#The truth is: they are both *right* and they are both *wrong*.

[muniimyg]

*ੈ εつ‧₊˚° ♡ ༘ ctrl+alt+delete // jjk ༘ ♡ °˚₊‧ εつ ੈ*

19 // next // series m.list

note: oh wHAT DO YOU KNOW ABT MEET CUTES??? huashjdkfasjf.... ignore my mistakes ,, i am sick ! goodnight pretty pussy kimi friends <3

//

friday night. 

jimin’s voice rings through the chaos of the small, but somehow always too crowded, apartment. it’s filled with people yet jimin’s squeaky yapping is the loudest thing in jungkook’s ear.

“stop freaking out!” jimin cries, dodging around taehyung, who’s already got a hand to his forehead like he’s holding back a migraine. “bro, you look fine.”

“but what if this is the wrong shirt?” jungkook whines, his brows knit together, tugging at the hem of the plain black tee he’s been second-guessing for the last hour and a half.

taehyung groans, dramatic as ever. “what if i hit you right now?”

“what if you go kill yourself—”

before jungkook can finish, the sound of liquid splashing against fabric cuts him off. the liquor spreads fast and drips down his shirt.

jungkook takes a deep breath in.

“oops,” jimin says, not even trying to hide the grin as his tequila splatters all over jungkook’s chest. “now you have to change. you’re welcome.”

“you—!” jungkook starts, eyes narrowing like he’s about to lunge.

“do it,” taehyung interrupts, his grin lazy, sharp, and mean in a way that only jungkook’s closest friends can manage. “before ___ walks in and sees you covered in alcohol. how’s that for a first impression, mr. perfect?”

jungkook shoots both of them a glare, muttering curses under his breath as he storms off toward his room, the familiar bubble of frustration fizzing in his chest.

god. 

tonight, out of all nights; he’s spiraling. really—because how could they not see how serious this all is? 

you’re coming over. 

you. 

st4rg1rlyni3. 

… and since this is your first time meeting… he has to get it right. he has to at least look good. presentable. maybe even… handsome.

once jungkook reaches his room, he pulls open his closet door with more force than necessary. the shirts hang neatly—too neatly—because he reorganized them this morning, just in case you’d... what? wander in here and look inside his closet?

he groans at himself, grabbing the first thing that doesn’t make him want to scream, a striped blue button-up he swore he wouldn’t wear tonight.

as he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, he’s halfway through tugging it down—arms trapped in the fabric, mid-struggle—when his door creaks open.

his heart stalls. freezes, really, like his whole body is buffering.

because it’s you.

you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, looking as though you hadn’t expected to walk in on this exact moment—but you’re also clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh.” your voice comes out light, amused. you glance down at your phone for a second before back up at him, a brow raising. “taehyung said the bathroom was—hmmm. okay. i get it.”

jungkook is acutely aware of every awkward detail: his hair sticking up from all his stressed-out fidgeting, the half-buttoned shirt that’s probably wrinkled by now, the way his mouth is hanging slightly open because he still hasn’t figured out what to say.

“um...” it’s the best he can manage, voice a little cracked.

your smile grows, softening the edges of the moment. 

“nice shirt.”

he stares at you, feels his cheeks flush a little hotter. because of course you’d show up looking this good, all easy confidence and effortless charm, while he’s here feeling like a walking disaster. your hair is curled in such an effortless way that truly scratches his brain. you’re wearing a baby pink dress that tugs your curves perfectly. 

truth be told, he was just talking shit about the colour pink. 

seeing it on you? 

yeah. it’s his favourite colour now too—

that’s when jungkook realizes he’s been silent for a minute too long. you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for a response.

“thanks,” he finally blurts, so fast it sounds like one word. then he clears his throat, scrambling to add, “just—uh, just picked it.”

your gaze lingers on him, a smile tipping into something dangerously close to teasing. 

“what’s… with the awkwardness? am i prettier than you expected?”

his breath hitches, and you swear you catch the faintest blush coloring his cheeks. but jungkook recovers quickly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

“the issue was never if you were pretty. you are pretty. there’s no denying that,” he admits, his voice steady yet soft. “it’s your attitude.”

your brow arches, feigning offense. 

“what attitude? i just got here.”

“that one,” he says, gesturing vaguely as if you radiate something he can’t quite put into words.

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “oh, so we’re acting like we didn’t just celebrate seven days of talking with cake? like you aren’t completely obsessed with me—”

“okay, miss disliker.”

“mr. vlog dedicator.”

“weren’t you mad at me a few days ago for muting when i peed?”

“yeah. i can admit to that. if i made peeing videos, you’d watch them, right? can you admit to that?”

jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve started to notice, and inhales sharply through his nose. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for a moment, his gaze drops to the floor like he’s trying to gather himself.

the air stills.

“sorry,” he finally breathes, his voice low and almost unsure. “seeing you in person… god, i don’t know how to act right now. i’m sorry, baby.”

his words settle over you, warm and sweet, sinking into the spaces you didn’t know were waiting to be filled. your stomach tightens, flipping over itself, and you’re suddenly too aware of the way his voice dips when he calls you baby.

jungkook finishes buttoning up his shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly on the last button, and then he extends his hand toward you. 

“nice to meet you—”

but before he can finish, you reach out, wrapping your arms around his neck instead.

his entire body tenses for a split second, caught off guard before he melts into the embrace. his arms come around you, pulling you close, holding you tight.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. his cologne—something woodsy with just a hint of spice—wraps around you, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

why does this feel so right?

your hands flex against his back, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips. it’s overwhelming—how natural this feels, how easy it is to lean into him like this.

he exhales against your hair, his breath warm and steady now, and you can feel the tension draining from his body. you pull back slightly, your arms still looped around his neck, and meet his gaze. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or hesitation—but it’s quickly swallowed by a softness that tugs at your chest.

his hands slide down to rest on your waist, grounding you in place. “hi.”

you blink, your stomach flipping again as his words settle in. he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, and it’s almost too much to bear.

“hi.”

“i’m really nervous, to be honest. jimin and tae have been eating up my anxiety and i’m… i’ve embrassed myself in front of you already so what the hell?” he says, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “you’ve been in my head. and now… now you’re here, and i don’t know what to do with myself.”

you smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the way your heart is racing. 

“excited much?”

he laughs, the sound warm and a little breathless. “only a little.”

you don’t know who moves first, but somehow, you find yourself leaning in, his forehead pressing gently against yours. his eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, the world outside fades into nothingness.

“you smell nice,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath.

“so do you.”

he chuckles, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “this feels too perfect,” he whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it out loud will break the spell.

your stomach flips again, and you’re suddenly so aware of everything—his hands on your waist, the warmth radiating off his body, the way his lips hover just a breath away from yours.

