both for individuals and for nations. That’s why we keep rewriting textbooks and why we pretend we were never related to someone unsavoury (like this sweet old German lady I met who managed to ‘forget’ her parents had been enthusiastic Nazis) or try to redeem them in some way (apparently what’s going on in most of the US South).

And on the other other hand, we’re all brainwashed into thinking we know stuff about history because many of us had to sit through six to ten years’ worth of lessons - but, because of the previous two points and also all that stuff in bold above, we actually don’t. What science is going through right now, with people confusing access to Google with actual knowledge, is a lot more common with history, and has been common for a long time. 

So, I guess my point was - we should stop harassing writers for writing about their country’s actual, mythical or imagined past - which is normal, everybody does that - and start wondering why we keep hearing the same three stories based on 19th century stereotypes on what that past was like. I mean, it’s 2019. Why don’t we leave weird propaganda behind and teach better history, starting in primary school? And why don’t we translate more? Why did we have to wait for Netflix to have easy access to subtitled foreign stories? Why aren’t we more familiar with the history, religion and mythologies both of our own countries and of people we’ve been living in close proximity with since bloody prehistory? Why is world culture dominated by basically three countries?

(Uuuugh.)

Not to sound overly bitter or anything, but I’d like for people to be more curious, and I’d like to live in an economic system promoting and rewarding that curiosity, and instead we’re all stuck here.

#ask #history #archaeology #ancient rome #writing #writers problems #fantasy #antiquity #classics #got #the fantasy discourse #orwell who

[kinkymagnus]

piercing anon: tbh i don't know why i expected cultural interest from a blog about an asian uwu-sub and yaoi supporter. if it had infections depicted i would have said that. but also you're the designated kinky blog and not interested in genital piercings, so, again. idk why i bothered.

(in reference to this ask.)

look, anon. if you’d started off with “hey, here’s a really cool cultural thing that could be related to magnus’s culture! it’s about genital piercings, and...” so on, then maybe i would have been prepared and willing to push past the squick to learn more. i mean, i’ve looked at/learned about things i find gross (not that it’s gross, but i mean like, squicky) in school, so for the cultural part i might be willing to talk even if not so much about the sexy part. 

but you didn’t. you went with the blank anxiety inducing void of “google this on the german wikipedia, it involves images of genitals and a cultural aspect” like. i had no idea what i could be tripping into here. i can’t read german, so i’d have to rely on google translate. honestly, maybe this was a bad assumption, but i figured the cultural aspect was going to be like, german culture, given you said it only appeared on german wikipedia. i don’t know if that’s true. and as for “i’d have said if it was infections related” well i’d really love to be able to assume that about every anon in my inbox, but sometimes people don’t have good intentions, or are just genuinely oblivious. you warned for genitals, so i assume you had some idea the images might be upsetting or weird, but i wasn’t sure what else might be involved. infections were one example. piercings might be another. 

and just because i’m a designated kinky blog doesn’t mean i’m into everything! i’ve said in the past there are things i’m not interested in or don’t like. to be fair, i don’t believe piercings have come up on any public posts. i do sometimes lose track of what i’ve told who, so if you’d just said it was genital piercings related i might have reacted differently, because you couldn’t have known. (i’d make a list but honestly i don’t think anyone would look at it, and anyway, sometimes you don’t know you’re Really Not Into Something until you look at it and that might be misleading for someone, you know?) but my blog isn’t a public service, or a dispensary like “insert sexy thing here for cool post”. i’m sorry i couldn’t make you your cool post. if you were specifically looking for something involving trans or sub magnus (apparently not the latter?) then i get there are precious few other blogs who might want to participate. but if you really thought i was like, a Yaoi Girl(TM) or something, why send me anything at all? 

and anyway i don't think "yaoi supporter" is a fair thing here, especially as that's generally like a Cishet Girl being homophobic against mlm and i??? am mlm??? shipping two men and writing them in sexual situations doesnt automatically make you a Fetishizing Yaoi Supporter. but if I've ever came across that way then please, let me know how. bc if it's just "you talked about men having sex and not much else" then respectfully, that's bullshit. im a mlm and a porn blog, I do tend to talk about mlm sex a lot. but if theres something else... shoot me another ask, i guess.

finally, i’ve never meant to imply magnus was uwu weak soft boy at all, or that he was a sub because he was asian, or that being asian made him all uwu soft baby or something like that. i do believe that he can BE a sub without it being Like That, but if my portrayal of that was badly written, if that ever came across i’m truly sorry and i’d like to know how i did that so i can try and be better. 

