#like seriously did i read that wrong??? am i going insane? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heart2beom · 1 year

Text

cliché

pairing: bsf!yeonjun x reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, crack, little angst

synopsis: after yeonjun hears you referring to him as someone who's like a brother ...he tries his hardest to make you see him as a potential boyfriend.

or in which you're perplexed at all the movie hangouts your friend has been initiating.

warning: mature language, reader is assumed to be fem

notes: honestly, i always try to cut down the word count to make it more available for people who only read drabbles/blurbs but i just CANT. so here's another short oneshot T-T and as always, reblog to help the algorithm pick up on this :D

yeonjun was confused walking back home -- no, the whole day, he was disturbed. the reason for this was yesterday...when he went to get drinks for both you and him at a frat party.

the crowds were insanely hard to get through (and it didn't help that people kept on stopping him to 'catch up' or whatnot) so it took him more than fifty minutes to come back with the drinks he promised to get.

but it looked like it was too late because the people you were surrounding yourself with when yeonjun was there...disappeared. instead, you're bundled up, alone in a corner, with a guy he does not know. which was already weird because yeonjun knew everybody, and that was enough reason for him to hurry his ass up through sweaty frat drunks and make sure the unknown guy isn't some sleazeball.

that time he wasn't aware that he rolled his eyes but he did conciously plan to squeeze himself into the conversation...and technically cockblock.

but when he neared you...that's when his world shattered...on more dramatic terms. it was more like his confidence was shot down to the deepest depths of hell.

"oh, yeonjun? pfft, he's like a brother!"

even though it was almost barely audible due to the blasting music, 'brother' to his ears were magnified -- the word circling through his head.

brother. brother?!

and as a result of this baffling situation, he had backed himself in an opposing corner with your cup in his right and his cup in his left, way further than you now, thinking of where did it go wrong?

he's never had someone friend-zone him -- for heavensake, he's yeonjun, he's aware of how attractive he is. but brother-zone? that was even worse of an attack!

it doesn't matter that you said it -- come on, that's barely the case. it's the fact that someone was so unattracted to him that he was seen as a sibling.

sure, you and yeonjun were a sort of bunch that have been together since... forever, really. seriously, you were friends since elementary -- when you joined the school, fourth grade, mindlessly kicking rocks at recess he approached you like the social butterfly kid that he was, asking you if you wanted to come play with his friends.

once he took another sip of the red cup in his right hand, the fruity punch being way too overbearing (just how'd you like it), he furrowed his brows together.

he definitely doesn't see you as a sister.

he'd have to admit that when middle school hit and his puberty was acting up around ...the seventh grade? he was convinced that he would eventually marry you like the way his parents were. a brother wouldn't have felt that way about his sister! normally that is...

granted, he mostly blamed that on the first strikes of puberty because right after middle school, he moved on from the thought -- completely abandoning his pre-puberty dreams, but that was besides the point!

he was getting nauseous from the sweetness of his drink and the further he thought about the way you thought of him, he felt that he would ruin the party by vomiting on someone.

his night was officially ruined. absolutely, fundementally, literally ruined.

and thats how he found himself unfocused on everything around him the next day, finally making the decision to consult with his roommates about this frankly, very big conundrum.

"you can't just purposefully leave out important details? like, how am i supposed to diagnose you properly bro?" beomgyu asked as he spammed the keys on his controller.

"you're not diagnosing me--" yeonjun exhaled, wanting to to keep the banter to the minimum in respect to the issue he's facing. "literally what do you think we're doing right now?"

"i'm going to be completely honest and say ...i have no idea-- shit, what the fuck are you doing heeseung? jump! jump!" he yelled towards the big screen in front of him.

yeonjun groaned, turning his head to behind the couch. "soobin, it's not too late to help out your only friend!" he yelled out in hopes of it reaching the guy's bedroom.

and with no response, he turned back to watching the game beomgyu was playing. "god, you know how many times i gave that guy life changing advice on women?"

"and this is how he repays me?"

beomgyu nodded along to whatever yeonjun was mumbling about until the brunette magically connected dots and euphoric realization hit him. beomgyu almost scrambled around to completely face him this time, "hold on, hold on. yeonjun you lost me, are you having girl problems?"

to that, yeonjun rolled his eyes. "i wouldn't call it 'girl problems', that sounds like a problem soobin would have."

"uh-huh ...uh-huh. no, no yeah." beomgyu said nodding mindlessly to save the guy some face. "heeseung i'm logging off dude, yeonjuns got girl problems."

yeonjun just deadpanned to the back of the guys head, having no will to correct him.

he wanted to get the pending issue out of the way first.

it was more situated a few minutes later. instead of beomgyu sitting on the floor criss crossed, leaned on the couch yeonjun was sitting on, beomgyu was now sitting on the chair next to the couch, his elbows on his knees, brows deeply furrowed.

and not to forget yeonjun's pen and paper in hand.

"so... you're trying to get a girl to like you?"

"not like. i want her to see me as someone she would want as a boyfrie--" when he saw beomgyus brow raising up as to say 'whats the difference' he cleared his throat. "yea, basically."

"don't you know how to do that though?"

he shrugged, "it's different this time."

"how?"

"trust me, it's very different."

"okay but how?"

"you'd be the last person i'd ask for an interrogation beomgyu, that'd be a task for like... taehyun or something."

"i'm sorry that i need to understand my client first--"

"i am not your client" yeonjun said, rolling his eyes.

"what's going on here?", yeonjun turned his head to see soobin behind the kitchen island, scooping himself some icecream.

"dude, where were you when i needed you?", yeonjun asked.

"me and yj are holding a dating therapy session."

yeonjun turned his head to beomgyu, "again, it's not a therapy sessio--"

"you're getting dating advice from beomgyu?" soobin asked, his face scrunched up doubting if it really got this bad.

and back to soobin. "when you say it like that.." "soobin can you please leave yeonjun alone? he's in a very vulnerable state right now"

then beomgyu again. "i'm seriously going to beat you up." he said, biting his bottom lip and raising his fist against his roommate. beomgyu immediately jumps dramatically, shielding himself with his arms up.

"see? he's getting violent!"

soobin finally plopped on the couch next to yeonjun with his cup of icecream. "explain it to me, maybe i can help you out."

"i'll save you the trouble, he's not explaining for whatever reason--"

"a girl said that i'm like a brother to her." yeonjun reluctantly mumbled.

a wave of silence hit the dorm, for a minute yeonjun thought they just didn't hear him and to be completely honest, he was about to thank the gods because he regretted saying anything the moment he did, but that thought was immediately shot down when both sides of his ears were being blasted by humiliating laughter.

soobin got up, patting yeonjun's shoulder as reassurance, still laughing. "yeah, good luck with that hyung."

"okay, it's not even that bad--"

"dude, not even cha eunwoo would survive the sibling zone." beomgyu said, a hard reality check for yeonjun. "though hyunbin might.." he mumbled to himself. yeonjun caught it though, but it didn't matter. yeonjun was no hyunbin.

"fuck." he breathed out, the utensils he was holding had lesser grip on them as he just stared into nothingness. beomgyu was right. he's forever stuck as a brother in your eyes.

but then a ring of his phone snaps him out of it.

when he checks the id, his ambition is restored almost immediately for whatever reason; it was you.

"yo why are you smiling?", beomgyu said trying to peep at yeonjun's phone, but yeonjun reflexes took over, and he immediately turned his phone off.

"beomgyu, don't you think i kind of resemble hyunbin?" he said with a head tilt and an overconfident smirk, talking like he just had an epiphany.

"the one from crash landing on you? uh no."

yeonjun jumped from the couch a new man, his pen and paper in one hand and his ringing phone on the other. he finally faced beomgyu as the man he was, choi motherfucking yeonjun. "i gotta answer this call...and also, if you ask anybody who my celebrity doppelganger is, everyone would proudly say its hyunbin dumbass."

then yeonjun left with a smile and a surge of new confidence overtaking his face as he spoke away on the phone with you, while beomgyu was left in the living room more than confused as he looked up the actor on his phone.

instead of finding the difference, beomgyus brain was tasking him into finding the similarities...which, there was one to yeonjun's credit.

black hair.

"when are the others coming?" you asked looking around the crowded floor as yeonjun was buying popcorn and drinks. "the movies about to start.." you mumbled, checking your phone for the hundredth time.

"oh, i guess its just me and you again." he said with the popcorn and bottle of coke finally in his arms.

"again? don't you think this is getting suspicious?" you said as you walked alongside yeonjun, not noticing the way yeonjun just gulped.

you stopped in your tracks, in turn yeonjun bumping into your back a little, a few popcorns dropping on the floor.

"hey...you don't think.." you furrowed your brows, in deep thought. this has been on your mind for a while now. "you don't think they're trying to set us up or something do you?"

after the third time your friends stood you and yeonjun up, you were starting to think they were pushing, what they called, the 'ynjun' agenda..but it was the first time you'd ever bring it up to yeonjun, so you just laughed it off -- scolding your friends will come on a later date.

"nevermind, lets go inside the movie theatre jun."

"ya' y/n, wait."

you turned around to an awkward standing yeonjun at first, but he immediately straightens up and clears his throat, with a smile you've grown so attached to -- the smile that reached his eyes. for something so simple, it made your heart beat a little quicker than normal.

"can you hold the coke for a sec? i'm trynna--i'm trynna do something."

you break into a light laugh, "um, okay." that snapped you out of it because you remember who he was again -- your platonic best friend.

you took the cola bottle off his right arm, expecting him to take his phone out of his pocket to check something.

but as you stared at your sneakers, checking if they're untied, you felt his hand on top of your head, which startled you.

you looked up to meet yeonjuns eyes, a brow raised.

before you could say anything, he ruffled the top of your hair gently, leaning towards you a bit, to shorten the height difference.

"y/n, let this be our first date." your platonic best friend's voice, so warm and gentle you thought you would only hear in dreams, said those words...to you.

"so you asked her out on a date but you don't even like her...? that doesn't make any sense." soobin said, sitting on the couch watching beomgyu hog up the tv screen, his use time running out.

"bros an asshole..but i feel like we knew that already-- fuck you heeseung. you fucking suck ass you need to get off my team." beomgyu yelled.

"okay, first of all, it's not that bad. she doesn't like me at all, plus the date was how we would usually hung out anyway."

soobin just shook his head -- being the only guy with a functioning moral compass amongst the people he called his friends was exhausting.

as soon as he was about to lecture yeonjun, the tv timer goes off -- and that makes his plan a fleeting thought.

"it's my turn now, throw me the remote."