“then don’t ruin it,” you tease, your smile growing.

he grins, leaning back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, you’re both caught in the weight of everything unsaid.

“not a chance,” he says, his voice steady now. 

you believe him.

the night feels like a dream. 

not the kind you forget the second you wake up, but the kind you spend the rest of the day reliving, hoping to hold onto every detail.

jungkook’s mind if filled with you.

every time he looks at you, touches you, or hears you—he can’t help but feel like his heart is beating outside of his chest. it’s so strange and love has never felt this way—so intense and real… so fast. 

you’re witty in a way that makes his chest ache, sharp without being mean, playful but never overbearing. he can’t remember the last time someone teased him, really teased him, without making him feel small. you make it fun—safe, even.

and god, you’re beautiful. 

not in the way he thought before, through screens and pictures, but in a way that’s... more. the kind of beauty that makes him feel like he should thank someone—maybe you, maybe the universe—for the chance to be here, breathing the same air as you.

he notices the way hobi smirks when he catches jungkook staring at you too long. the way taehyung elbows him whenever you laugh at one of his dumb jokes. the way jimin whispers “she likes you, idiot” every time you brush past him, your shoulder grazing his.

it’s obvious. 

to everyone. 

and apparently, to you too, because you’ve joined in. 

you’re teasing him just as much as his friends, your words sharp and deliberate in a way that keeps him on his toes. it’s almost unbearable, the way you make him feel like a little kid with a crush, heart pounding and cheeks burning every time you look his way.

and then, in the middle of it all, he snaps. 

not in a bad way, but in the way you’d snap a rubber band to bring yourself back to reality. he steps closer, his hand finding your waist, his fingers curling just slightly.

“can i show you something?”

your brows lift, curiosity flickering across your face. you nod. 

“sure.”

jungkook leads you to his room, the chaos of the party fading behind you. his fingers brush yours as he walks ahead, close enough to touch but not quite. it’s deliberate, like he’s trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

once you're in his room, he gestures towards his balcony.

you two step out and it's this set up of a cozy and quiet escape. there are string lights wrapped around the railing, a single blanket draped over the chair, and the view—god, the view is stunning.

the city stretches out like it’s alive, blinking lights and faint noises making it feel infinite.

“i fought for this room,” jungkook brags, leaning against the doorframe. “tae wanted it, but i beat him in an arm wrestling match.”

you laugh softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“it’s worth the fight.”

“it is.”

he doesn’t mean the room, though.

you settle into the blanket he hands you, the conversation flowing into something softer, deeper.

“it's been a few hours already but... it’s still so weird seeing you in person,” he admits, his voice quieter now, like he’s letting himself be vulnerable. “i feel like... i’ve known you my entire life. it feels...”

“different?” you offer, your gaze steady on him.

he nods, his lips curving into a small smile. “in a good way."

“in a good way." you echo.

with that, you two settle in to each others presence. looking out at the view and laughing at each others lame jokes. for two sociable people, you two sure love your space from everyone... perhaps, it's because you're with the one.

as the conversation drifts, eventually, jungkook asks, “so... the anon thing. have you figured out who it is yet?”

you shrug, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“no, not really. hobi told me to take it slow. to focus on myself for now.”

“what does that mean for... you know.” his voice drops, suddenly shy. “your content.”

another shrug.

“i’m not sure. i don’t know if i want to keep going, but... i don’t think i have any other options.”

he frowns, leaning forward. “what do you mean by that?”

you hesitate, your fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “i don’t really know what i am these days, to be honest with you.”

that's the plain truth.

you haven't really admitted it to anyone... honestly? hardly to yourself... but for some reason, it just came out. for a moment you think; maybe this is dangerous. trusting someone so fast and feeling how natural it is to say the hard things...

then, there’s a beat of silence before he speaks.

“that’s okay.” jungkook voice is steady, sure. “not knowing is okay. being you is enough.”

you blink, startled by the simplicity of his words.

they hit harder than you expected, settling somewhere deep. it’s strange, feeling so understood by someone you’ve only just met.

the moment is broken by the buzz of jungkook’s phone. he checks it, lips quirking into a smile.

“jimin says everyone went to the pool.”

he stands, holding out a hand. “come on.”

jungkook leads you to the rooftop pool. 

the rooftop is alive with soft laughter and the sound of water splashing, but all of it fades when you step out hand-in-hand with jungkook.

every set of eyes shifts to where your fingers are intertwined, lingering just a second too long before darting to his face, then back to yours. you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly shy… but you two don’t let go. instead, you hold his hand even tighter. 

instinctively, you move slightly behind him, but jungkook isn’t having it.

he pulls you forward gently, his hand sliding to your waist, keeping you anchored there. 

for fucks sake… the prettiest girl at the party is with him. why would he hide this? why wouldn’t he boast?

“do you guys swim often?” you ask, trying to deflect from the weight of their teasing stares.

jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. “only when i wanna vlog and get your attention.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “right… because you just hate it when people only like you for your body?”

he nods, lips twitching into a grin. “exactly. oh, you so get me—”

“hate to break it to you,” taehyung interrupts, draping an arm around jungkook’s neck, “but posting thirst traps isn’t exactly original content.”

“what does that make me?” you quip, arching a brow.

taehyung shrugs, also playing it cool. “jungkook said he’d beat me up if I ever click your links.”

you snort, covering your mouth to hide your laugh.

“oh, come on,” taehyung continues, pulling at the hem of jungkook’s shirt, threatening to lift it. “jungkooookieee… go for a swim and do the whole romantic wet hair look. she’ll love it.”

“shut up—”

“no, seriously! right, ___?” taehyung calls over his shoulder, his grin mischievous. “you’ll love it, right?”

before you can answer, jimin comes barreling in, teaming up with taehyung to ambush jungkook. they shove him into the pool, their laughter echoing as jungkook resurfaces, glaring at them.

you step to the edge, watching as the three of them wrestle and splash around in the water. hobi appears beside you, crossing his arms with a knowing smile.

“this is gonna get worse before it gets better,” he teases, nudging you lightly.

you kneel by the pool, your gaze following jungkook as he swims to where you’re crouched. his wet hair clings to his forehead, and there’s a boyish charm in the way he grins up at you.

he’s breathtaking like this. 

wet hair curling just enough to look messy, droplets sliding down the sharp line of his jaw, catching faint glimmers of the rooftop lights. his shirt clings to him, fabric plastered to every dip and ridge of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination—not that it matters. you’ve spent enough time watching him online to know every detail by heart, but this is different. 

you swallow hard, a little lightheaded. 

“help me up,” he says, holding his hand out.

“no.”

his grin falters. “what? why not—”

“you’re gonna pull me in.”

“no, i won’t.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know?”

“i know you.”

jungkook tilts his head, his grin returning as he leans his arms on the pool edge. “oh? you think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

you smirk. “don’t i?”