#piercing anon

[popscenery]

Passion Pit, »Take a Walk«

by Jessica Doyle

In the summer of 2010, when I took a leave of absence from my PhD program, my dissertation was a helpless non-thing without a subject. In December 2018, I officially got my PhD, because my dissertation was done: written, revised, defended, revised again, approved, copied, formatted, distributed, carefully archived, accepted as an actual work of scholarship. It is arguably my most important professional accomplishment of the decade, and also arguably entirely inconsequential. The claim that 90 percent of academic papers go uncited is mostly untrue, but it is true for my dissertation, and I have the gaping void of a Google Scholar search return to prove it.

Trust me: as bitter and self-deprecating post-graduate students might be about their research (see previous paragraph), none of us start out planning to write something inconsequential. Certainly the subject of my dissertation was not inconsequential at all. “Take a Walk” is not my favorite song of the past decade, but it is the song that kept reminding me that the topic was worth writing about.

My dissertation examined what makes starting and maintaining a business easier or harder for Latino entrepreneurs in different American cities. Take Miami as an example, where 47% of all businesses are Latino-owned. That’s much higher than the national average (12 percent) and higher than the percentage in other cities with large Latino populations: New York, Los Angeles, Houston. So what’s so special about Miami? Is it because the Cuban population that arrived in the 1960s were often landowners or merchants fleeing Castro, and made wealth-building a priority in their new city? Is it the geographic proximity to Latin America and the Caribbean? Is starting a business in Miami easier than elsewhere? Is it something about Miami’s economy in general, or Florida’s? Finally (and more to the point), if policy-makers in another city wanted to put in policies that would help local Latino entrepreneurs flourish, what would Miami’s example offer as guidance?

To make a 295-page story short: it is much easier to turn immigrants into successful business owners if they come to the country with business experience and/or capital already at hand; and if the local immigrant population doesn’t start with those advantages, then policy-makers should focus on providing business education and access to financing, especially the latter. Latino immigrants in the United States who want to start businesses are more likely than native-born white entrepreneurs to use their own cash (which takes a while to accumulate), credit cards (which charge higher interest rates than do bank loans), or loans from family or friends (which means that loved ones, rather than banks with larger cushions, bear the risks). I’d say read the whole dissertation, but in all frankness you’d be better off checking out the research being published by the Stanford Latino Entrepreneurship Initiative, including this report. (It’s more concise and their data is more robust than mine was.)

This all assumes, of course, that you want to encourage Latinos, or other immigrants, or anyone at all, to start their own business. A lot of us--including me; including Michael Angelakos, the artist behind Passion Pit--have immigrant entrepreneurs in our family lineage. In interviews to promote the album Gossamer, Angelakos described “Take a Walk,” the lead single, as about different members of his family. The first verse’s portrait is a classic rags-to-riches, grateful-to-be-in-America immigrant story: I love this country dearly / I can feel the ladder clearly. But in the second verse, the story shifts to a new narrator, and so does the tone: I watch my little children / Play some board game in the kitchen / And I sit and pray they never feel my strife. The final narrator is eventually undone...

I think I borrowed just too much We had taxes, we had bills We had a lifestyle to front

...yet still insists on his participation in the American dream:

Tomorrow you'll cook dinner For the neighbors and their kids We can rip apart those socialists And all their damn taxes You see, I am no criminal I'm down on both bad knees I'm just too much a coward To admit when I'm in need

Apparently at one point a Fox News reporter failed to hear the irony, and asked Angelakos if the song was anti-socialist. But Angelakos told MTV News, “It's about very specific family members, the male hierarchy, and how the men in my family have always dealt with money.... All these men were very conservative; socially very liberal but for some reason, they all came here for capitalism, and they all ended up kind of being prey to capitalism.” He told a different interviewer, “These are all true stories; this is my grandfather and so on.”