"bro give me a second, let me finish this gam--"

"no! unplug your console." soobin yelled impatiently, he knew better than to let beomgyu go over the timer again.

beomgyu groaned, abandoning heeseung in the game and unplugging his console. when soobin got control of the tv and opened up netflix, beomgyu stood up to sit next to yeonjun -- who had gotten a notification from you.

"yj, who's the chick? you never told us."

"uh, you don't really know her." he mindlessly answered, focused on the messages from you.

[y/n, 9:16 pm] that serenade ..as cringe as it was.. [y/n, 9:16 pm] like lets be serious, there was NO reason for u to get on top of the cafeteria table lol

he hadn't yet told his roommates what he did this morning, thinking that he'd get a longer lecture by soobin.

but he had took inspiration from the movie you guys were watching the other night at the cinema. you talked his ear off about how romantic it was, how you would fall at the feet of dicaprio if he did the same to you..

he was no dicaprio, but he could try is what he thought. and though you forced him to get down half way through, he could still enjoy sharing the laughter, your laughter, that was ringing in his ear.

[yeonjun, 9:17 pm] as cringe as it was...? you're in love w me ;)

he typed it as a joke, a smile tugging on his lips waiting for your reaction to his teasing.

but beomgyu hovered over his phone out of boredom again, and out of instinct yeonjun threw his phone -- the three chois looking at the phone on the floor in shock.

"bro, why are you being so secretive? were you sexting?" beomgyu yelled, accusatory.

"can we collectively have some decency in this house, jesus fucking christ beomgyu." soobin muttered.

"shut up church boy, yeonjun's hiding something for sure."

"or maybe he just wanted some privacy dude?" soobin retaliated.

yeonjun jumped up pointing at soobin, "exactly! exactly! listen to soobin, you were invading my personal space. so not cool beomgyu."

"yeah, okay. you've never agreed with me with this much enthusiasm before. he's hiding something. quick, check his phone." to soobins order, beomgyu was prepared to run to the phone when he made eye contact with the owner -- but yeonjun was quick.

"good god, wait wait. what do you want beomgyu--fuck, if you wanted her name it's y/n alright? the chick's y/n!" yeonjun doesn't do well under pressure, at all.

"what are you talking about--" beomgyu's face morphed into shock with his mouth agape. "--oh my fucking god. yeonjun, y/n's the chick? the one who brother zoned you?" beomgyu yelled.

"yeah...?" he said hesitantly.

"i can't--i just can't. soobin knock some sense into him." beomgyu turned away dramatically, shaking his head.

"yeonjun--" soobin started.

"dude, y/n has been in love with you for like a decade!" beomgyu blurted out, turning to face yeonjun again, interrupting soobin.

"uh..no? guys, i literally told you that she said she sees me as a brother. i saw her telling some guy that at the frat party last week."

beomgyu walked towards yeonjun, grabbing both of his shoulders, shaking him, "she. didn't. brother. zone. you. you stupid fuck!"

"she's been saying that to people because its so obvious that every time she tries moving on, she still likes you." soobin added in.

yeonjun, with his brows furrowed, tore beomgyu's hands off his shoulder -- walking towards his phone.

and it felt like a million thoughts were racing around his head the three seconds it took for him to get his phone, like a storm, a big tornado clouding his mind. but the most heavy was...how long? a fucking decade? and he never noticed?

he found it hard to swallow, almost nervous...that it was true.

the two other chois were staring at him, exchanging glances.

and when he picked up his phone, it was like he feared.

his text was left on read.

yeonjun's roommates were right for once.

all the secret glances he'd catch, a smirk twitching on his face as he pretended not to see, all the times you'd practically asked him out -- he shot it all down subconsciously thinking it was nothing more than coincidences on top of coincidences.

"you know, i was thinking it was weird you freaked out so much about the brother thing. yunjin told you that right to your face like last month and you didn't say anything." beomgyu said as he let himself fall on the couch.

beomgyu was right, he didn't care when yunjin said it.

yeonjun looked at beomgyu, eyes confused. "so...what are you trying to say?"

"maybe you feel the same way...? god, do i have to spell it out for you every single time?" he said dramatically, groaning.

"okay yeonjun. drama's over, go do your walk of shame to your room." soobin said, getting comfortable on the chair again to watch the premier of his show.

"and reflect!" beomgyu shouted out as yeonjun went over to his room, obeying soobin with his phone tight in hand.

"what are we watchin?" beomgyu finally asked, soobin giving him a side eye in response.

"we? beomgyu, i'm not watching another show premier with you again."

"just because my commentary is too good doesn't mean you have to get all jealous--"

yeonjun bursts out of his room through the narrow hallway that lead to the main door, a coat hanging on his right arm as he hurriedly slipped on his sneakers.

it startled both of the guys on the couch, looking over at him with brows raised: what is yeonjun doing?

no one could get a word in, not even beomgyu, before he was totally out of sight.

only adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he shut the door behind him, putting his arms through his padded coat, and sprinting to the elevator -- frantically spamming the button to make him falsely hope the elevator would reach his floor any faster

it wasn't like he had to do something in the ten minutes his head thought he had left, no, it was the realization that had him acting in urgency he never thought he'd have for a girl. all of his stupidity dawning on him -- for fucksake, of course it mattered that you said he was like a brother, it was you.

and as he ran out the building -- his head felt dizzy, not because it was overwhelmed with thoughts, no, this time he only had a few but those were harder to manage his head.

did he ever give up on you in middle school?

did he ever move on from you in highschool?

did he really dump a dream, you -- the dream he had as a boy, with all the other dreams he never thought would happen?

when yeonjun was finally in front of your family house, the one you still chose to live in through your college experience, he moved to where'd he guess the window of your room was.

"y/n?" he shouted out with all the energy he could muster up. he had to bend over his knee to catch his breath, because he would shout your name again.

again, and again, and again.

blood rushed up to his cheeks, not because of the cold, because he was embarrassed -- what if you weren't even here?

he waited, staring up at the window which showed no sign of your room light being on.

but he wouldn't give up, he'd have to try something else.

yeonjun looked down at his feet, the absence of the sun being harder on his vision. there were no rocks, the only thing visible to his eyes were branch sticks which only made him hope that his aim was good enough to get your window a few times.

it wasn't.

when the last stick that he found hit a window that wasn't the one he was trying to aim at - he cursed under his breath, defeated. yeonjun concluded that this was a bigger fail than the fucking time he found out that he was flirting at a family--not a class, reunion.

he could just go back to his dorm and call you is what he thought as he exhaled, a fog escaping his lips into the cold, feeling even more of a loser.

"yeonjun?!" he turned around at the familiar voice calling out for him and his eyes widened, lighting up as they set on your face, finally out of the window, with your room light making it a little easier for him to see your features.

"y/n?" he shouted back, ecstatic.

"what are you doing out here?", you shouted the words slowly so he could pick it up. then add, "it's fucking cold!"

"i just wanted to know" he inhaled, the cold air burning his nostrils, "why you didn't answer my text!"

it was silent, yeonjuns lips agape waiting for a response.

"you're fucking insane!" you said laughs slipping between your words, yeonjun scoffs lightly, a wide smile on his face.

he put his hands up as walls to his mouth to echo his words louder, "for you!" he shouted out in response.

"shut the fuck up!" it was a distant yell, one you both assumed, as you met eye contact, was y/n's neighbors. and then you laughed again at the untimely part of it all.

when you turned away from the window, yeonjun found himself yearningly waiting for you to come back. hands that were in his pockets felt a vibration -- his phone.

he took it out just to see a notification from his, quite frankly, favorite person ever.

[y/n, 10:26 pm] lets talk on here lol

he looked up and saw you at the window again, with you waving your phone at him -- it earned a smile tugging once more, on the ends of his lips.

just how did he manage to ignore overwhelming feelings about you, of you, for the past decade?

[yeonjun, 10:27 pm] come down. i'm not gonna tell u this thru text [y/n, 10:27 pm] why not? [yeonjun, 10:27 pm] don't wanna [y/n, 10:28 pm] youre asking me to get out of my cozy ass room just bcs u dont wanna??

"yeah! basically dumbass!" he shouted, startling your poor self out of your focus on your phone. you glared at him, yeonjun most likely missing it.

[y/n, 10:28 pm] STOP DONT DO THAT THOSE PSYCHOS ARE GOING TO CALL THE COPS ON ME [yeonjun, 10:29 pm] ok then come down before i freeze my fingers off

when you slid your window closed, closing your curtains, he immediately turned to quickly run towards the front of your house. yeonjun leaned on the fence of your porch, smiling with thoughts of you clouding his mind, as he looked up at the moon.

it was all so cliché -- the type of scene his roommates would squeal over and one that he would roll his eyes to, but if he were to watch this part of his life, again and again -- the moment you opened the door, the moment you both exchanged looks that communicated 'we feel the same way don't we?', a short awkward laugh that was shared, the moment you hesitantly opened your mouth to say something -- and then, the final moment of his longing lips crashing onto yours, his cold hands warming up the moment he cupped your face, the repocracy from your side making him smile into the kiss, the euphoric realisation that he wasn't late, you didn't stop loving him yet, and when he cut the kiss short, both your lips barely apart, yeonjun whispered an i love you, and to it you smiled, pulling him into your house, to finish your kiss -- he would too, squeal over the scene, kicking his feet like a highschool girl.

ending a/n: YOU FINISHED IT YAY :D yeonjun was lowk an asshole for wanting to lead on mc at first for his own benefit, but hes such a cutie im sorry, its easy to forgive T-T let me know what you feel about this piece, it was so fun to write!!

7K notes · View notes

jewelleria · 2 months

Text

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

550 notes · View notes

somehow-a-human · 2 months

Text

The Bullet Catch and the Final 15

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Okay, this started as a completely different post. I was writing something else and I had to abandon it because I realized I needed to be writing this instead. It was like a lightbulb moment, or rather, a headlight moment (see what I did there?)

"Banana, Fish, Gorilla, Shoelace, with a dash of Nutmeg." Clearly adversarial forces are capable of seeing what Crowley and Aziraphale are talking about within the bookshop from across the street. It's confirmed the zombies have gotten The Marvellous Mr. Fell's strange magic words correct at the end of the 1941 minisode. Is this foreshadowing the clear observation of the final conversation Aziraphale and Crowley share directly in front of the bookshop window, by the Metatron?

"Aim for my mouth, shoot past my ear". Well if this isn't that damn kiss I don't know what is. And the bullet, the bullet hiding in his mouth. Magicians historically have had keys passed to them through their mouths via a kiss. Crowley sure did aim for that mouth...