“you don’t,” he challenges, wiggling his fingers. “come on. trust me.”

against your better judgment, you give him your hand. the second his fingers close around yours, you know you’ve made a mistake.

“jungkook, don’t—”

but it’s too late. 

he tugs you in, and the cold water shocks you, stealing the air from your lungs. you bob to the surface, pushing your hair out of your face, only to see him laughing like a kid who just got away with a prank.

you splash him. “you’re the worst!”

“am i?” he teases, swimming closer.

you’re still laughing when he scoops you up under the water, holding you bridal style. he hums, grinning down at you. “saved you.”

“you pulled me in.”

“okay, fine. i pulled you in.”

“you give in easily.” you tease, splashing water to his face. jungkook squints, taking the splash. before you can say anything else, he defends himself with a few words that make your stomach turn again. 

“how am i supposed to argue with a pretty girl like you?”

back in his room, jungkook has a hoodie and a pair of sweats laid out for you. he’s drying off with a towel when you step out of his bathroom, his clothes hanging loose on you.

he pauses mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulder as his eyes take you in. “you look better in my clothes than i do,” he teases, his voice dipping just slightly.

“gross.”

he grins, leaning against the dresser. “i’m serious. i might have to start hiding my hoodies.”

“please. you’d hand them over without a fight.”

“not true.”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer. without a word, you take the towel from his shoulder and start drying his hair. he freezes for a moment, caught off guard, before leaning into your touch.

your fingers work through his damp hair, your eyes inadvertently drifting to his lips. the air between you feels heavier now, thick with something unsaid. jungkook tilts his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to your eyes.

he leans in—so close, you can feel his breath on your skin—and then stops himself, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space.

“i... i’m gonna wait,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

“for?”

jungkook exhales, dragging a hand through his half-dry hair, the strands falling back into a soft, messy tangle that makes your stomach flip. the towel around his neck shifts as he fidgets with it, like it’s the only thing grounding him right now. 

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quiet, like the words aren’t fully formed yet. “i want to show you i’m patient. i want to show you that i’m a good man. i am... so...” his eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long, raw and unguarded. “let’s go? i’ll drive you home and hold your hand the entire way.”

you tilt your head, biting back a smile. 

“you’re really not going to kiss me right now?”

his lips twitch into a soft laugh, dimples pressing into his cheeks as his shoulders relax.

“i just want you to know that you’re perfect for me,” he says, his tone so sincere it makes your breath catch. “i want to be perfect for you... and it’s hard when i’m losing my patience. if i kiss you right now…” he hesitates, his voice dipping lower, “i won’t stop.”

you lean forward, close enough to catch the faintest scent of his cologne mingling with chlorine. 

“okay, i get it. you wanna be a good boy. fine by me…” you whisper, your lips brushing the air between you. “you’re right. maybe you shouldn’t kiss me tonight—as a matter of fact—don’t.”

his brows lift, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin that feels dangerously addictive. 

“really?”

“yeah.” your smile widens as you lean just a little closer, your nose nearly grazing his. “i like making people wait.”

his grin deepens, the heat in his gaze undeniable. 

“yeah?”

“yeah. i like it because it usually leads to begging.”

and then, before he can respond, you close the distance—not to his lips, but to his cheek, pressing the softest kiss there. when you pull back, jungkook's stunned expression is almost too satisfying. 

almost.

[amaditalks]

Many Jews have been calling out the ADL, its leader Jonathan Greenblatt, and it's board for a very long time.

We have been calling them out on their unnecessarily and inappropriately friendly public communications with christofascists, (and wondering about their private ones).

We have been calling them out on playing both sides against the middle in constant appeasement bids.

We have been calling them out for a history of ignoring or endangering BIPOC Jews and unpacked anti-Blackness.

Despite this, institutional Judaism, the groups who can move the needle with one another, has responded to those callouts with a giant shrug. The intracommunity conversation has been repeatedly and continually stifled, quashed, or just ignored. 

And here's the fact of the matter: Representative Ocasio-Cortez is 100% correct.

The ADL is corrupt, it does not have the best interests of Jews in mind, and in inoculating Elon Musk and giving that grandson of Nazi Party members (who moved to apartheid South Africa from Canada because Canada was not racist enough for them) the imprimatur of approval from a nominally Jewish organization -- which he laughed at -- after his well documented, openly public history of interacting and agreeing with, giving approval to, giving amplification to, and finding affinity with openly antisemitic and Nazi-adjacent ideals, individuals and organizations and openly giving what everyone who has eyes to see was a Nazi salute -- not just once but twice -- standing behind the seal of the Presidency of the United States of America, the ADL has capitulated to the most powerful individual opponent and danger to the Jews for absolutely no good damn reason. There is no walking back from that.

The organization is no longer of any value. It is a danger to every Jew. And because they were willing to lie, openly and pointlessly, on behalf of the scum of the antisemitic earth, they absolutely are no longer reputable. They cannot be listened to. They cannot be relied upon. Their words have ceased to have the slightest merit.

Representative Ocasio-Cortez was right, and she was right to say it.

Because saying the truth, saying it plainly and saying it forcefully is never wrong, no matter who you are.

The ADL walked away from that. None of us need to follow. Until they make this right, with a thorough house cleaning and public teshuvah, they are nothing. And must be treated as such.

AOC’s response to the alarming rise in antisemitism + Elon Musk doing a my heart goes out to you into facist salute thing

Is too…

Take the opportunity to discredit the country’s oldest organization devoted to combatting antisemitism.

Regardless of if you think the ADL made the right call here or not- the ADL is operating in crisis mode. They (like all of us Jews) are in way over their heads, and it is sooooo not AOC’s place to criticize how they chose to respond.

As a gentile- you do not get a say in how Jews and Jewish organizations respond to antisemitism.

Sit the fuck down.

[unknownati]

xiii. tap tap tap

a/n: im. Cooking. I swear

idk whether to finish my reqs first or my wips 😭 but lowkey i've been busy asf sorry 😞 i am slooowly chipping away at them

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features, gn!reader, sub!ekko, crop top, living my truth, orgasm denial, handjob, short bleghhh, unproofread THIS ENDING 😒

_______________________________________________

a small groan rumbles in ekko's chest as he leans over his workbench, papers scattered across the wood surface in a chaotic organization.