Angelakos’s ambivalence is understandable. (Several of the pieces that greeted “Take a Walk” identified it as a direct reponse to the 2008 financial crisis, an interpretation he rejected.) The idea that anyone can come to the United States, start a business, and work their way to financial security and political freedom is an old one--the history of immigrants employing at higher rates than native-born Americans goes as far back as the Census Bureau has been keeping track of such things. But even for the successful it has its costs. The narrators of “Take a Walk” are estranged from their families, anxious about their ability to keep wealth. The theme of risk runs through the song. No one worries about getting fired; they have market investments, business partners, endless complaints about taxes (as one might if one has to pay both ends of the Social Security and Medicare taxes single-handedly.) The risk allows the narrators to make comfortable lives for themselves and their family, and yet Angelakos isn’t convinced, looking back, that they were better off.

Historically, if you were running for any sort of higher political office in the United States and were from a major party, you made sure to say nice things about small businesses and entrepreneurship, especially the immigrant kind. To some degree this is still true: Elizabeth Warren’s campaign platform includes a Small Business Equity Fund that would give grants to minority entrepreneurs. That said, I’m not sure the current dominant political energy on either the American left or right favors small businesses, who tend to hate tariffs. If you read the Green New Deal resolution, though it calls for a more equitable distribution of available financing to such smaller-scale lenders as community banks and credit unions, a lot of what it wants it can only get at a certain scale. It’s easier for a larger company to retool its supply chains to lower environmental costs than it is for ten small businesses to do the same. It’s easier for a firm with a thousand employees to absorb the cost of any one employee needing a higher wage to make rent, or a longer maternity leave, or extended absences due to illness, than it is for a firm with five.

And Music Tumblr in particular can be forgiven for not thinking highly of entrepreneurship. Most creative people--artists, musicians, writers--end up as entrepreneurs simply because decent-paying employment in those fields has never been easy to find. (In 2017, Angelakos spoke of dealing with venture capitalists and deciding to run his mental-health-focused initiative, Wishart, as a combination of for-profit and non-profit.) But no loan officer with a nickel’s worth of sense would approve a loan to enter a market so saturated that marginal revenue is typically zero or close enough, or where thousands if not millions of people seem thoroughly committed to proving themselves, in Samuel Johnson’s eyes, blockheads. Upon hearing, “You can do what you love, but the market won’t reward you,” a lot of people will reply, “To hell with markets, then.”

It all comes down to how you feel about risk. For a long time the dominant American thinking was that higher risk was the price entrepreneurs paid to have the chance to succeed on their own terms. (There’s an ongoing debate in the immigrant-entrepreneurship academic literature about whether any one particular group of entrepreneurs is “pushed” into entrepreneurship--as in, they only start businesses as the best of a bad set of money-making options--or “pulled,” starting businesses because they want to.) More recently has emerged the critique that not all experiences of risk are created equal, and that in championing immigrant or minority entrepreneurship we offload risk onto those people with smaller financial or even emotional cushions. The heightened experience of risk, and its attendant anxiety and feeling of constant scarcity, may be what Angelakos meant when he described his relatives as “kind of being prey to capitalism.”

I personally agree with that critique, and would throw in that the general perception of Latino immigrants as not-entrepreneurial denies them a road to acceptance (or bourgeois respectability, if you prefer) that their Swedish, German, Jewish, Italian, and more recently Korean predecessors have been able to walk. That was why I wanted to write about Latino entrepreneurship in the first place, and why I ended up writing about North Carolina’s Latino Community Credit Union and associated initiatives as a promising case study. But I would caution against crossing the line from wanting to reduce risk for vulnerable minorities to regarding asking them to bear any kind of risk as imperialist and offensive. Risk can’t be eliminated altogether, and there are costs to scaling risk to higher levels of human activity and trying to diffuse it. A small business committed to a bad idea does a lot less damage than a government policy committed to a bad idea, even if the latter is more equitable in the range and number of people it effects.

Writing a dissertation is a humbling process. I’ve never written and recorded a song, but I imagine that process humbles too. (When “Take a Walk” came out Angelakos was not shy about disliking it, though he seems to have grown fonder of it as time goes on: “I like that it’s so uncharacteristic of me,” he said in 2017.) You work and work and work, all the while knowing you have no control over how your audience will hear your message, or if there will even be an audience. You can never be sure that you read enough, or chose the right method of analysis, or treated your subjects with sufficient respect. You’ll never know if you’re actually on the side of the angels. If the “angels” are metaphorical--if you don’t actually believe in a god, or God, whose love is greater than your human tendency to error and self-deception and treachery--then the risk is even higher. And yet, without that risk, how would you ever be able to say anything worth saying?