"You have formed a de-facto partnership with the demon Crowley." It's a threat, plain and simple. It's the same thing as Furfur showing up in the dressing room with a photograph of the two of them. And what does Aziraphale do both times? He pulls the same fearful face, is terrified for Crowley, and immediately figures out something to quash the threat. Aziraphale is so smart and so fearful for Crowley's safety, he will do whatever it takes, above his own interests to keep him safe.

"Trust me". The bullet catch. God, the stress of this trick, this insane show of trust and love. "You said trust me", "and you did". I have watched season two an unknowable number of times now, and this is still difficult to see on screen, but it's there. Aziraphale mouths, "trust me" and Crowley catches it, and more importantly, trusts him.

This angel knows he's being watched, the love of his life has been threatened, he knows he has no options and he needs to perform a massive trick to save Crowley. Good thing, he always gets it right the time it matters.

Honorable mention: I am an "Aziraphale was trying to signal for a time stop/help to Crowley" truther, here, when it looks like maybe he mimes 'timeout' and "help". I think either Crowley was too blinded by his newfound plan to confess his undying love for Aziraphale to pick up on his "something's wrong voice" or clear non-verbal communication, which we've established this season they are very good at (see Aziraphale asking Crowley to freeze Dalrymple in Edinburgh). OR he did catch the signals and he is LISTENING.

If you haven't read this post by @noneorother about the parallels between The Tales of Hoffmann and GO season 2, you need to. But to snag a small quote of theirs to highlight this one specific point:

"Stella [Aziraphale] arrives in the tavern looking for Hoffmann [Crowley], ready to run away, but now accompanied by Lindoff [Metatron] (dressed as an angelic figure) who followed her. She looks to Hoffmann to save her, but he's too blinded by the fact that he doesn't think she loves him back to pick up on the signal. He gives up, and she goes back up the stairs guided by Lindoff." - @noneorother

Okay but seriously make sure you go read that whole post.

If that isn't what happens in the final 15, what is?

Then we have the end of 1941 pt.2, wine in the backroom, and the reveal of the photograph. Crowley realizes Aziraphale saved him, he realizes how much he can trust him, and if my observed light bulb headlight moment is anything, it happened after the final 15 too. He knows. It's still devastating, it's still heartbreaking, and it doesn't invalidate all the feelings and love they couldn't quite come out and communicate right then. They are living under an Orwellian regime, this isn't really a job they can quit or even run away from. They were angels created for a purpose. Sure gabriel and Beelzebub left, but how long until someone tries to hunt them down? Plus, what's the point if Crowley and Aziraphale abandon Earth and just let armageddon part two happen? That's a pretty shit thing of them to do. They want to live on Earth, they want to protect the humans, and they want to do it together.

They didn't eat the apple, the humans did. Maybe at the end of season 3, they'll get their chance.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens 2 #good omens clues #good omens theories #good omens theory #good omens 1941 #good omens bullet catch

160 notes · View notes

zombisarchive · 4 months

Text

HATE ☆

mdni. long fic. not proof read.

dom! felix catton x sub! f! reader

warnings: slight angst, smut, p in v, degradation, slight biting, slight hair pulling, sub & dom, pet names, slight begging, slight praising, hate fucking, anxious reader

Felix had been upset with me all day. Do I know what I did? no. Over and over again I’ve asked what’s wrong, what did I do, and over and over again I’ve been met with the same reply, “You know what you did.” Call me over dramatic but the way he’s been acting has been eating me alive. What had I done? As the day came to an end, I contemplated on if I should spend the night in his dorm. I paced my dorm room for what felt like hours, my roommate completely tired of me, “what are you doing?” her words snapped me out of my pacing, “Felix is upset with me, and I don’t know what’s I’ve done” She rolled her eyes at me, she hated when I spoke about Felix, mainly because she use to be his old fling, but now that he’s seriously in a relationship with me, she can’t come around to it yet. “It’s serious, Maddie! He won’t even tell me what i’ve done wrong!” And exasperated sigh left my mouth, I felt like i was going crazy. It has been practically a full day and he made no effort in telling me what I’ve actually done to upset him. “Your boy troubles aren’t my problem” Maddie said as she turned her back to me.

Of course she was no help. I decided to take matters into my own hands, I left the dorm room, marching myself to his. Knocking rapidly on his door, he opened the door, assuming I’d be greeted differently he greeted me with a struggle face, “what?” He was still upset at me! “We need to talk..” I said as I fiddled with my fingers, he stepped aside letting me inside the dorm, closing the door behind me. “Go on, speak.” Felix said sternly, if he wasn’t driving me absolutely insane right now, I would have melted at his feet. “What’s been with you today? You’re acting cold, and you’re clearly upset with me! Yet you won’t even tell me what I’ve done!” He rolled his eyes at me, “you seriously aren’t going to own up to it? that’s so pathetically low of you!” Felix’s voice was raises, this took me by surprise. I stood there shocked not saying a word as he continued “Yesterday at that party Far took us to? hm? You were practically throwing yourself to some random man!” My jaw dropped “What?! when the hell did i do that?” “Oh my god stop lying! jesus christ, I can’t your such a slut, just throwing yourself at any man” Felix was fuming at this point, I could see that his ears were turning red, meanwhile I felt like my heart was about to come out of my mouth, did he really think that lowly of me? “your joking right?” Felix let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know if you were too drunk to remember but I clearly remember you throwing yourself at a man” “you’re crazy, I’d never do that! drunk or not!” Truth be told, I was completely wasted, I don’t remember much of that night, other than coming back to Felix’s dorm. “Jesus Christ..” He ran his fingers through his hair stressed out. “I don’t remember much of anything from that night Felix, how am I supposed to remember this? I’m sorry if i did that but you cannot blame me for a drunken act!”

Another frustrated sigh came out of his mouth, then silence, “if your so sorry, beg on your knees for forgiveness.” My jaw dropped a little, as I stared at him, he was completely serious. “okay fine..” Getting down on my knees, I looked up at him, “please forgive me..i’m sorry i flirted with another man..please Felix” A smirk spread across his face, that little shit, he was never really upset, was he? “see, that wasn’t so hard was it baby?..acting like a dumb slut when drunk, can’t believe it” His words shooting straight to my core, I felt hot and bothered. His large hand went straight to my hair tugging at it, my head jerked back as I looked at him more clearly. “your going to be a good girl and get on the bed for, aren’t you?” I nodded my head quickly, feeling him let go of my hair, I scrambled to his small bed. He slowly crawled his way onto the bed, pushing me down, my breath hitched. I felt powerless under his intense gaze. Felix’s hands ran up my thighs, as they stopped at my waist band, pulling my bottoms off roughly, he pushed my legs apart kissing up my thighs, biting at him. A whimper left my lips as he bit down on my thighs hard, “Felix..” I moaned out, as I watched him sit up undoing his belt. “shut up, you’ve pissed me off enough today” Felix said in a husky tone, his fingers run up my slit, sending shivers down my body. I felt his thick long fingers shove their way inside me, pumping inside me, moaning out loudly not caring if anyone heard, calling out for him “Felix!..baby please” whimpers and moans left my mouth, as he continued to fuck me with his fingers, before abruptly pulling them out.

A whine left my lips again, watching him was he pulled out his erect cock, pumping himself in his hand. “You’re going to take it all tonight..raw” I gulped as his words, nodding at them in agreement. “been such a stupid slut haven’t you? whoring yourself out” Felix said as he aligned himself up with me, pushing his cock deep inside me, he groaned as I moaned out, “fuck! Felix!..” I felt him slowly thrust inside me, god did it feel amazing. “gonna teach you a lesson..” He muttered out as he took hold of my hips gripping them tightly, his pace quickens as he thrusts hard. Groaning out for me, I reached out to hold him only to be met with him slapping my hands down, “don’t. you don’t deserve it after slutting around” “I’m sorry!..” I stuttered out over and over, he could tell i’m clearly cock drunk. Being manhandled by him was euphoric. I knew he wasn’t going to let me cum, after all I didn’t deserve it. His pace slightly slowed as his thrusts became stuttered, he was close and I could tell. I clenched myself around his cock, he let out a loud moan, “fuck!” He yelled out, “keep clenching around me like that..fucking hell..” biting my lip I did as I was told, I felt myself moving my hips upward to his thrusts, his nails digging into my skin as he fucked me roughly. Felix let out another groan as I felt him shoot his cum deep inside me. “Felix!” I moaned out feeling him cum inside me, his thrusts slow long down, and coming to a stop completely. He stayed inside me, panting and breathing heavily as he came down from his high.

Felix slowly pulled himself out of me, his hands roaming up to my my body, touching me all over. “you know I don’t mean those words right, Love?” His tone much softer compared to earlier, I nodded as I caught my breath “i know baby” “you were so good for me tonight..” He gave me a stupid smile, as he leaned down kissing up my stomach maintaining eye-contact with me. “How about I let you cum this time?” He said with a stupid grin, I rolled my eyes playfully at him “finally.” “shut up” Felix said with an eye roll.

☆requests open!

☆this was kinda bad. it’s my first time trying to write proper fanfics, w/ smut.

#saltburn #fanfic #jacob elordi fanfic #jacob elordi #felix catton fanfic #felix catton #felix catton smut #angst #saltburn fanfiction #zombisfics☆

182 notes · View notes

etoilesbienne · 2 months

Text

I try to be a fair person I try to be understanding. but I am sick and tired of having to read about the many sins of Léa for being a whistleblower. People are straight up putting words in her mouth for things she did not say.

Frankly I'm a little appalled that the MCYT community can have a huge moment about the heavy amount of misogyny present in the space and come away with the take she didn't actually experience hate from the fan community. No the other admins didn't not experience hate, but she didn't say that. She said she received hate for being the first person to come out. Or how she was discredited repeatedly and the "Jay" document was used to shame her pointedly and make her out to be unreliable and "a hater." Gee whiz I wonder where I've heard "she's just hysterical and took things too seriously and is a vindictive person out to get others projects to fail." That sure sounds familiar. Especially in CC spaces pertaining to women. Why would she be exempt from misogyny at the hands of the fandom?