"ugh," ekko's head shook, nose scrunching in frustration. nothing was adding up—none of the math circled back to the main problem.

his z-drive got messed up in a fight, and the whole thing was completely off now. not being able to figure this stupid thing out had his forehead heating up, his fingers flicking his pencil between his fingers, a constant rapping against the table reminiscent to a clock ticking.

a whole room over, the sound made your ears twitch at the familiarity, your mind's attention shifting from the book you were reading to that consistent noise.

you've asked ekko many times to try to not make that noise—it's a distraction, gritting to your ears. each word you read gets replaced with a 'tap tap.'

you know the context behind that noise too—so why not help him fix it?

you peek into ekko's room, the tapping filling your ears more clearly. your presence is thick, even with your lack of noise, ekko realizes you're there. he gives you a small grunt of acknowledgment, no time to think about anything more.

your chin rests on his shoulder, palms running up and down his forearms. your eyes pass over the work he has, not a clue in the world what any of this means. what your eyes dart to instead was that pencil. still tapping. you hum. "what's wrong, baby?"

his nose scrunches and he sighs, shaking his head. "i just can't figure this out."

you let the sentence linger in the air, squeezing his shoulders, fingers slipping to kneed his biceps. "hmm...well, what are you tryna do?"

his lips form a line and then he opens his mouth, explaining the entire plan out to you with reasoning, showing you pictures, showing you evidence, everything. you weren't listening to a word.

"but the thing is, i tried both, and doing the first one leads me down a complete different road. and i'm wondering if it's because—"

"mhm," you hum as he continues speaking, your eyes trailing up his gesticulating arms, then down. his shirt was cropped, his midriff peeking out from the angle you were at. casually, both of your hands begin snaking down. they both stop at his waist. he doesn't notice—it's a regular occurrence. you're always touching the visible skin when he's wearing a crop top.

you couldn't lie, the sight was tantalizing. every time he reached up for something, the shirt would raise and give you a larger view of his abs. something about the crop top was so much better than seeing him shirtless.

it wasn't until your hand started creeping up his shirt that he fumbled over his words. "what are you doing?"

"nothing, sorry. keep talking."

he cleared his throat, stuttering for a moment but then getting back on track to his sentences. he asks something, some question related to the papers in front of him.

"hmm, well i dunno baby. talk me through it, what do you think?" you throw the ball right back into his court. good thing ekko likes talking, because he immediately had an answer for you, his mouth running once again.

you give half-hearted noises of acknowledgment between pauses in speech, meanwhile, the hand that wasn't up his shirt was slooowly making it's way down his pants. once you breached the band of his boxers, he stuttered again.

"what are you doing?" he re-asks, more emphasis on his words. you shake your head.

"focus on what you have to figure out, not on me."

he doesn't respond, zoning out as your fist closes around his dick. it's slowly growing in your hand, twitching at your touch. the hand up his shirt taps. "focus." you repeat.

"um," he groans, picking up the next sheet of paper. "i just think that—"

his sentence was cut short by a gasp, since you gave him no time to prepare himself, immediately starting to stroke him. he thinks he knows what game you're playing.

"think that...maybe i should try thinking about it the other...way around...i–f-fuck..." his sentence trails off, shaky breaths filling the air and ghosting around him. the tapping grows weak until it finally stops, wood clattering and rolling against the desk.

"you...?" you pick the sentence off where it ended, your wrist flicking rapidly. his knees feel weak— he leans his weight onto his palms, which rest against the edge of the table.

"god, i–i don't know. i can't focus with you doing that..."

you allow him a few more moments of bliss, and you can tell he's close. you're leading him right into your trap, moving faster,

"ah,"

faster,

"baby, please, i'm-"

faster,

"oh fuck,"

...then it's all gone. the tight coil in his tummy simply...crumbled rather than unraveling. he almost collapses, arms wobbling to hold himself up on the desk.

"that's how i feel when you tap that pencil."

before he can even process his confusion, you're out the room, door shutting behind you.

maybe an unconventional approach—but you never heard that tapping again.

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Sevika/Abby/Ellie: Love letters ✞⛧

Warnings: fluff

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒

Hey Brat,

I don’t know what you want me to say in this. You should know by now that I’m not one for long speeches or anything sappy. But since you’re still here, I guess I’ll give you something to chew on.

You’re mine. That’s the only thing you need to remember. No one else matters. No one else will even get close to you while I’m around. I don’t care if you think it’s possessive or crazy, but you’re not going anywhere. And don’t even try to argue with me about it. You wouldn’t win.

It’s cute how you think you need to take care of me sometimes. You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, but I’ll admit—your little touches, your care, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But don’t go thinking I need you. You’re not my damn therapist, and I’m not your project. But I’ll let you fuss over me anyway, since you seem to enjoy it. I’d kill anyone who made you feel less than adored, so don’t get any bright ideas about being too independent.

You’ve got a good thing going, so don’t fuck it up. I might not say it outright, but I’d burn this whole damn city down before I let anything happen to you. So yeah, maybe I’m a little soft on you. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re not gonna change me, and you’ll never hear me say anything cheesy, like those damn love words. That’s not me.

But in the quiet moments, when you’re all tangled up with me, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Just you. Keep that in mind next time you get all worried.

So, there. That’s your “love letter,” for whatever the hell that means to you. Take it or leave it.

-Sevika

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪

Hey,

I’m not great with words. Never have been. So, you’ll have to bear with me.

I’m not some romantic, and I don’t do the whole love-letter thing. But I guess I owe you this, if only because you’re the one thing in this messed-up world that’s made sense. You’re the constant, the one person who’s been there even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t know if you get that, or if you’ll ever really understand how much that means to me.

I’m not good at talking about feelings—hell, I’m not even sure what they are half the time. But I know this: I trust you. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. And yeah, maybe that’s not saying much, but I’m not exactly the type to let people close. You’ve earned your place, and I’m not just letting anyone in. So, don’t take that lightly.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right, but I’m trying. I’m fighting for something, for us, and I don’t know where that’ll take me, but I know I’ll keep pushing forward as long as you’re by my side. You’re the reason I keep going when it’s easier to quit. You make it worth it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either. We’re both broken in our own ways, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll fight for you. You mean more to me than I can say.

So, yeah. Maybe not the flowery words you expected. But that’s the truth, and it’s the best I can do.

<3 Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

Hey you,

I don’t even know where to start, but I guess that’s pretty typical for me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to say, how to say it, and if I even have the guts to send something like this. But here it is, I guess.

I’m not great with words—never really was. I tend to get stuck in my head, and even when I have something I want to say, it comes out… wrong. But I hope you understand that I mean every word, even if it’s clumsy or awkward.

There’s something about you that makes everything feel… right. Even on the days when I’m a mess, when I forget to text back or I zone out for a bit because my head’s too loud—whenever I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

You make me want to be better, even if I don’t always show it in the best ways. I know I can be a little weird and I overthink things like a lot, but the truth is, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess things up with you. You mean more to me than I’m probably letting on, and sometimes that freaks me out.

I catch myself looking at you sometimes, like I can’t help it, and I know I probably look like an idiot when I get all flustered, but it’s because you’re… I don’t know. You’re just everything to me. It’s hard to explain, but I think you already know.

When I’m with you, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t have to be perfect or say the right things or try to impress anyone. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than just… me. And that’s probably the best gift anyone could give me.