#songs of the decade #passion pit #longreads #music writing

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I read your Steve and Logan bits and they are amazing. But consider this; Steve learns that Logan, who's older than WW1, has lost his memories. He gives a statement in an interview describing this man, this patriot who always looked after other people in his own gruff way, describes his side-burns, his claws, his cigars. And suddenly, people are calling into the station; "Yeah, think I met this guy a few years ago" "My granddad has this photo..." "So, In this bar one time..."

And all these people call in, sharing their own memories of this mysterious Cryptid named Logan who is apparently an immortal, grumpy, wandering dad-friend who's also a patriot and he helped punch out Nazi's and free camps and beats up assholes who don't respect women. And the whole while Logan is watching this from a TV screen with Kitty or Rogue holding his hand so gently, after they dragged him to the couch in a hurry. "You recording this?" "Don't worry, we won't let you miss a single word."

Okay but if we’re gonna do this we’re gonna do this HARDCORE HISTORIAN STYLE, and it initially comes up while Steve is being interviewed for a book about the Howling Commandos or a bit for the History Channel or something.  Because this person is like “Hey, there are a bunch of stories of you showing up somewhere with only one dude for backup, was that Bucky?”  And we’ll assume that this is before the whole Winter Soldier thing, so that’s not a hideously loaded question.  

And Steve kind of laughs and he’s like, “Oh, wow, God, that was actually this dude on detached duty from the Canadian special forces, he and I got sent on a bunch of missions together.  His name was Logan, he was the weirdest guy I ever met, and I knew some pretty weird guys, but he could take a hit even better than I could, so when the Howlies were laid up, they sent us out together.”  And he launches into this story about how one time he and Logan stole a plane complete with pilot and stormed a prison camp that was holding German Jews before sending them up to Poland, and the historian he’s talking to is taking frantic notes and trying not to drool because THIS IS A NEW GUY.  CAPTAIN AMERICA’S STORY IS METICULOUSLY WELL DOCUMENTED BUT NO ONE’S EVER MENTIONED THIS GUY.

There are no pictures, obviously, so Steve does a sketch for this historian, because he’s helpful like that and also because.  Like.  Listen.  Steve’s been through a lot of weird shit, and to be sure this Logan he used to know could take a bullet and keep coming no problem, but this dude’s probably been dead fifty or sixty years.  No harm in giving him a little posthumous glory, right?

So this historian runs back to her university and starts doing research on the Internet.  She reaches out to her coworkers first, then to anyone else she knows, then to the premier WWII and Captain America scholars of the world, and asks all of them “Do you happen to know who the fuck this dude is?”

And like, no, they don’t.  They’ve got no idea.  Steve’s not even totally sure what the guy’s real last name was, because Jameson is common as hell and there’s no Logan Jameson on the books.  So they start doing research into this WWII cryptid, and finally they reach an old woman who listens to her grandson’s boyfriend talk passionately about this new project he’s working on and goes “Oh, yeah, I met Cap in Germany one time, there was a guy with him who sounds kind of like what you’re talking about.”

This passionate history major immediately sends an email in all caps to his adviser and it just says “MY BOYFRIEND’S GRANNY KNOWS WHO WE’RE TALKING ABOUT PLEASE COME TO KANSAS ASAP THANKS” or whatever, because, listen, historians are Like That.  Speaking as someone who could easily have claimed to be a history major based on my thesis, I would have gone to Kansas in 0.2 seconds if someone had been like “What’s up we found that book you were after but we can’t take it out of the museum.”  It does stuff to you.  Trust me here.

So this woman tells the story of how Cap and his weird buddy broke her and her mother and father out of a temporary prison camp, and this history professor immediately takes all the tiny bits of information and starts asking around, looking for literally anyone else who knows this Logan dude.  He saved your ass one time in Paris?  He gave you some rations in Berlin?  He beat your grandfather’s ass in Russia?  He took three bullets for you?  You had a passing conversation?  This historian and his extremely pumped undergrad who just changed his senior thesis want to hear about it.

And then someone gets in touch with them and is like “Hey, I know you’re looking for WWII stories, but this guy saved my dad’s entire unit on the Somme and I have pictures?”  And someone else is like “Hey, I have a file from a Vietnam MASH unit for a Logan who looks like that guy, do you want it?”  And someone else is like “Uh, fuck all of y’all, I think this is him in the Civil War, what do I do about that?”