Though the way people behave about former admins expressing frustration at the lack of internal translation is making me crazy. There is nothing wrong with Quackity speaking his native language in a stream for announcement. None of these admins ever said he was at fault for speaking Spanish, they were criticizing the lack of internal communication outside of the streams, and the fact the studios had no official translators on payroll to help with communication issues between languages. They aren't asking for him to speak English, tbf most of these admins don't even have English as a first language, why would they want a stream in a different language they aren't fluent in? I don't think Léa was expecting Quackity to suddenly start speaking French. They're asking for translations in the languages they do speak so they can understand these important announcements about their jobs, because they were not receiving the information about these announcements any other way. To be honest it still boggles my mind, even after all of this, that QStudios never even had official translators to relay messages between Quackity to other streamers and admins. Regardless, I feel like people are interpreting this pretty fair criticism of the complete lack of translation to non-English languages impeding the already barely existent communication to be as bad faith as possible from every side. On one hand you have people choosing to believe that is what the admins are saying and agreeing with it and then being racist toward Quackity over it, on the other hand you have people choosing to believe the admins are being racist toward Quackity and sending them hate over it. I'd be insane to deny racism toward Quackity wasn't also happening though.

I don't know what else to say than people who have been working insane hours for months on end to be exploited, and they're upset. This is a server a lot of people cared about as fans, of course the first person to come out and reveal the terrible conditions is going to receive the most amount of hate over this specific instance. It's not an unfounded claim. Have you seen the shit people say about Léa on twitter? It also doesn't mean the other admins didn't receive hate in their own regard, it's just the first person to come out is usually the biggest punching bag for it. Misogyny didn't magically dissipate from the fandom with the removal of a few problem CC. My god hear yourselves and the way you talk about a woman coming out as receiving workplace abuse.

#discourse #neg #qadmin situation #fandom neg #crit #fandom crit #qsmp crit #qsmp neg #im just very irritated. its like any consideration of misogyny goes out the window #as soon as its over someone whos deemed uncredible or bad

64 notes · View notes

it-was-too-cold-always · 9 months

Text

Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: As the Reader processes her role in this experiment, Bucky becomes more and more intrigued with her. He decides that his pardon is not worth her life, consequences be damned.

Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, eventual smut, lots of angst

As soon as you left the room, Bucky let out a long, exasperated sigh. Fuck this, he thought, it’s not worth it. Bucky knew when he sought pardon for all his crimes as the Winter Soldier, it came with a price to pay. He knew they were going to run tests to try to recreate the serum. Granted, Bucky never thought they’d try to create super soldiers quite like this, which sent him into a blind rage. Hence why he’s on thin ice with SHIELD – turns out they don’t like it when you beat the shit out of their agents. But his rage was justifiable. Mandatory baby making? Talk about throwing consent out the window. He’s done enough harm as the Winter Soldier – making a woman to have sex with him so she can carry his child sounds like the opposite of making amends. So he decided that the only way he could morally proceed with the study is if he marries her; he can’t let her feel the cold and empty life of being a science experiment. With this new plan, he was able to swallow the idea of the study. But when he saw the dazed look on your face, the shock and fear settling into your eyes, he decided his pardon wasn’t worth it. He’d rather be locked in a cell for the rest of his days than subject you to this study…and to him.

You, on the other hand, were still in complete shock. A string of ‘holy shit’s were on a loop in your brain. You made your way up to the hotel room, ready to crawl into bed and mull over everything that just happened. I just met THE Bucky Barnes, you thought. Seriously? Quit fangirling and focus. They said you had to make super soldier babies. Surely it’ll be like IVF, right? No, you remember that guy saying something about if they fertilize too many eggs inside you, you could die. It had to be organically. Meaning sex…with Bucky Barnes. You’d think after crushing over this man for most of your life, you’d feel a little less devastated. But the whole “experiment” aspect of it really sucks out any potential for romance. With a heavy sigh, you decided not to think about it until tomorrow. Right now, it’s time for bed.

You woke up insanely early after tossing and turning all night. 3:37 AM. The goon squad said they would pick you up at 9 to start prep for the study. Better kiss your IUD goodbye. Don’t they say it can take a couple months before you can get pregnant? That could give you and Bucky enough time to get to know one another, so the whole sex part won’t be as awkward. But that lady did say that she’s moving up the timeline – boy, this was stressful. Not only did you have to get pregnant, but you’re on a time crunch. You never really did well under pressure.

Bucky also couldn’t sleep, replaying the entire interaction with you over and over, analyzing as much as he could. You came into the room dazed and confused; when your eyes met his, he saw you tense up. He anticipated not being well-received – he was, after all, an infamous Hydra killer. What he couldn’t wrap his head around was the look in your eyes afterwards. You seemed almost relieved. He couldn’t understand why. He HAD to be reading you wrong. So he replayed that moment over and over, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Your dark eyes hiding under thick lashes. The deep red blush on your cheeks. The way you fidgeted with your hands. All these details rolling around in his mind. The more he thought about that moment, the more he felt protective of you. He couldn’t let you be a lab rat, pardon be damned.

Finally, 9:00 came around and you soon found yourself back in an exam room at SHIELD. You were right on the verge of passing out from the IUD removal when you heard a commotion down the hall. The doctor quickly finished yanking it out of your cervix and ran off to god knows where. You heard what sounded like hand-to-hand combat – punches landing, grunting, some bones breaking. Suddenly the door to the exam room busts open, causing you to nearly shit your pants (if you were wearing any, you were still clad in nothing but a hospital gown). Bucky’s metal arm was gripping some guy’s throat, dragging him across the room.

“Get dressed,” he ordered.

Your brain was desperately trying to process his command. Dressed, right. Clothes. Where are my clothes? It was hard to think with severe cramping and being a little woozy from that damn IUD removal. While you shimmied off the exam table, Bucky tossed the now passed out guy onto the floor, looking for something. He found your clothes and purse, throwing them at you. He turned around and waited for you to put them on.

“You done?” he asked. “I’m getting you out of here. Follow me and stay close.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” You were always such a rule follower. God forbid you get in trouble. “Bucky, that lady said you’re already in hot water. Let’s not make this worse, yeah?”

Before he could respond, several agents pop out from the hallway, guns trained right on him.

“Barnes, enough is enough. Quit throwing your little tantrum and get back to your exam room.” It was the same lady from yesterday.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me? Can’t have your little experiment if I’m dead,” Bucky taunted. Without skipping a beat, the woman fired one shot straight into his right shoulder. Agents approached to escort him out of the room, but he threw one of them into the wall with his metal arm. In response, the other agents whipped out taser batons that looked scary as hell.

“Bucky stop,” you pleaded. You were traumatized enough watching him literally get shot, you didn’t need to see him beat the shit out of the other agents while they tased him with their fancy sticks. To your surprise, he actually listened to you. He put his hands up in surrender, dropping the guy he had in a chokehold. He looked over at you defeatedly, knowing his window for breaking you out was now closed.

Chapter 4

Taglist 💛

@kandis-mom

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader

184 notes · View notes

headchamberlain · 3 months

Text

The confession of Ivan Goncharov.

TW: TWISTED religious imagery, excusing abuse and even calling it a blessing, unhealthy obsession, overall disturbing things.

In this I'll be trying to flesh out Ivan's character, why he's the way he is and how the lobotomy affects him today. This is written from his perspective. Take the tags seriously, please.

...

"IT ALL STARTED SO LONG AGO. HOW LONG AGO? I CANT REMEMBER. I DONT NEED TO REMEMBER. ANYTHING BEFORE MEETING YOU IS INSIGNIFICANT. MY FAMILY... MY FRIENDS- IF I HAD ANY- THEYRE INSIGNIFICANT NOW. NOTHING BUT SOMETHING I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE, SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR, BUT THEY DONT UNDERSTAND ME. THEY DONT UNDERSTAND ME LIKE YOU DO, MASTER.

I WAS STRUGGLING. I COULDNT CONTROL ANYTHING. NOT EVEN MY OWN LIFE. IT KEPT GOING DOWNHILL. I WAS HANGING ON- I HUNG ON BY A THREAD- BUT EVEN THEN I GAVE UP AND LET GO. I WAS SO LONELY. WHAT DID YOU SEE IN ME, MASTER? I WAS HOPELESS. I WAS WEAK. ID LOST MY FAITH; IN FACT I BELIEVED GOD HATED ME. I BELIEVED GOD JUST WANTED ME TO SUFFER FOR HIS ENTERTAINMENT. BUT THAT WAS UNTIL YOU CAME. YOU OFFERED ME A HAND. YOU SAID I HAD THE POTENTIAL TO BECOME MORE THAN WHAT I AM. I DIDNT BELIEVE YOU. YOU TOLD ME YOU HAD A WAY TO FIX ME- TO MAKE SURE I NEVER FELT THOSE HIDEOUS, HORRIBLE EMOTIONS AGAIN. I WAS INTERESTED. I TOOK YOUR HAND. YOUR HAND WAS SO COLD, MASTER... BUT IT WAS SO WARM. YOUR FINGERS WERE BONY AND THIN. YOU WERE SO PALE. YOU WERE SO TIRED. I COULD TELL YOU WERE WEAK, TOO. BUY YOU WERE FAR FROM THAT.

A SURGERY, YOU SAID. A SURGERY THAT WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY AGAIN. FOREVER. I TOLD YOU THAT WAS INSANE; I TOLD YOU THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE. BUT YOU TOLD ME TO THINK ABOUT IT. WOULD I GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN? WOULD MY LIFE EVER GET BETTER? YOU WERE A MESSENGER FROM GOD, I REALIZED. YOU HAD ANGELS AT YOUR HAND, WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER. WHY ME, I ASKED. WHY AM I BEING CHOSEN TO BE BLESSED? WHY IS A PIECE OF FILTH LIKE ME CAPABLE OF HAVING THIS KINDNESS? BECAUSE, YOU TOLD ME, THAT YOU SPOKE WITH GOD. AND GOD SAID HE NEEDED ME TO LIVE.

YOU ARE A BLESSING, MASTER. YOU REALLY ARE. I COULD WORSHIP YOU. I COULD WORSHIP EVERYTHING YOU DO. IF I DIED I WOULD WANT TO DIE WORSHIPPING YOU. PEOPLE TOLD ME I WAS INSANE, THAT I WOULD GO TO HELL FOR WORSHIPPING YOU; BUT I KNOW THEY WERE WRONG. THEY HADN'T HAD A CHANCE TO MEET YOU. YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND YOUR ACTIONS LIKE I DO, MASTER. PEOPLE SAID WHAT YOU DID WAS EVIL; SUCH HENIOUS CRIMES, THEY WOULD SAY. BUT IS DESTRUCTION AND WAR REALLY A SIN? IS IT NOT CONSIDERED RIGHTEOUS? WHEN THE ANGELS CAME DOWN WITH TRUMPETS TO DESTROY THE EARTH, WAS IT NOT GOD'S WILL? WAS IT NOT HIS WILL TO TURN THE RIVERS AND LAKES TO BLOOD, TO UNLEASH DEMONS THAT SPOKE BLASPHEMOUS THINGS? YOU ARE RE-CONSTRUCTING THE EARTH. WHEN BUILDINGS FALL AND BURN, WHEN PEOPLE DIE, YOU ARE DOING IT TO FREE THE WORLD OF SIN. WHEN GOD FLOODED THE EARTH THAT IS WHAT HE DID. HE PROMISED HE WOULDN'T DO IT AGAIN. SO HE SENT YOU INSTEAD. EVEM GOD'S LOVE HAS LIMITS.