So, yeah. I guess I just wanted to tell you that. You mean the world to me, more than you know. And I’m sorry for all the weirdness, the moments when I get quiet or lost in my thoughts. It’s just… I think about you a lot.

I’ll stop before I get all awkward and ruin this, but I hope you understand.

I love you. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.

Love,

Ellie

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[doodler16]

The fact that so many of the Hellvuaverse characters are carried on head cannons and fanfiction is so pathetically insane to think about.

It got to a point where a friend of mine who was a Critic Watcher of helluva boss jokingly tricked me that Sallie May and Millie both had a FART fetish from that one scene in blazing saddles, which I an ironically believed it for the longest (2mins) time until they told me the truth because

1: Millie and Sallie were weakly written characters to begin with.

2: I had stopped watching hell of a boss around ex's and o's. Only seeing clips from other episodes and not seeing the shorts.

3: Blitz mentions "doing a Shrek" when going over to save Moxxie from Crimson so hell very much has access to the human worlds movies and media.

Well this came off as a silly end joke between the two of us it really just shows how paper thin these characters are in Canon.

Yeah, some fans and many stans unironically are reliant on head canons when it comes to a Hazbin or Helluva character.

Head canons aren’t a bad thing but many abuse it or use it as a way to explain why a character did a specific action. Or they use their head canons to explain why the character in question is the way they are currently.

For example: Adam. There is a popular head canon that Adam is the way he is (ie: not knowing right vs wrong) because he didn’t eat the forbidden apple of knowledge. On its own it is really believable and I wouldn’t be surprised if Vivziepop, herself used that as explanation.

Your friend jokingly saying Sally and Millie had a fart fetish and you believing it for a minute is funny yet accurate.

[generallemarc]

In a bubble, this isn't necessarily wrong. However, as applied to this instance, it represents both a massive slippery slope and a fundamental misunderstanding of the Constitution. Constitutional rights apply to everyone on American soil, regardless of citizenship. You get a fair trial regardless of if you're not a citizen, you get protections from unreasonable search and seizure and cruel and unusual punishment regardless of if you're not a citizen, and you possess all First Amendment rights regardless of it you're not a citizen. Literally the only rights citizens have which non-citizens do not are the rights to vote, run for office and serve on juries. For Trump to actually do this would be to violate the First Amendment rights of these students, because this is not a country where the government has the power to decide the truth or to criminalize disrespect, and so free speech applies even to hateful, bigoted and objectively wrong views.

Gonna be a few absences from the colleges and universities come next week.

[pointocean]

bunny!reader and rafe.

summary

rafe doesn’t like how you’re acting at his party, and he finds only one way to show you how to act right.

warnings

mdni!! smut, spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, brat!bunny, dom!rafe, daddy!kink, slapping, hair pulling, ‘bunny’ as a nickname, dacryphillia, begging

“what’s goin’ on over here?” you feel rafe’s arm snake around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he stands next to you.

“country club! me an’ your girl were just talkin’ about you,” barry laughs loudly, bringing his hand up to rest on rafe’s shoulder. “what’s up with you, man? saw you talkin’ to some girls over there.” rafe knew what barry was doing. barry knew he was upset, and he was fucking with both of you to get you both upset.

you stay silent under rafe’s strong grip as you look up at him, then to barry, and back to him. now, both of you were upset, filled to the brim with jealousy. rafe shakes his head, giving barry a smug smirk before moving down to your height to whisper in your ear. “get the fuck upstairs. now.” you look up at rafe innocently before pushing his arm off your waist and walking upstairs. rafe scoffs and watches you walk away, pissed that you were acting like he was the one who was fucking around all night and flirting with guys double his age.

he had already had his plan set in his mind long before he met you in his room, and as soon as he opened the door, you knew you were in trouble. he closes the door gently, locking it and walking to stand over you. you sit on the bed, looking up at him as you bite the inside of your cheek, eyes wandering over his mean expression. you knew what you did wrong, and you knew what he was going to do about it. you felt his eyes on you the entire night as you danced in your short jean skirt. you wanted this. you wanted to rile him up, get him a little upset. you could see in his face that you got him a little too angry at you. rafe was a jealous person, and he doesn’t like to share anything, and you know that, so you knew your plan would work out.

“bunny, do you have any idea how fucking mad i am at you right now?” rafe’s voice is low and quiet, like a storm brewing, ready to absolutely ruin you. you nod, but you really weren’t sure. “do you really? you know what i’m about to do to you?” you decide to be truthful, knowing you’d just be in more trouble later. you shake your head ‘no’, and he chuckled lowly.

he sits down next to you calmly, but you knew he was anything but calm. without any warning, he grabs you by the waist, muscles tensing as he throws you over his lap, your ass in the air. he pushes up your skirt frantically, muttering under his breath. “such a fuckin’ slut, no panties huh? you knew what you were doin’, didnt you?” your arms lay on the bed, your head buried in them as you nod. he smacks your ass, pulling a whine out of you. he looks down at the red print from his hand already forms on your skin, smirking. “use your fuckin’ words.”

“fuck! yes, daddy!” you whimper, voice muffled in the sheet of rafe’s bed. your skin burned, but you liked the pain, only because it came from him. you told rafe before that he could do anything he wanted to you, and he took that promise and stuffed it deep in his brain.

he chuckles again, “so fuckin’ pathetic.” he repeats the action, over and over until tears are streaming down your face and into his sheets. usually, he hated seeing you cry, but tonight, it was the only thing that got him excited. “what do you say?”

“thank you, daddy.” you wait for his next move, knowing that wasn’t all he had planned. he picks you up before pushing you down to lay flat on your back, hastily unbuckling his belt. he takes it and wraps it around your wrists, making sure it’s tight before pulling you by your ankles to the edge of his bed. rafe kicks off his pants, watching them land on the floor, shoving his boxers down next and throwing them right next to his pants. after he pulls off every piece of clothing on his body, he stands above you, his arms crossed as his eyes wander over you.

you whine and wait eagerly under him, your patience wearing thin as he stands completely still. “please, daddy, please touch me.” you whimper and whine and moan, but rafe does nothing to stop it as you struggle underneath him, your arms above you.

“stop fuckin’ whining. you’re gonna wait until i’m ready.” rafe knows what he’s doing to you, and he doesn’t give a shit how needy you are. when he finally decides that he is ready, he pulls your legs up to his shoulders, your bottom half in the air. he slides into you easily, your arousal from being spanked only grows when he slaps you across the face, your head turning to the side but looking back up at him. “you gonna apologize now, bunny?” he growls above you, his movements completely stilling as he waits for your answer. your squirming under him when you shake your head, and thats his final straw. he lands another slap to your cheek, “strike fuckin’ three. get on your hands and knees.”

you quickly oblige, your back arching as rafe sinks himself deep inside of you, hitting every spot. you moan noisily, his pace as he thrusts into you unforgiving. “say you’re sorry. fuckin’ brat.” he grips onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

“fuck- i’m sorry, daddy.” your moans come out in “oh’s”, your entire body shaking as you clench around him.