AND SO BEGINS LOGAN, THE HISTORICAL CRYPTID.

This undergrad is taking an extra year of college and basically getting a Bachelor’s degree in Tracking Weird Mutants Through History, and also his adviser is very lucky to be on tenure, because otherwise he would have been laughed out of the college three times by now.  But there is an absolute preponderance of evidence, is the thing, so it just turns into this massive quest to investigate exactly whether or not Logan the Mystery Dude was actually in China for the Boxer Rebellion or whatever.

Forget this being a collaborative effort between colleges, there are multiple continents involved in this by now.  Canadian government is under pressure to turn out their WWII special operations files for this guy from five different big name universities in five different countries, including their own.  Things are getting a little wild in academia.  Steve’s been interviewed nine times and he has a filter set up in his email specifically to catch stuff from the University of Toronto.

It takes a little bit for Kitty’s bubbe to get a phone call.  Kitty’s bubbe has been living a quiet-ass life in Illinois and likes it that way, especially because her last name is not Pryde and therefore Kitty and her weird friends can crash at Bubbe’s house whenever they’re in the area without any trouble.  It’s fine if her granddaughter wants to run around in spandex and save the world and shit, she’s honestly much more chill about it than Kitty’s parents, but Bubbe does not care for news crews in her neighborhood thank you very much.

But so eventually this nice old Ashkenazi woman gets a phone call from an extremely pumped undergrad who read a very brief statement she gave in a news article forty years ago about Captain America, who she is very grateful to for breaking her, her older sister, and their little brother out of a prison camp during WWII and also helping them get across the border.  Did she happen to see anyone else?  Why yes, very polite young man, the Captain had another man with him, he was very grumpy but he let my brother ride on his shoulders so I liked him very much.  That’s great, would she mind if someone came and talked to her about that?  No, very polite young man, not at all, when would work for you?

And she gives Kitty a call that night, because she gives Kitty a weekly call since Kitty and her parents are going through a rough spot to the tune of “please God stop risking your life//listen I’m saving people I’m not going to stop learn to cope”.  Bubbe mentions offhand that she’s going to have a talk with this very polite young historian about the Shoah and Kitty’s understandably a little concerned for her bubbe’s mental health, and asks some questions.  

So Kitty hears her bubbe out in increasing degrees of shock, hangs up the phone, and immediately goes and does an extensive google.

Then she goes and hammers on Logan’s door until he says to come in, slams her computer down in front of him, and says “Holy shit, Logan, why didn’t you tell us that you knew Captain America?”

“Uh, because I mostly didn’t,” Logan says, wary.  “Don’t remember that much.”

“You might want to take a look at this, then,” Kitty says, and Logan looks through her fifteen tabs and thanks her and calls the university that seems best informed.

Which is the story of how an extremely pumped undergrad gets a phone call from the object of his thesis that opens with “This is gonna sound pretty fuckin’ wild, but my name is Logan and I’m pretty sure you can catch me up on the last hundred years better than I can.”

Oh, and then Logan and Steve meet up again and it’s very nice and sweet and that undergrad gets a full ride to the PhD program of his choice.  The full ride’s name is actually Tony Stark, who’s doing a favor for Steve, who’s doing a favor for Logan, who’s secretly doing a favor for the undergrad, but no one really knows that.

#steve rogers #wolverine #logan #xmen #captain america #in which logan and steve are old war buddies #this got wildly out of hand #but yeah no LISTEN homie if we're doing Logan The History Cryptid we're going FULL HISTORICAL MAYHEM #the canadian government (crying): we don't understand what you want from us #a baker's dozen universities with big history departments: HISTORY MYSTERY HISTORY MYSTERY HISTORY MYSTERY #ideally this takes place over about three years between 'right after steve came out of the ice' and 'shortly before shieldra' #it starts out as an interesting history fact this sophomore undergrad learned in his wwii lit class #now it's his Career #he shows up to grad school and his teachers are like 'yo kid didn't you publish a collection of interviews about logan' #he's immediately the go-to for weird historical nonsense #logan has actually met bubbe over the phone like seventeen times because kitty keeps making him '''''''make friends''''''' #steve shows up at the mansion like...the next day #this is of course wildly Not Accurate to that other au i wrote but honestly i like this one better #i just don't know enough about academia to write it in complete form #idiot teenagers with a queue #anonymous #asked and answered

[bts5sosempire]

Freedom

A/n: a couple of things before I start lol, I'm not fluent in German so I Google stuff a lot 😂😂 so if you see them please pardon me. Plus this was in the draft for soooooo long that I just wanna kms cuz I forgot about it. Another thing I don't approve this kind of behavior too.