AFTER MY SURGERY, I WAS TERRIFIED, MASTER. I WAS TERRIFIED. I PICKED UP A PEN; BUT NOTHING CAME TO MIND. I COULDN'T WRITE. I COULDN'T READ. I SOBBED, MASTER, I SOBBED; BUT I SOBBED WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. WASN'T MY VOICE SO BEAUTIFUL? WASN'T IT BEAUTIFUL THAT I CHOKED AND SOBBED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE LORD? WASN'T IT BEAUTIFUL HOW I COULDN'T GET A WORD OUT, HOW FAT TEARS ROLLED DOWN MY CHEEKS AND STAINED THE CARPET? YOU WEREN'T ANGRY AT ME. YOU BLESSED ME AGAIN, MASTER. YOU BLESSED ME WITH PURPOSE; I LEARNED EVERYTHING FOR YOU. I LEARNED HOW TO COOK, I LEARNED HOW TO CLEAN, I LEARNED YOUR TASTES. WHAT KIND OF TEA YOU LIKE, WHAT FABRICS YOU PREFER, HOW WARM YOU WANT YOUR BATH. I LEARNED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU AND I MENORIZED IT. THAT IS MY ONLY PURPOSE, MASTER, TO SERVE YOU.

I WELCOMED EACH BLESSING YOU GAVE ME; I WELCOMED THE BRUISES YOU GAVE ME, I WELCOMED THEM ALL. I WANT YOU TO HIT ME ALL YOU WANT AND THEN KISS THE BRUISES AFTERWARDS. I WANT YOU TO TEAR ME APART AND SAY SORRY AFTERWARDS, EVEN IF I KNOW YOU DON'T MEAN IT, EVEN IF I KNOW YOU'LL DO IT AGAIN. OVER AND OVER.

IS IT SO WRONG FOR ME TO BE YOUR TOY? IS IT REALLY SO WRONG? IS IT SO WRONG FOR ME TO BE YOUR SOURCE OF ENTERTAINMENT? BEING GOD'S FAVOURITE COMES WITH RESPONSIBILITIES. GOD NEEDS SOMEONE TO HURT, SOMEONE TO TOY WITH, SOMEONE TO RUIN. THAT'S OKAY. I AM YOUR ANGEL. I AM YOUR ANGEL.

AREN'T I BEAUTIFUL, MASTER? PLEASE SAY I'M BEAUTIFUL. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME AND ILL BE BEGGING FOR YOUR ATTENTION LIKE A DOG. IM A NERVOUS DOG. IM A BAD DOG. I WAIT BY THE DOOR EVEN IF I KNOW ILL STARVE BY IT. PLEASE LOOK AT ME MASTER. PLEASE LOVE ME. I LOVE YOU MASTER. PLEASE LOOK AT ME. PLEASE LOOK AT ME, I'M BEGGING YOU, MASTER, DONT STOP BEING MY SAVIOR. DON'T STOP BEING THE ONE PERSON I RELY ON. I CANT FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU. I KNOW YOU SO MUCH IVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING ABOUT MYSELF. I DONT HAVE MY OWN ROUTINE; MY LIFE REVOLVES AROUND YOU. I CANT LEAVE YOU EVEN IF I WAS GIVEN A CHANCE TO, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU MASTER

IM YOUR PERFECT SACRIFICAL LAMB. MY WOOL IS SO PURE AND WHITE AND FLUFFY AND SOFT. WHEN THEY LEAD ME TO YOU THEY DONT HAVE TO TIE ME DOWN- I HOLD PERFECTLY STILL WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. AS THE KNIFE DIGS INTO ME MY INTESTINES SPILL OUT SO BEAUTIFULLY AND CLEANLY AND IT STAINS MY PRETTY WOOL RED. WHEN I DIE YOU REVIVE ME AGAIN AND YOU TELL ME IM YOUR FAVOURITE. YOU DONT REVIVE THE OTHER LAMBS BECAUSE IM YOUR FAVOURITE. I TROT ALONG SO HAPPILY BECAUSE IM YOUR FAVOURITE. IM SO PURE LIKE A PORCELAIN DOLL LIKE A FLOWER LIKE AN ANGEL THAT LOST ITS WINGS.

PLEASE LOOK AT ME MASTER.

PLEASE.

I SEE THEM. I SEE THEM EVERY DAY AND THEY KEEP TELLING ME YOU DONT LOVE ME. SOMETIMES I SEE IT IN THE CORNER OF MY EYE. SOMETIMES THEY WHISPER MY NAME EVER SO SOFTLY; THEY TELL ME YOU DONT LOVE ME. THATS NOT TRUE, MASTER. I LOVE YOU. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. SAY IT BACK. SAY IT BACK OR IM GONNA HAVE TO BEG YOU"

... -Written by Kiji.

If you've actually read all of this; I'm proud!

44 notes · View notes

mabelstone · 8 months

Text

Undressed

matt stone x reader

your classmate needs tutoring, but theres only one way to keep his attention.

18+

this is my favourite trope ever (they're both of age!!)

arrogant/cocky matt <333

Your classmate, Matt, was bright. Like, insanely smart. From what you understood, he was getting straight A's in every subject, which was why you were so confused when he asked you to study with him. Turns out, he was failing english by a lot.

"You're serious?" You laughed in his face, expression dropping when he folded his arms, deadpan. "Oh, you are serious."

"You owe me," he retorted matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn't have passed math without me."

"Fine," you huffed, defeated by the stupid look on his face. "Then we're even."

"Sure, if that makes you feel better."

So here you were. Patiently awaiting his arrival with The Crucible by Arthur Miller sprawled on your desk, filled with a thousand sticky notes and a practice quiz you'd made for him.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your bedroom door swung open, revealing the arrogant, gangly boy from class.

"Jesus christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack," you gasped, already annoyed with him. He set his bag onto the floor and made himself comfortable on your bed, giving you nothing more than a shrug. "How'd you get in?"

"Your mom let me in," he raised an eyebrow as if you should've known. "I see where you get your looks from."

You cursed yourself for the blush that spread across your cheeks, rolling your eyes before grabbing the mock exam.

"Shoes off," you grumbled, earning a groan from Matt. "Okay, did you read the book or not?"

"I did, it was just painfully, painfully boring."

You situated yourself beside him, eyes bashfully wandering over his body. Toned arms holding himself up, the light brown happy trail exposed as his shirt rode up. Beautiful auburn curls that took the attention away from that breathtaking face. God, that nose.

"Well, no shit. I made you an exam buster to see what we need to work on." You handed him the paper for him to look over, but instead, he just stared blankly at you. "Don't give me that look. Just give it a try."

"Fine," he sighed, laying back on your bed with his hands behind his head. "Go ahead."

"Okay. Question one; how is Salem governed?"

"What? I don't fucking know?"

"Theocracy. Question two; why did Elizabeth fire Abigail?"

"She was a whore," he laughed, earning an eye roll from you. "What? She was."

"Why aren't you taking this seriously?" You pouted, folding your arms over your chest. God, you really were like your mother.

"Look, dude, the whole tutor thing is really doing it for me, but this is stupid. I'm bored already."

"Then how do you suggest I make this more interesting?"

This prick. You were trying to do something nice for him. But he was always, always so damn hard to please.

"You could take your clothes off," he suggested, sitting up to face you now.

"What? Take my clothes off?" You laughed, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze as he scanned our figure. "Can you be serious for five seconds?"

"I am being serious," he continued to undress you with his eyes, not ashamed in the slightest. "If you take your clothes off, I'll be more inclined to try harder."

You pondered for a moment, watching your mums car pull out of the driveway right on queue. It had to be a sign.

"Fine," you finally decided, standing to lock your door. "And if you get a question wrong?"

"Then- then I'll take my clothes off. Deal?"

He had that same smug look you'd grown so familiar with, except this time, it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your heat.

"Deal," you grinned, snatching the mock exam off the bed as he repositioned himself against your pillows. "I can't wait to see you in nothing but your socks while I'm putting on extra layers."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. This could be my favourite book." He grinned up at you, making you question if him failing was all just a rouse to get in your pants. It was working.

"Okay, smartass. What does Mrs. Putnam blame the death of her children on?"

"Easy, witchcraft," he answered fast, responding to a text on his phone before gesturing with his hand. "Why don't you take your shirt off first." Still, eyes glued to his phone.

Frustration at his attitude rose within you, but was soon overloaded with excitement as you followed his request, throwing your shirt at him. "Off your phone. No cheating."

He dropped his phone on his chest and threw his hands up in defence, eyes raking over your chest. "Cute bra. Take it off next."

"No, that's not how this works." You rolled your eyes for the hundredth time, it was like a reflex when you were around him. "What commandment does John Proctor forget when Reverent Hale questions him?"

"Uh... thou shall not kill?"

"Uh-uh. Shirt off, thanks."

You stared as he sighed, sitting up to pull his shirt over his head, throwing in on the floor before your feet, laying back where he was now. He was quite thin, but toned. Big, broad shoulders with prominent collarbones. That happy trail alone almost made you fold.

"Okay," you swallowed thickly before continuing, "why can't Elizabeth be hanged if found guilty?"

"She's pregnant," he smiled wide as your expression dropped. He was totally pulling your leg, he had to have been pretending to not know the answers. "Take your underwear off before your skirt. And chuck 'em here."

"You're a creep," you huffed, obliging nevertheless. You slipped them off from under your skirt, flinging them in his direction. You couldn't suppress the shaky breath that escaped you when he pocketed them.

Just as you opened your mouth, Matt cut you off. "I'll ask you one now. What happens to John at the end?"

"He's hanged," you laughed at his poor attempt to catch you out. "For that, take off your pants."

"Fair," he grinned, standing to pull off his pants, revealing a sizeable tent forming in his briefs.

He towered over you, eyes shamelessly wandering your frame, that gapped toothed smile that made you queasy on full display. His fingers grazed your waist, goosebumps forming under his light touch. You grabbed his wrist and gently pushed him back onto the bed by his chest.

"That bra comes off next," he commanded, eyelids hooding as he gazed up at you.