“uh-uh, you don’t get to cum until you stop whining like a good girl. be fuckin’ quiet, take what im givin’ you, ‘nd maybe i’ll let you.” you knew he had more in him to punish you, and you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. he grips your hair with one hand using it as leverage to fuck into you. you stay as quiet as possible, the only sound in the room being skin slapping and grunts from rafe. “wasn’t so fuckin’ hard, huh? you can cum now, bunny.” he hits your weak spot so many times that you think you’re about to collapse when you reach your tipping point, but he holds you up by his hands on your waist.

he pulls out of you, rubbing your back as you lay down on your stomach. “learned your lesson?” rafe chuckles as you flip over, nodding at him innocently.

“we’re not going back down there, are we?” you furor your eyebrows, lifting up your hips and slipping your skirt off, burying yourself under rafe’s soft blanket.

“not if you don’t want to.” rafe stands up, slipping into his boxers before walking back to the bed, sitting next to you as you turn to rest your head in his lap. you shake your head, “mm-mm.”

[astraule]

"What I Want"

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader Song: You’re All I Want - Cigarettes After Sex “We fucked so hard it left me faded for all you are.” Tags: 18+, first time having sex, teasing, fingering, PIV, guiding you through it. Y/N: She/Her virgin reader. Word Count: 1.7 K Summary: Dean called out for you as you hid. You had agreed to a game of hide-and-seek to keep him busy, but he quickly found you and reassured you in his bedroom, telling you that everything would be taken slowly. Next morning, resting in his arms, Dean felt immense happiness seeing you as everything he wanted. When gently waking you up, you looked up at him with puffy eyes.

3RD POV: (Bunker Kitchen)

"Y/N~" Dean's voice called out as you squatted in the pantry of the kitchen. While Sam was out looking for a solution to bring Dean back to normal, it was your job to stay in the bunker to distract him, to keep him from getting out.

He suggested playing hide-and-seek; if you won, he would listen to every word you said. But if he won, you'd be at his beck and call. "Come out, come out, wherever you are~" His voice echoed in your mind, quickening your heartbeat.

The corridors had been silent for a full ten minutes; apprehension began to set in, had he left the bunker? You didn't have much time to spend in your hiding place, where you had firmly decided to go and find him. "Gotcha," Dean said, the silence now broken, right next to you.

“Dean." your voice caught as you swallowed hard. "Do you remember our little deal?" he asked, the corners of his lips twisting in a smile. "Dean, I'm begging you." You looked at the hand circling your wrist-soft and yet unyielding.

(Dean’s Bedroom)

"There's nothing to be afraid of,” Dean murmured, his form looming above you, "I assure you, I'll go slow." You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his little game earlier, but now the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in.

As his thumb delicately drew circles on your stomach beneath your shirt, your mind was racing with ways to divert him from whatever it was he had planned. "Dean, seriously. We both know this isn't right. Sam could walk in at any moment," you protested. "What does it matter? Sam will understand," he replied with a teasing grin.

Dean smirked, his hands roaming over your torso beneath your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. "Come on, I know this is what you've been craving since the first time you met me, the real me. You think you're good at hiding it? The truth is, you want me." And he wasn't wrong; that desire was there since the moment you first saw him. Yet, deep inside, you wanted to share this moment when Dean was truly himself again.

For Dean as a demon, you were just another body to warm his bed, but you had to hold onto that hope that somehow, somewhere the real Dean really did have feelings for you. "Come on, baby, don't hold back." His voice cut through your internal musing as he tugged your shirt over your head. The cool air of the room cascading down your spine.

You took a deep breath, realizing you had made your choice. If this was what Dean wanted and it was what you wanted, why hold back? As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you whispered, "Just be gentle with me." His smirk returned, playful and knowing. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Believe it or not, you mean a lot to me, the real me.”

Dean, as a demon, had this attitude that felt like the real Dean, but it wasn't really. For one thing, he didn't have an ounce of morality on him. It sounded weird when he said he cared about you. The real Dean always kept things close to his chest, and Dean as a demon did that too.

"Can you imagine how long the real me has fantasized about you? You drive the real me crazy, do you know that?" Dean broke the silence; his fingers dug into your torso and left white imprints that seemed to disappear right afterward.

"Why not treat ourselves a little?" He grinned, lifting your leg onto his shoulder and trailing soft kisses down from your knee to your ankle, leaving you breathless. "I could never resist you, Dean; irrelevant who you're playing at the moment," you replied, your hand over your chest.

As he carefully slid your leg off of his shoulder, peeling off his shirt at a very sweet pace, you couldn't help but catch your breath when he revealed his perfectly sculpted four-pack. Although Dean wasn't nearly as obsessive about working out as Sam was, it would be a gross mistake for anyone to say he wasn't in top physical form.

He refocused on you, his hands sliding down your slender figure and finding their way to the softer curve of your stomach, where your uterus lay. "So soft, I love it," Dean muttered, leaning down to nip at that exact spot his hands had touched a moment before. The bite marked and slightly puckered.

“Dean, please," you whispered, your fingers gliding to his face, gently guiding him to meet your gaze. "Show me just how much you want me." A playful smirk danced across his lips as he made his way down, peeling your shorts away from your body along with your panties.

Dean smiled softly, his voice soothing as he said, "There's no rush, sweetheart. We can savor every moment." His fingers explored your warmth, which elicited a surprised gasp that you quickly stifled. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassured you, gently taking your wrists and guiding your hands above your head. "Dean…" you murmured, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. This wasn't how you had pictured your first time feeling like.

"Everything will be alright, love. You'll get used to it soon enough." He consoled, placing a gentle peck on your forehead that made your heart flutter with a tiny bit of comfort before his fingers started delving inside you once again, prompting you to close your eyes instinctively.

Dean leaned in closer, and against your ear, his warm breath whispered, "I gotcha, sweetheart. Just trust me and let go." His fingers continued to move deep inside you, a teasing prelude that sent a shiver down your spine, heightening your nerves for what was about to happen.

His fingers tormented you for what felt like hours, as you held on to the pillow, your wrists clasped tightly by him. He finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his lips, making sure to lick them off while staring intently at you.

Suddenly, you were filled with his hot, pulsating length, not even realizing when he had undone his jeans. As he released your wrists and placed his hands beside your head, your back involuntarily arched off the bed. Your arms clasped his neck again, holding him as if he was your anchor in the storm.

He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close to him while his other hand clutched the pillow beside your head. "I gotcha, sweetheart," he assured you. "Dean…," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face from the burning pain.