Pairing: Yandere! Kim Taehyung x Reader

Content: implied stuff, horror, scheme, manipulation, etc.

Words: 2,135

Prompt: “What's the different of give and take?”

Maybe it had been days? No, maybe it was weeks? Months or even a year? You don't know anymore, staying in this dark basement have deprived you of any human contact and light from the outside world. The chains shackling your ankles is enough proof to say that you were confined. Bruises formed around them long enough to tell that they were marred there. The entity.

Oh, how you long to be free.

Your story is a variance of like how Icarus had flown to close to the sun.

Instead of your wings burning off, it was your freedom and dignity taken. Two things that were given to you at birth. You would do anything to have them back. But in this, can you? If you can't, maybe in rebirth?

Many questions swirl in your head, enough to paralyze your thought.

But the sound of the heavy door caught your attention. The hair on your neck stands up instantly, as a horrible shiver ran throughout your entire body. This is enough to cause epilepsy. A small whimper made pass your lips, as you try to make yourself small as possible by scooting closer to the corner and hide from him. However, nowhere is safe from him.

Taehyung will find you no matter what.

Horrible fate isn't?

“Good morning,” his voice rang throughout the small space you were confined in, “I hope you're doing alright?”

Alright, wouldn't be the word you'd use in this situation you were in. It was more like killing you slowly and taking away your sanity little by little. Pieces of you being strip away and barring nothing but your skeleton and your vulnerable naked heart in front of him.

And that is something Taehyung prefer to keep it that way. Kind of mess up if you ask yourself about it. But he's the definition of that two words, ‘mess up’.

Your silence disturbs him.

“Why aren't you answering me?” he took a step and this cause you to recoil back into the corner tightly as possible. This causes him to stop in his steps. You fear to look at him right now, he may look harmless but that night—on that day—proved how dead wrong you were. You never have seen a person who smiles from joy by hurting others and in a slow torture style.

“You're that scared of me?” The words seem to lose their kindness in them. His hands start shaking uncontrollably. Breath getting ragged. The next thing causes the blood in your veins to burst with fear. He was crackling a burst of laughter, enough to haunt your mind for your entire being. Taehyung doesn't or maybe he does know, the things he does (to you) would be a tattoo in your mind. His hand made a slow movement to his waist and pull something, as a glint was shown in the dimly light basement.

“Let's play a game shall we?” he chuckles, and you whimper out of fear. Taehyung twirls the knife in his hand as he scrapes the tip of it against the brick pillar. The sound of two different elements making contact comes closer to your ears unpleasantly. You turn away and grip the hem of the tattered shirt, this time crying. You hate this, you want nothing to do with this any longer!

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” Taehyung voice stop abruptly and you bite your whimpers, in fact, you feel his presence just mere inches away, “My mother told me to pick the very best one, and that is YOU.” those words hit your ears with a strong shiver of horror. Tensing up, the tip of the knife trail up your back like water in reverse motion. But his trailing was very careful.

“If you win, you get to go free and I won't ever pursue you again.” His voice was low and eerie. The trailing stops in between your shoulder blades and stays there. “But if you lose, you will accept me wholly and be part of my life. How does that sound?”

Your silence was all he needs now, whether you like it or not.

.

Taehyung had made you ‘play find the treasure’, around the house there were three specific items he wants it to be found and you already found one of them.

The discovery was gruesome. It was his first victim already decayed body in the Iron Maiden. A key was stuck to its mouth, and you almost retch at the sight of it. The smell of death was strong in the room, even blood that was supposed to be washed away was stained there. He wants you to fetch the key from its mouth. You were hesitant about getting it, but if it means freedom from this hell-hole.

You are all in.

The second item was a code, but it was in a room filled with advanced math and equations, but you can make out the scribbles of white and red overlapping with each other. There were papers already prepared there. Like Taehyung already had planned this all along, since there were layers of dust coated the papers and desk.

You thought you were going crazy for a second as you saw repeated math equations, but you weren't. Taehyung did that on purpose. At first, you weren't sure of your going to get out if all the numbers are right since, you added them, subtract, multiply and even divide them but it doesn't make any sense at all! You were getting frustrated. What were you doing wrong?