You nodded, offering, "if you get this right, you can take it off for me."

He nodded eagerly, a wet patch now formed on the front of his briefs.

"What did Parris catch his daughter doing in act one?"

"Dancing, right?"

You nodded meekly, stepping in between his legs. His eyes lit up as he reached around your back, slender fingers unclipping your bra with ease. You slipped it off, dropping it into his lap.

The quietest profanity fell from his lips, pupils fully blown at this point. You grabbed his wrist and guided it to your breast, the warmth of hand making you shiver in contrast to the cold air of your bedroom.

"What's Parris' position in Salem?" Your voice was softer than before, heart beginning to race under his touch, and he could no doubt feel it.

"Who gives a fuck." He grabbed your hips, pulling you down to straddle him, smashing his lips into yours.

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect," you mumbled against his lips, fingers hooking into the band of his briefs.

He chuckled deeply, tapping your waist for you to stand up. He pulled his briefs off while you discarded your skirt, grabbing you by the wrist before pulling you back onto him. He brought his fingers to your lips for you to spit, before lathering it over his length. He then dipped his fingers into your heat, collecting your wetness before doing the same with it.

"Thank you for helping me study- very effective." He grinned, lining himself up with your hole. He slid into you forcefully, both of you gasping in unison. His hands found their way to your ass, fingers digging into the plush skin hard, urging you to bounce faster in time with his thrusts.

"God, like that," he groaned, one of his hands grabbing the back of your neck, connecting your lips again. His kisses were rough, messy. Tongue exploring the expanse of your mouth, his teeth digging into your lip occasionally, struggling to keep your lips locked with the rapid pace he was fucking you at.

He flipped you onto your back, hands still pawing at your ass. Catching you completely off guard, he lifted you off the bed with him, slamming your back into the wall. He continued his pace, using one hand to brush your hair from your face.

"Matt," his name; a warning, escaped your lips in a whimper, your forehead falling against his as you reached your peak embarrassingly fast.

"Tha's it, good girl," he coaxed as you came down, legs trembling around his waist, mouth uncomfortably dry from panting.

"Fuck," he warned you this time, picking you up even higher, pulling out before shooting hot ribbons all over your chests and stomachs. Exhausted, you both stood there panting momentarily, your harms draping his shoulders as you rested your forehead against his. He set you down on the bed before collapsing beside you.

You hadn't even finished the game you were playing, both still in your socks.

He strung his arm over your sticky waist, breaking the silence.

"Now we're even."

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #matt stone smut

90 notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 13 days

Note

Girlie (gn) you hate Maeve? You have good taste I see, I fucking hated her (well strongly disliked but still) mary sue is such a perfect term, she was just boring and I feel Spencer felt so wet and weepy with her

i don't hate maeve so much as i hate the maeve plotline! i think strongly dislike is a really good phrase to use when talking about my feelings towards maeve's character.

as a character, she's super flat and one dimensional. i think she and spencer were "together" for eight months(?) and the episode where you learn the most about her is the one where she fucking dies. i've spent all day thinking about this and im beginning to think that part of the reason why she is a mary sue is that spencer tends to put people he cares about on pedestals and ignores their flaws.

and youre like "what flaws does she have if you barely know anything about her" and okay i'll tell you:

b-12 and magnesium as a treatment for migraines is fucking insane. i'm not saying it couldn't work, but all through season 6 (re: 6x12 "corazon") spencer is seeing doctors and anyone who has ever dealt with a fuckass chronic disease/illness will tell you that a blood panel like that would be one of the first steps in reaching a diagnosis!!!

why on god's green earth would you have a stalker, be dating an fbi agent, and not let your fbi agent boyfriend help you? i have been stalked before!!!! it's not fun!!!!! i'd take all the help i could've gotten at the time. this has always rubbed me the wrong way because oh my god the solution was right there the whole time. he could have protected you! he would have protected you!

i know they weren't technically doctor/patient but there is still some weird power dynamic in their relationship that gives me the ick. other than they're smart and they read, they really dont have much in common.

their relationship to me is equivalent to the girl i dated online after we met through percy jackson fan accounts. i.e. not really a relationship. most of their interaction was off screen and i think that did a huge detriment to the plot.

in the end, i think the maeve storyline and 8x12 "zugzwang" is a hard watch. i can't take it seriously. i'd skip it, but then i'd miss so much blake content (and hotch looks so good in that episode sorry spencer) (not into the fuckass bob in season 8). at the same time, i know it was like... mgg's idea and i'm pretty sure he's friends with beth riesgraf. (he loves to traumatize himself idk). but the whole thing gets messier when you think about the implications left by 14x15 "truth or dare" and the abhorrent jeid plot in season 15 where it's insinuated that spencer has been in love with jj for fifteen years (zoinks) and it's like what about maeve??? i don't know man (gn) i could go on for hours about this

that being said, i see a lot of people not liking the actress who plays maeve. i am telling you that it had to have been the writing or the directing in the episodes because beth riesgraf is incredible. she played a character named parker in the tv show leverage (one of my favorite tv shows of all time) and let me tell you That Is Her Role.

jesus this was long i had more to say than i thought sorry thank you anon

#maeve haters rise up #spencer reid #maeve donovan #margot speaks #margot's asks #anon

52 notes · View notes

morlock-holmes · 9 months

Text

The real reason that nonviolence is considered to be a virtue in Negroes—I am not speaking now of its racial value, another matter altogether— is that white men do not want their lives, their self-image, or their property threatened. One wishes they would say so more often. At the end of a television program on which Malcom X and I both appeared, Malcolm was stopped by a white member of the audience who said, “I have a thousand dollars and an acre of land. What’s going to happen to me?” I admired the directness of the man’s question, but I didn’t hear Malcolm’s reply, because I was trying to explain to someone else that the situation of the Irish a hundred years ago and the situation of the Negro today cannot very usefully be compared. Negroes were brought here in chains long before the Irish ever thought of leaving Ireland; what manner of consolation is it to be told that emigrants arriving here—voluntarily—long after you did have risen far above you? In the hall, as I was waiting for the elevator, someone shook my hand and said, “Goodbye, Mr. James Baldwin. We'll soon be addressing you as Mr. James X.” And I thought, for an awful moment, My God, if this goes on much longer, you probably will.

James Baldwin - The Fire Next TIme

Man, man I followed a chain of links and found that paper, "Decolonization is not a metaphor" and I read like three quarters of the dang thing before I realized that we all already got mad at it because it is morally insane.

This is less about the idea of a literal mass expropriation of land, and therefore wealth, from the current owners in the US, which A) is not going to happen any time soon (Land acknowledgements are acknowledging that you ain't giving the damn land back to anybody); and B) if you tell me that the land I live in will be given to the local indigenous people my first question is,

"So will they be raising the rent as much as the previous owners did?"

What's morally insane is... Okay, no, I object to the idea that the question is irrelevent, although the authors of the paper do say fairly explicitly that it is wholly irrelevant.

What I find morally insane about the paper is not the idea that the authors wish to ignore my feelings on the matter, but the very strong suggestion that I should train myself not to have an opinion on the matter.

I linked the paper up there, I don't want to summarize too much, but essentially, it posits a triad of indiginous person/settler/slave, which in the US context maps more or less onto Native American/white/black.

Indigenous peoples are those who have creation stories, not colonization stories, about how we/they came to be in a particular place - indeed how we/they came to be a place. Our/their relationships to land comprise our/their epistemologies, ontologies, and cosmologies. For the settlers, Indigenous peoples are in the way and, in the destruction of Indigenous peoples, Indigenous communities, and over time and through law and policy, Indigenous peoples’ claims to land under settler regimes, land is recast as property and as a resource.

Settler, in this paper, is not meant very literally. The settlement of the US involved not just the theft of land specifically, but the creation of certain narratives about who has rights to use land and in what way. My ancestors in this country go back hundreds of years but they are, to our best knowledge, legally white, and I am therefore a settler in the sense of having a certain relationship to certain racial and conceptual categories.

Don't get me wrong: the history of this country makes at least certain versions of that idea very plausible.

So what am I supposed to do with that?

If I take the authors of this paper morally seriously, (And once I took similar views very seriously, in some ways I still do) where does that put me?

Settlers in a country like the US do not and cannot have a creation story about how we came to be in a certain place. That I am a settler in the US very much does not make me somehow indigenous to Brittany where many of my ancestors come from; I do not have a story of how my people came to be in Brittany or Great Brittain any more than I have one for how we came to be in the USA.

What I can become, perhaps, is an immigrant:

Settlers are not immigrants. Immigrants are beholden to the Indigenous laws and epistemologies of the lands they migrate to.

Here's a question: How, as a settler, would I acquire the moral right to influence the laws and epistemologies of whichever land I should migrate to?

I don't have the legitimizing moral narratives that indigenous peoples do, am I doomed to simply occupy a subordinate place in a new hierarchy?

The authors, I should note, explicitly say no, but also explicitly say that they basically can't explain why not and so I just shouldn't worry about the question for now.

Honestly I think a tremendous amount of American history involves attempts to deal, psychologically, with the fact that the question of who has power and who doesn't has been decided in a way which is at odds with most of our country's moral pretensions. I think that shame has been one of the great psychological factors driving white attitudes in the US, both racist and anti-racist.

Think about what the "moves to innocence" that the authors delineate would mean if you took their moral position seriously. Those moves to innocence are attempts, I am quite sure, to find a way to act in the world for your own benefit without feeling shame. The indigenous person can ask for the control of the land they occupy without shame; for the settler, even to occupy the land is to make yourself part of a shameful process.

"Decolonization is not a metaphor" treats the desire to express oneself without feeling shame around it as essentially a distraction.

The settler is simultaneously morally obligated to exercise a tremendous amount of power and effort, because how could the non-metaphorical expropriation of all US land and the end of the USA as a functioning state take anything other than a tremendous amount of power and effort, but also to have no thought at all about what the ethical exercise of power from a settler would look like.

It is morally imperative that the settler begin to act and use his power in a moral way and at the same time the very question of how the settler would do so is understood as a frustrating distraction from more important questions.

The only possible response for a person who takes this seriously and conceives of themselves as a settler is to just fall back on an entirely incoherent self-image because the demands being made of them are fundamentally incoherent, to feel a kind of shame without shame.

I have probably over-explained this and yet not quite gotten to the central problem. I really disagree with this paper, and I think it is fundamentally unserious and fundamentally poisonous.

Not because the authors propose a massive reorganization of land but because they are utterly unwilling to think about what that would mean on any level whatsoever.