As he started moving inside you with the most delicate touch, more tears streamed down your face. "Shhh, you're doing great, love," he said in a whisper, pressing soft kisses against your cheeks where the tears fell, even as your cries grew loud. "It hurts," you whispered, your nails digging deep into his back leaving deep marks, which made him gasp in pain amidst his heavy breaths.

He whispered to you, "Trust me, you'll be feeling great in no time. Just let your body relax." As he loosened his hold on your back, he leaned in, pressing you against the mattress. Before you knew it, your tears turned to whimpering, then to moans that came deep from within, as your breathing grew quicker by the second. A smug smile spread across Dean's face as his thrusts quickened, slight groans escaping his lips.

You gasped, "Dean," your eyes fluttering as a wave of pleasure washed over you. "There’s the reaction I love," Dean replied, his lips teasing at your neck. His thrusts came faster, full of a desperate intensity, making the bed creak and sway beneath you.

You were so sure the bed was going to break under the noises it was making and from Dean's pace. You could only hold on to him, soft moans escaping your lips while silently hoping he’d protect you if the bed did come undone. "I've got you, don't worry," he reassured you as if his brain picked up your thought waves. He then captured your lips with his, your tongues dancing together while you both let out a symphony of moans and groans.

Your eyes suddenly widened, and your head leaned back, your lips breaking away from the kiss as an intense sensation began to rise up inside of you. Dean caught on in a second; a smirk began to spread across his face as he teased, "Go ahead, darling, let it all out. Show me just how good I make you feel." Before you could utter anything in return, you found yourself enveloping him with your warmth.

"Dean…," you panted, hoping he'd pick up on the cue as he slowed down, but then you saw that sneer creeping back onto his face as he sped up again. "No… it’s too much," you whined, your eyes fluttering shut as more pleasure washed over you. "I'm not there yet," Dean whispered softly in your ear.

Dean POV: (Next Morning)

As Y/N rested in my arms, her arm slung across my chest, and her leg thrown over my waist, I couldn't help but smile. She was everything that the real me had always longed for, and I was desperate to fill this want. If there was even the slightest chance that the real me could emerge from the depths of my soul, then I wanted him to have her by his side.

As I stroked her bare back, soothing her, she stirred a little in her sleep. "Hm. so warm," she murmured, still lost in her dream. I couldn't help but wonder, ‘Have humans always been this adorable?’ as she snuggled up to me closer. "Y/N, it's time to wake up," I whispered softly, running my fingers through her hair which made her flutter her eyes open.

"Dean…" she whispered, looking up at me with eyes a little red from the night before, and it stabbed me in the heart like an arrow. "I really am so sorry I hurt you, love; you just felt so good." I said, kissing the crown of her head softly, and she sighed happily.

She whispered, "I don't have the feeling in my legs," as her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and that made me chuckle soft and low. "No need to worry," I replied, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry, the blanket still wrapped around her. "How about I run you a nice bath, okay?"

I was literally kicking my feet and giggling while I put this together! In a previous post, I mentioned that TikTok was down in the U.S., which meant I'd be writing more frequently than just once a month. Well, guess what? It's back up and running! But don't fret, I don't think I'll be spending as much time on TikTok as I used to, so I will try my hardest to keep the writing flowing.

[fadelstylist]

Can't even talk about how sad and offended I am for how the characters handled the situation with Kant. I understand that Style wants to save his friend and that Kant wants to save himself (even if I don't believe a single word he says) but I'm so mad at Bison.

Why does he keep thinking it's all about him? Kant offended both. Not only Bison. He can't choose what Fadel is allowed to feel after all the problems he caused.

1. Kant almost sent him and Bison to jail. Yes, this betrayal affects Fadel too because it's more than a love story.

2. Kant put Style in danger, facing extreme situations (like getting shot) as consequences of Kant's lies. And yes, I know Style ended up accepting but he literally didn't have other options because Kant said "he can kill you if you leave now" and then "you are all I have".

3. Kant's plan triggered Fadel's past trauma and fears of:

a. Letting people in.

b. Betrayal.

c. Losing someone he loves.

Even if he could heal from a and b, he still needs to suffer from the c. Because, he knew since the beginning of the show, why he shouldn't dream of love. Because his lifestyle doesn't let him, because if you love someone you don't put them in danger. He can still lose Style and the cycle will start over and over again. It's crazy how little this show cares about mental health. Bison's is non-existent.

And after all of that, Bison decides that he will still put himself first, and make this whole scene (which is a clear emotional reaction after all the trauma) about himself as if this was always about not letting him get a boyfriend. It was never about that. The audacity of pointing a gun to Fadel and say "It's my life" as if it wasn't Fadel's too. Did Bison ever care about Fadel? Because Style is the only person who respects his feelings. Did he ever think about him when he did all of this? He literally ran away out of anger to "kill" Kant and didn't even tell him where. He not only didn't kill Kant but also teamed up with him.

And then he only says "I'm sorry, I was angry".

It's crazy.

Then you can tell me Bison isn't selfish and self-centered. How can't he never think about Fadel after doing anything? And when he could, he just pointed a gun at him because he chose himself. And let me tell you: Bison never had enough reasons to believe Kant was truthful. Fadel has reasons to believe because he knows that, somewhere in the middle, Style didn't even know about all of this (not to mention that their development was more realistic and coherent). Why still choosing Kant over Fadel? And I know it's not like he would've killed him but that action was a whole statement.

And even after all of the things Fadel had to face for Bison, he still chooses Bison. Fadel celebrated Bison's birthday (while being angry and hurt) and decided to forgive Kant. What Bison ever did for Fadel? He's just ungrateful for his protection.

It felt so wrong to see how Bison never take any of Fadel's feelings seriously. Like he doesn't matter because he's just a sad and bored brother. He probably doesn't know about any of the things Fadel went through because Fadel only told some stuff to someone who proved to care about him. And that's Style. And that's why I think Style was right when he said he's the only one who really wants the best for him.

Fadel was mocked off again during the "almost shooting" Kant scene. Whatever hurt Fadel felt, it doesn't matter because we only care about Bison's. Fadel gets to put the gun down and make some joke????? about the seafood????? And then you want to tell me the show takes Fadel's feelings serious? I literally can't rewatch that scene because I can't stand it. It feels so wrong. So much hurt untold and unhealed for the sake of the "plot".

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[boygirlctommy]

out of all of the (many, many, many) miscommunications on dsmp, this one still makes me lose it the most. these two were never on the same page even once and this was the culmination of all of it. 2 entirely different conversations going on

[fairyroses]

He was about to kill you, Lex. Or divulge something you didn't want me to know.

— SMALLVILLE, "Forever" (4.21)

+ bonus from "Arctic" (7.20):

[megashadowdragon]

youtube comments in the above vid

An actual accurate portrayal of history. No romanticizing of either side. Just the truth that human groups behave the same.