Letting out a frustrated sigh, there was something bothering you. Taking a look at the ceiling and around you, there were more whites than red in the room. And the highest number you achieve was 27. The inner corner of your brows knitted together and you grab all the papers scattered around you. You had color coded them. There was a letter you had scribble next to the number when you had the answer. On each and one of them.

Looking around the room one more time, there was something laying in a forgotten corner. The paper folded neatly. You went over there and pick it up.

Unfolding it, it was only the alphabet letters. But it does make sense to you now. Each number represents an alphabet letter. You grab the papers that were filled with scribbles and jot down a letter next to them. But the red is more apparent than the white ones.

Freiheit ist nights, aber in Narrenwunsch.

You recognize it was in German.

But whatever it means, it's going to aid you in your freedom.

Running out of the room, you went to find the final piece of treasure.

.

Taehyung watches from the cameras in an unknown room, as he successfully saw you retrieve the key. He was neither anxious nor impatient, instead, he was rather very calm.

You were intriguing his mind more, very compatible. All he needs is to get you to join him is his misfortune and mischief, by ruling his side like the person he needed in this reign he's going to take over.

“Oh? She already solved it.” A small chuckle reverberates from his vocal cords. It didn't take long for you to solve the problems.

.

You run past the living room where you were supposed to be in there like fifteen minutes ago and you came back to find a computer hook up in cables and cords, as its links to a double door. Something made your skin crawl, it's not the cold air in this dark place. It's like you're being watched.

Making a small step at the bright computer, your eyes wince at the contrast. There was a question written on the computer screen.

What is freedom?

You type in the letters and press enter, and a click resonates around the room. The heavy doors open with a loud cry upon forces.

Everything in you pause for a moment.

A gust of strong wind push through the small gap of the door, you feel it rustle pass your unkempt self. Light peers through the dark room, making the darkness scramble away as it was eaten up. A breath of amazement escapes your lips, as you saw the landscape you were surrounded with. Wildflowers bloom everywhere, a giant lake down below the field, mountains far away with snow decorating their top.

Shaking your head, you cut off your thought. You need to get out of here!

Without wasting a moment, you set foot outside and it feels like many centuries have passed since you last visited the outside world. The rush of adrenaline filled you with excitement. A smile made on your dry lips. You pick up your speed and run towards the no path field of flowers.

Petals float in the air as your legs hit the wildflowers. The sun warms against your skin.

But the sound of a gunshot cut you short your freedom as you halt all movements. All feeling of happiness and childish self-flew away from you as fear regrips your heart again. You turn around and saw Taehyung there with a gun pointed in the air with a cynical smile. He then pointed it at you.

“Your freedom must've tasted good because it didn't last long.”

“You said you would let me go.” Your voice came out raspy because of the lack of use.

“But I didn't promise you though.” He comes close to you. Your legs start to buckle in fear and anxiety. “This was merely a lesson for you.”

“What?” Anger surge through you, like a breath of disbelief, filling your lungs.

“You know what ‘Freiheit ist nights, aber in Narrenwunsch’mean (Name)?” His terrifying eyes bore into your orbs, that look is enough to make your body lock under pressure, but you refuse to fall under his gaze. “It means freedom is nothing, but a fool's wish’. You get it to don't you? I let you escape like this to tell you how easy it is to take and give freedom. The words give and take are no different since they are so close to each other.” Taehyung closes the proximity. His hand went to capture your wrist with his one hand and twist them around your back. He pulls you close to him, chest to chest. This makes you struggle in his vice grip.

“Since taking away your dignity didn't break you enough, I would have to break your ambitions, your hope, your everything, and even the light that glimmer in your eyes.” The gun in his hand came dangerously close to you, as he traces the cool tip of the gun right down the side of your face. He leans his face close to you, just inches apart. “I will make you depend on me for the rest of your life. Want to hear a term for that? It's called Stockholm Syndrome. With enough deprivation of human contact, you will become eventually paranoid and start begging for my attention, then I'll make you learn how to love me.”

“You're sick!”

“I don't appreciate being called mentally ill (Name) after all, I'm not the one who killed their family and was label that.”