#politics #discourse #Yes I still am very angry at this stuff #I admire the james baldwin quote I used just to be clear

143 notes · View notes

sourbinnie · 1 year

Text

2:54

fuck you for playing games with my heart | ex!seungmin x gn!reader angsty angst | and leaving me in the dark

a/n: considering expanding the sooner or later / tangerine series, still don't know what i'm gonna do so if i'm slow on the requests on that, am sorry.

"why did you show up?"

i asked in the thin night air as i tried to compose myself and remain as relaxed as i could even if anxiety was hitting every nerve. i was still dressed up in the middle of my own wedding night. yeah the most "magical" day of my life was being torn apart slowly as i stood in front of him. him being my ex, the last one i had before i met my now first husband. every part of me was telling me to kick him out right now but i couldn't do it even if i tried to, he had been a part of my life so long and things were better (well that's what i said).

"i had to see you." he responded as composed as ever. i just rolled my eyes because of how cliche it was all being, he had to see me for what? he did not want to see me before. his cruel words resonated in my head but i just wiped the thoughts away as i did not have to be upset tonight. even now hiding from my guests and the scenery felt wrong, just to talk to him and for him to tell me he had to see me. "you look beautiful."

"you don't get to call me that anymore." i said crossing my arms but still feeling the light blush meet my cheeks. it was the effect he had on me unfortunately but it was too late now for lovey dovey stuff. i could not process any more bullshit after all i went through, how he left me in the dark for so long.

"i guess i don't but i'm sure he doesn't call you that enough." he responded and i just shot a glare, washing all the confidence he had in him away. who was he to say these things? no one. he might've been someone in my past but right now he was just someone i didn't know at all with the words that were falling from his mouth. "listen i just had to see that this was happening for real."

"why? why do you care?" i ask annoyed at this point. i just wanted to be out with my husband enjoying my wedding and not have to worry about seungmin right now. yet my feet remained on the ground as i listened to every word he was saying and i couldn't even look him in the eye.

"you're right. it's been so long that i should not care about it but i do." he said and the confusion began. why would he still be holding on? after leaving me in the dust and dark for what felt like an eternity. he should be happy right now, not hoping he would get me back if i was reading things correctly. "i care about you (y/n), i always will."

"well i don't." i said and that was a lie that he could detect easily. "even if i did still care about you, i am happy now. i found someone who gives me what you promised to for so long but never did."

"and i'm sorry about that." the apology arrived way too late from his lips and i just sighed, shaking my head. there was no way i was gonna give him a pass just because he decided to show up and apologize at my wedding of all places. "i know you still care. i know you hope it was me and not hyunjin, he's bad news (y/n) and he's gonna end up breaking your heart way worse than i did."

"oh so now you care about that? you like saying things but literally it's all bullshit. he treats me way better than you ever did and i'm not gonna let him go." i said firmly and just breathed for a second because i was seriously getting mad at him. "if you really did care about me, you would let me go."

"you should really stop lying to yourself for a moment. i know what i did was wrong and that you're already with someone else, it's not like i don't get that i was too late. but we can still go and leave this all behind, pretend that it never happened. i know it sounds fucking insane but you're the only one for me and i need to put up a fight for who i think it's the love of my life, the one that i truly want." he said and i just laughed, i could not believe his words at all. the bold move he pulled in the day that i was dreaming for so long.

"you really think you did something there. i'm not leaving and even less with you, not even wanting to consider it. you should be going right now because you embarrassed yourself enough and i should be present at my wedding." i said but he grabbed my wrist as i was trying to leave and looked me in the eye, for the first time in so long we made eye contact.

"don't ruin our last chance (y/n), just please think about it." he said and i just pulled from him so he could stop holding me. "i truly do love you."

"no, if you truly did love me then you wouldn't be doing this." i said and went back, leaving him all alone as a figure of my past. 'cause he was nothing but a boy who broke my heart before but now i had someone who completely fixed it for me and knew what love truly was.

#skz drabbles #skz imagines #skz angst #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz drabble #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids angst #seungmin x reader #stray kids scenarios #sourbinnie #skz short imagines

121 notes · View notes

planetsteddie · 1 year

Text

ᥴꫝꪮꪮᦓꫀ ꪑꫀ, ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪑꫀ☆

pairing(s): carl gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just fucking read it

WARNING(S)!!!: angst, short, that's all i'm saying

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

On a cold night on the Southside of Chicago, was Y/n walking toward the very famous Gallagher family. She loved that family to death. They have all been there for her through thick and thin. Especially Fiona and Carl.

Carl…her best friend, lover, boyfriend, love of her life.

Fuck she didn't know what to call him all she knew was that she loved him with her heart and soul.

They have both been best friends from the ripe age of six years old. The two were known as mentally insane when they were younger. As they grew they matured. Well, Y/n matured.

Carl may have matured but it sure as hell wasn't his brain.

(bro no hate on carl but he is immature :) )

The couple did so much crazy shit together. No matter what it was.

Fiona on the other hand…well let's just say she's like a mom and a sister in one. Iykyk.

⳾⑅❀⑅❀⑅❀⑅❀⑅❀⑅*⳾

She had finally reached the door to her second home. Sure she had her first one but she couldn't but feel more at home there.

Walking into the kitchen, patting off the snow from her shoulders, Y/n went straight to the fridge for a beer. She took a sip as she heard the sound, BANG!

So she carefully and quietly put her beer on the counter and walked upstairs, the noise getting louder with each step. The sound of heavy breathing didn't catch her off guard, thinking it was Lip and one of his flings.

She rolled her eyes and walked towards the boy's room. Opening the door quickly she begins to say as she turns her head, " Seriously, Lip if you're gonna fuc-" she paused as she finally looked.

Not seeing Lip, but seeing a bunch of curly hair splayed on the lap of her boyfriend. It was Dominique and…Carl.

It was sad to say that she was expecting it. I mean it always ends up being her no matter what, but that couldn't stop the pain and heartbreak that struck her heart.

Seeing the two scramble and gather their clothes as she stands there with teary eyes. Turning around that bitch quickly runs past her with a smug look. She huffed, rolled her eyes, and shut the door.

As the door shut, all Y/n did was stare Carl down. He looked down at his feet.

"Why?" she said with a weary voice.

He just shrugged. He didn't know. Dominique treats him like shit while Y/n makes him feel loved. She's been there for him through all of the hardships since they were kids.

She shook her head, "No! You're not answering the goddamn question, Carl."

He stood there silent with a look of bewilderment on his face. The tears fell freely down her face, "Why do you always go back to her?" she whispered.

Once again no answer...

For once she wished he would choose her but he never does and probably never will. All she can do is hope.

"I don't know."

The girl can't help but scoff at the pathetic excuse of an answer. "I don't know doesn't answer my question so again why?"

"I'm so sick and tired of you choosing someone else over me. I have been there through everything but to you I'm nothing. Apparently, you could give less of a shit about me or how I fucking feel."

She just wanted him to love her as she does him. He does but it's Carl...he doesn't know how to tell her that.

"I swear to god, Carl. If you don't fucking spill I will walk out that door and I will not come back. If you're not gonna fight for this relationship then I'm not anymore. I am sick and tired of losing to everyone. I just wanted you to choose me and love me..."

She looked at him with wide pleading eyes, waiting for him to say anything to stop her from walking out the door. e

He tried but couldn't quite get the words out.

"but I guess I was wrong."

After that was said she left the Gallagher household and walked out into the cold winter night. Leaving a crying Carl back in his room regretting and wishing he had said something.

Tears trailed down his face. He not only lost someone he loved but he also lost his best friend.

Wet tears trailed down the girl's face in the cold night as she walked home. She couldn't help but feel relieved in a way. She no longer has to feel the burden of not being enough for someone to pick and choose.

The girl couldn't help but cry even after feeling a sense of relief. She lost her best friend, lover, boyfriend, and love of her life.

It all came down to that one day someone would finally choose her, and love her only.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

omg it's soo bad

i just really wanted to get something out...again I'm so sorry for going completely MIA I was sick with a little something that authors get (well most authors...i think)

i like to call her...procrastination

it's been sitting in my drafts for fucking decades

love you guys </3

#angst #shameless us #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #carl gallagher #fiona gallagher #im gonna have a breakdown after writing this #carl gallagher x fem!reader #fem!reader #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fem reader #short as a bitch #been sitting in my drafts #for decades

374 notes · View notes

stabbyfoxandrew · 1 month

Note

You said to send asks about your AUs, so here I am. Angel Neil basically died, sky daddy (or whoever) told him "protect this guy" and was sent on his merry way, no context whatsoever. Honestly, poor guy. Does he know the full extent of his angel powers? Did he have to try them out, or was he just gifted with the knowledge of how to use them? Sometimes I think about Angel Neil and how lonely he must feel, staying on all of those rooftops, and then I get sad. Do all the people who die become guardian angels, or only a sect of them? What happens to the others? Where is Mary? Hell, heaven, is she also a guardian angel, or is she just gone? This is why I don't send asks about your AUs because if I start yapping, I won't stop :')

Yes I did! Thank you for sending this! <3 I'm going to answer under the cut so my insane rambles won't annoy anyone.

So, yeah... Neil died, became an angel, and was told his job was taking care of Andrew. Then poof, he was sent to the Columbia house. (He died in July so they were out of class still.) Neil got his charge mixed up with Aaron a lot at first, because... Twins. But eventually figured them out. (Thankfully. Lol imagine if he'd accidentally appeared to the wrong one.)

He doesn't know about all his angel powers! He's figuring things out as he goes. On his own even in his afterlife. (So Neil of him.) So, yeah. It took him a while to realize he had wings. Longer still to figure out how to work them. He can miracle pain away. And the knife appeared suddenly with no warning. Like... He's got all these amazing things he doesn't know how to control that well. :') Poor baby.

Yeah. :( Most of Neil's spare time is spent just lying on rooftops and watching the sky. Sometimes he sleeps when Andrew does, sometimes he doesn't. He doesn't really have to, after all. Sometimes he'll watch games with Kevin, sometimes he sits on the roof of Andrew's car while they're driving and he almost feels alive.

Not everyone becomes a guardian angel. Just those who don't really fit in anywhere else? Neil didn't subscribe to religion. He didn't fit into Heaven or Hell because of things he'd had to do to survive... So it was either Angel or Ghost? But SOMEONE (I can't tell you who) realized that Andrew needed to be watched over and Neil just so happened to get the job.

Mary was Neil's guardian angel for a while after she died. Then she crossed a line (she killed a human for looking at her son wrong and said human wasn't going to hurt Neil) and was removed from her position for taking an innocent life. Not sure what her fate was, but she is gone now.