He's got a point. The Crow tribe hated Sitting Bull and his tribe - Lakota Sioux - for continuously raiding them and aggression towards them. They were actually devastated by the news of the fate of 7th Cavalry. When the Lakota Sioux gave up, the Crow were relieved that they could sleep soundly at night.

This is a much-needed video. The Lakota Sioux were in fact much like the Zulu and the Spartans, a people who decided to excel in war and succeeded for a time, until they met a people who exceeded their hours powers. Imperialists fell to other imperialists. The Spartans to the Macedonians, the Lakota to the Americans,, and the Zulu to the British. Those who do best, if they conquer, make brothers of their foes and stand together in peace, and together learn the way of equal Justice between men.

I'm truly amazed and proud of most of the comments here. As a child my grandfather, who was Navajo, would tell me stories of our ancestors and the wars they had fought. He never tried to tell me that the white man was wrong or anything of the sort. He simply told us the truth of human nature. We're all flawed and all cultures, Navajo included have less than reputable history. We all come from cultures that have dark marks in our history. One is not worse or better than the other.

This is one of my favorite scenes ever put to film. Colonel Miles cuts through all the bull crap both sides tell each other and themselves and describes the situation as it is, not as we'd like it to be. The line "for no less noble a cause" says it all. He knows he's not on some righteous crusade and has enough respect for his opponent not to pretend otherwise.

Nelson miles was a formidable man. He fought in nearly every major engagement with the Army of the Potomac during the civil war, from the peninsula to appomattox and rose to the rank of a major general before reverting back to his nominal rank post-war. The horrors he no doubt witnessed hardened this life long warrior. He eventually became general in chief of the entire us armed forces later in his life. This meeting between two great warriors must have been something indeed.Read more

See people cheering for Nelson Miles and he is not wrong in his assertions but for me the best part is that he is not claiming any moral high ground and is treating Sitting Bull as an equal.

"the proposition that you were a peaceable people before the appearance of the white man is the most fanciful legend of all" bro nailed it

I saw a PBS documentary on the Sioux nation. They asked an elder why they stole horses from the Whites. He said if they were not smart enough to protect them they didn't deserve them. I thought right then the same went for "their Land"

An uncomfortable historical truth: every single bit of land that belongs to anyone anywhere, once belonged to someone else.

I'm an Apache, and no other tribe caused as much terror among white settlers as mine did. My ancestors raided Spanish, Mexican and American settlers, and were known to sadistically torture prisoners including women and children. They also preyed on neighboring tribes till we were in turn defeated by the Comanche, and wound up having to make peace with the Spaniards or risk being wiped out completely. In short my people were far from peaceable, and I dislike it when white people with no knowledge of my people's history portray us as helpless victims. My people were akin to Vikings, tough and merciless raiders who lived by the proverbial sword, and died by it, too.

“Where did you get this land? From my father. Where did he get it? From his father. Where did he get it? He fought for it. I’ll fight you for it.” -Scandinavian proverb. Not an endorsement of any particular ideology, just an observation about human nature.Show less

This scene depicts an actual historical event, Colonel Nelson Miles met Sitting Bull before the Battle of Cedar Creek in October 1876.

Battle of Cedar Creek - en . wikipedia . org/wiki/Battle_of_Cedar_Creek_(1876)

Nelson Miles - en . wikipedia . org/wiki/Nelson_A._Miles

Sitting Bull - en . wikipedia . org/wiki/Sitting_Bull

Movie: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee en . wikipedia . org/wiki/Bury_My_Heart_at_Wounded_Knee_(film)

Buddy, the Aztecs raided other natives specifically to capture and sacrifice people to their gods. That’s why those natives teamed up with the Spanish in the first place.

Natives teamed up with white people lots of times.

Also, most Native Americans were killed by random disease, not active killing of any sort.

There’s a long history of white conflicts leaving people alive. All the time. No matter who they were fighting against.

This chief - assuming he actually exists and said this - sounds like a sore loser.

Treating Native Americans as hapless little oppressed victims is actually just an updated Noble Savage narrative. 

And that’s pretty racist.

[slamrink]

Nothing to see here just steph stealing glances of klay like he’s afraid he’s going to get caught 😃😃 (via namxsj on twitter )

[sinnbaddie]

One thing that really irks me about Kakashi and Sasuke’s relationship that @depressedhatakekakashi brought up is that a lot of fans I’ve seen will try to paint blame on Kakashi for any shortcomings he may have had with him but will never and I mean never acknowledge Itachi’s - and Obito - horrible actions he made against Sasuke.

Itachi manipulated, traumatized and broke an 8 year old boy because he was too cowardly to go against the system. Obito took everything away from Sasuke and made sure he was always on the verge of a breakdown because he was easier to control. Both of them ruined his life in ways we can’t even begin to understand. Intention does not take away from the consequences of their actions. Itachi and Obito were the cause of Sasuke’s suffering and you want me to believe Kakashi is worse than them?

Was Kakashi the best teacher? No, he had his problems and some of them were the issue of the author, but when he did try with Sasuke and he met Kakashi halfway there things went smoothly.

Was Kakashi even the best person? No, his words for example to Sasuke about his clan was inconsiderate and downright offensive but to put him on an equal and even greater level to what both Itachi and Obito did is absurd.

Sasuke and Kakashi’s relationship issue is that they both went through incredibly traumatic things as children but came out of it with differing perspectives of the world.

Sasuke’s anger and frustration was easier to pin on a single person because he was led to believe a single person was the cause of all his tragedy. Revenge in his mind was the only thing to keep him alive, it was genuinely the only thing he had left. Kakashi never had a single person to blame everything on. His tragedies were mostly caused by a general tragedy instead of a personal one.

Their relationship is supposed to have conflict because of their similar upbringing’s and differing beliefs. Sasuke said that he’d lose himself to revenge just to reach that goal and Kakashi didn’t want him to do that for the end product. The problem people need to have is that Kishimoto didn’t flesh their relationship out enough to where they understand each other. It wasn’t the revenge itself he had an issue with but the revenge consuming him and that’s the conflict between the two because that’s what Sasuke didn’t care for.

I feel I yapped enough but Sasuke and Kakashi’s relationship really is great - and could’ve been even greater. Kakashi isn’t the villain in Sasuke’s story and y’all know that. They are parallels to each other and are different outcomes of similar situations.

[kacievvbbbb]

God Characters like Erwin Smith and Shanks and the way they’ve let their trauma run their lives. Erwin to the more obvious extent of course but;

Something about men imprisoned by the love they have for their dead fathers violently taken from them to young and too soon.

Cloaking yourself in the weight of his dreams won’t save you. The dream will end and there will still be a hole in your heart and bodies in your wake.