A snarl emits from your lips, as your anger override your emotions to think properly and words blurt out. “You think throwing the crime on me would make me come running towards you and kiss your feet? Instead, this made me hate you with a fiery passion that I run away and you're the one who came chasing after me instead! In fact, I appreciate if they killed me off sooner I wouldn't have to deal with your psychotic-”

A hand had made contact with your face. And you were shocked that Taehyung had just backhanded you! You bite your lower bleeding lip. “You don't mean it, you don't know what you're talking about. You don't hate me, you love me. Say that you love me.” Taehyung commanded the last sentence with the gun pointed under your jaw.

You give him a hard stare for a good few seconds before closing your eyes awaiting death if you don't answer.

“Open your eyes and say that you love me! Say it!” Taehyung tugs you.

Refusing to open your eyes, and the metallic metal was removed from your chin as you were pushed to the ground as the air was knocked out from your lungs. You open your eyes and saw him loom over you. There weren't any emotions shown on his face.

.

On that field, Taehyung was nothing more than an animal mask with the essence of the devil himself as he takes you there. He retook your everything.

#bts #bangtan #bts jungkook #bangta boys #bts v #bts suga #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts jin #bangtan boys #bts namjoon #bts-x-reader #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #bts imagines #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts reactions #bts fandom #bts fanfction #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere #yandere x reader

[thathockeyshit]

20 Questions Tag

Rules: answer 20 questions and tags 20 people you want to know better. I was tagged by @goalie-hugs (thank you so much for tagging me!)

1. Nickname - I don’t have a nickname, I don’t know if that’s sad (it might be) some people call me Rach but I had a pretty bad experience with someone who used to call me that so I tend to shut that down pretty quick if people start calling me that

2. Zodiac sign - virgo  

3. Hogwarts house - Gryffindor (according to Pottermore, but I would have expected Hufflepuff) 

4. Height - 5′6″ (but I tell most people I’m 5′7″)

5. Last thing I googled - 'liquid aminos’ (I seriously wish I had something more interesting than that)

6. Favourite artists - Musical: Catfish and the Bottlemen, the Jonas Brothers have put out some pretty good stuff (and I think the idea of saying the Jonas Brothers are one of my favourites in 2019 is kind of comical), Red Hearse is a super new group but definitely have the potential to be one of my favourites if they keep up what they’ve done with their initial releases, and Post Malone (ugh). Other: Todd Hido 

7. Song stuck in my head at the moment - Red Hearse - Red Hearse 

8. Followers - 248

9. Following - 117

10. Do I get asks - not as often as I would like (come talk to me, I’m lonely)

11. Amount of sleep - I try to get 7 hours, but it ranges from 5-8

12. Lucky numbers - 9, 4, and 48 

13. What am I wearing - I just got up, so a t-shirt that’s like 5 sizes too big and leggings 

14. Dream Job - counsellor in a general sense, super specifically I want to work in an inpatient mental health facility (or hospital) with teenagers 

15. Instruments - Unfortunately, I don’t play any. 

16. Languages - Just English. I took 2 years of German in high school but can only remember how to introduce myself, say I have a cat, and tell you it’s on the left side (don’t know what ‘it’ is, but it’s on the left)

7. Favourite song - I don’t have an all-time favourite song. Maybe Hammer to Fall by Queen (but I’m only saying that because it’s been on so many of my Spotify playlists)

18. Random fact - this isn’t even about me, but it relates to hockey, my dad broke his knee playing hockey and still to this day has screws in it that bother him. 

19. Aesthetic - rain (just the temperate rainforest landscape in its entirety), the ocean, small coastal towns (don’t know how better to describe that)

20. Dream trip - I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland because, apparently, I’m part Irish (I don’t really know anything about my family though, so that’s more like a rumor I’ve adopted as truth). Or a road trip across Canada and the USA. 

I tag: (if any of you have already done this, I’m sorry I missed it! Also, no pressure to do it if you don’t want to for any reason (I mean, obviously, I’m some weird stranger on Tumblr I can’t make you do anything)) @sammyblais9, @duskytrev, @ayyoparayko, @wikipediabr0wn, @hockeygirl5577, @sunglowings, @killerpuck, @harrisonbader, @rather-be-watchin-my-blues, @hockeynotoriety, @idontgiveaflyingratsbehind, @idontreallyknow-1, @justanotherhxckeyfan, @stlparaykos, @islandofthelostsoul, @bluesfamily, @alter-j, @courtdancer10, @bitchmeetsworld

#this was fun #i'm so excited I got tagged in one of these #not hockey shit #ask tag