Also, if you read to the bottom, hi! <3 Thank you so much for asking these questions. I honestly really appreciate it and I would love to answer any more you have! (If I can do so without spoiling anything that comes later.) Seriously! I love talking about my writing and this sort of thing helps me world build a little if that makes sense?

#seriously. thank you so so so much. i am insane and i will ramble for weeks if given the opportunity. :') <3 #answered #Guardian Angel Neil AU #bribery-of-monkeys #love

20 notes · View notes

starzzach · 9 months

Note

would you write another charlos abo 👉👈

insane. i am. insane. so sorry for the wait. head in my hands.

part 2 here and part 3 here!

Charles really, really wants a baby. Carlos is not so sure.

—

Baby. God, he really wants a baby.

It is all he can think about, really. What Sound Coherent Charles can think about, not Heat Hormone Related Charles. The thoughts are all real and solid and seem like they have absolutely no intention of leaving.

So much so that he walks into Carlos' room unannounced, feeling bold and brave and wanting a baby. "Car-los," he sings, in that very not-his-name way that he can never bring himself to correct, and neither can Carlos, clearly. "Hello, mate."

Carlos is reading a book, but blessedly sets it aside, leaving his lap free and very, very inviting. He looks confused, but pleased, like he had been wanting for Charles to want a baby and subsequently end up in his room. Yes, Carlos' lap is very inviting, and Charles experiences the very normal human pull of it, and does not bother to resist, straddling his lap like he belongs there. "I am not free," Carlos says, but he is smiling. "I have a media thing in ten."

Charles pouts, rubbing his hands up and down Carlos' arms, trying to scent him. "I want a baby."

Carlos taps his forehead, ruffling his hair like he's one of his dogs. "You don't want a baby," he corrects, "that's the heat talking."

Charles shakes his head, vehement. He is sure – he has been sure about it. He most definitely, certainly wants it and his heat is days off, so Carlos cannot even blame the hormones, and even if he did, he would be wrong. "No, I want a baby," he insists. "Please, Carlos. I need a baby."

"Now you are talking crazy," Carlos muses, peppering feather light kisses along his jaw. "You don't even like babies. Last month you were going on and on about how Seb was crazy to go and have another one."

"I'd like our baby," he argues. "And Seb is crazy. Even Mark knows that. But they still have four babies and I want just one, Carlos, just one."

Carlos sighs, pulling away. His hands settle on Charles' waist, a comfortable grip. "You don't want a baby. You'll hate being pregnant. You already hate me waiting on you now, you know how bad I'm going to be if you're carrying my– Charles," he sighs again, and internally Charles smiles, because now he is certain Carlos has seen his watery eyes. "Please. Charles. Don't tell me you are going to cry."

Charles sniffs, perfectly plausible and completely fake. "Maybe."

"You cannot seriously want a baby this much."

"Do you think I would be a bad father? Am I too messed up?" Charles asks instead, wobbly and sounding very close to tears. Shame he is faking, really. He is a really bad actor otherwise, but he knows how to get what he wants, especially when it comes to Carlos. "Is that why you don't want my baby?"

"What, no," Carlos says immediately, distressed. "No, I want your babies. I want to give you all your babies."

Charles slides off of him, flopping onto the other half of the couch. "I can get a baby somewhere else. Everyone wants to give me babies," he mumbles, pretending to seriously consider it. Carlos won't believe this, but at the very least it might make him die inside out of frustration. "It wouldn't be too hard."

"Are you hearing a word I am saying," Carlos says exasperatedly, finally giving in. "Fine. Tomorrow– tonight, even we can make a baby, since you want it so much."

"Don't you?"

"What?"

"Like," Charles starts, gesturing generally to his self. "You have me. Even during my heats. You don't want a baby?"

Carlos blinks, long and slow. "I don't want a baby," he says slowly. "I want our baby."

Charles claps his hands, grinning widely. "Yay," he cheers, sitting up. "I am going to go tell Pierre and pretty much everyone else."

"Thank you for warning me," he deadpans. "I'll sit here and pretend to not notice the crowd of people waiting to ask me why I want to take Ferrari's star driver out of the game, but okay. Enjoy the announcement."

Charles winks at him, or tries to, leaning down and pressing a long, thorough kiss to his lips. "I'll come back to talk soon."

"I don't think we're going to be doing much talking," Carlos says with a shit-eating grin, eyes soft.

Charles smiles to himself, a skip in his step as he exits the garage. It feels nice to know that the other person feels the same way you do, and shares the same views that you have. It feels very nice, indeed.

Baby. God, he really wants to have that baby.

#head in my hands in complete utter SHAME #anyway #zach answers asks #?!#shocking!#charlos abo #in the loosest possible sense #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #writing #sorry gel if this is not what you had in mind

99 notes · View notes

random-ideas-artblog · 4 months

Text

Just finished watching the first detective Conan movie!

So I just finished it, and I was taking notes as I went through. I’m just going to post them below. It’s pretty rough because I typed while watching so these are real time thoughts. Overall I enjoyed it though.

Conan’s adorable when he gets the letter (blushing is cute)

Can’t believe the dork forgot his own birthday but remembered some Holmes trivia instead lol

Ran is a such a sweetheart omg

Mori really read through the dudes whole Wikipedia page lmao

Never mind I mean biography I forgot this was like 1997

Does this dude have OCD is that supposed to be the implication

Garden party is cool but where are the bombs and skyscrapers what I sup

Damn he can cook wow

I feel like the do everything myself is going to be Important

Ok he’s kind of sinister know idk why

Yo why is he so interested in this teenage girls love life???

Conan you are so screwed

Oh ok I see where the bomb and skyscraper are coming into play now

Grudge against the architect maybe

Wow that was a big explosion

Ok this whole situation is very weird why is he helping Conan

What is the cat the fucking bomb???

There better not be any cat death in this movie I will cry

How did the old woman not notice the bomb???

That old woman and driver are having very tame reactions to this insane kid

Oops and he’s passed out. In the hospital too uh oh

Aw that cute Kogoro is by his bedside

Wow Conan without the glasses really looks like a shinichi copy how has no one noticed

You can’t use phones in hospitals what is this common knowledge I never learned

Ok this looks really bad for Shinichi I pity him a bit lol now Kogoro things he’s scum

Ok I have a theory: For whatever reason architect is bombing stuff for an unknown reason. The guy shown has a beard but that’s probably just a disguise, architect said he likes to do things himself so that’s why I think it’s him. He doesn’t what there to be casualties or just wants someone to stop him.That’s why Shinichi was contacted he’s a well known detective. The password thing was a test for Mori to see if he can replace shinichi, but Conan figured it out and got a tour of the gallery. Which, COINCIDENTALLY, has buildings that have been bombed before (the mansion) and will be bombed (presumably the skyscraper based on info so far). It’s a deliberate clue. That’s also why the bomber is accepting Conan as a legitimate detective because he passed the test, but also giving hints because this js a kid he doesn’t want to kill him. It’s also just occurred to me that the architect was implied to have severe OCD or perfectionism. He could be bombing past builds because he thinks there’s some thing wrong with them and can’t stand to have their design be under his name. Something like that idk. I’m only 36 minutes in so we’ll see

Wait a minute maybe the reason architect was interested in the birthday date was because he wanted to know when and where Shinichi would be so he could plan the bombing around his schedule! Ran provided practically all the details too

That’s cute the kids drew a picture (I know it’s a suspect but still)

He’s happy with it??? Damn Conan can’t draw at all

That was a lot of damage to the car wow

Rare Kudo shinichi appearance I missed you!!! Conan’s cute but shinichi as himself looks pretty cool haha

Damn that’s a strong father son bond

Laughing then hating that’s kinda of funny

Genta is going to shout out the word bombs isn’t he

…I knew it

Wait no ones noticed these kids screaming bomb on the train?

I am so confused by the motivation pretty sure this means my theories are wrong damn

Sick burn Ran lol

Wow this whole diverting sequence is seriously dramatic and I love it

Poor Ran she’s getting stood up

The bridge! The architect doesn’t want to blow up that bridge because he’s actually happy with that work! That would fit with my previous theory

Ok shiratori is being kind of suspicious. Kinda confirms my theory tho

Conan dude that suggestion was not subtle at all

Ok now what Mori has said it’s someone else I’m more convinced than ever it’s the architect

Ok there’s a lot of emphasis being placed on him lighting the pipe same as the beginning

Ok did the dad steal his kids designs or did he steal his dad’s?? Probably the latter

Was I actually on to something with the pipe????

Uh new theory he’d bombing all the architecture that doesn’t fit the New Tama symmetrical city to try and get the building approved after the Mayors arrest

Just saw the architect has a painting of a horse above the fireplace I don’t know why that’s amusing to me

Mori you are so wrong it’s funny as hell

That reaction was funny as hell

It’s kind of creepy how the architect is just standing and staring down

Go after him Shiratori hell yeah

So the skyscraper in the tile only shows up in the last 20 minutes

I was actually right with my theory?? Kind of. I got the reason he wanted Kudo to take the case wrong(it was revenge) but the motivation behind the bombing and who was bombing them was correct.

Ok but now that it’s been proven it had nothing to do with the case, why was he so interested in the date it’s a little bit creepy ngl

Oh damn the bombs actually went off that’s a lot of power

Ok wow this dude is an asshole

Wait he wanted to know about the date so he could plant a huge bomb that would kill Ran and Shinichi wtf

Ok Ran is taking this very well wow she’s cool

I wonder what everyone else in the lobby is thinking right now

Wait did they do it wrong. Wait nvm that’s someplace else

Seeing Kogoro so worried about Ran is kind of heartwarming, although the circumstances aren’t great

Oh god it’s the classic red wire blue wire

My bet is on red wire. It’s Ran’s favorite color and the couples lucky color for the month

Bruh wtf is with this edgy commentary from the architect about love you’re such a loser Christ.I’m getting a bit heated haha 😅

Not the happy Birthday this is really sad

We’ll be together when we die??? What the hell this is depressing but kinda sweet

I just realized I started off a bunch of my comments with ok so. It’s not important or anything I just noticed that while reading through. I’d give this movie a 7/10. There were some interesting parts and it was fun theorizing but there are still some things I’m confused about. Why did he accept Conan as a detective? Why did he provide clues to the bombs??? If the motive was revenge wouldn’t it be better to have Shinichi fail? Maybe I missed something idk.

#detective conan case closed #dcmk #movie review #conan edogawa #shinichi kudo #i really want to see shinichi in the red polo shirt now #I feel like that would clash with his eyes tho lol #Time bombed skyscraper #Movie 1

21 notes · View notes