#as a wels fan i feel like i should take personal offense to this but it's so funny i can't even be mad

[unnamed-atlas]

I would ask why he said this but honest to God I stopped asking why schlatt says anything several years ago

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

could I request a fic where Wels and Hels play that game Wilbur and Slimecicle play in Tommy's 'Minecraft’s Lava Ravine Mod is actually funny...' ? i really like your Wels and Hels fics

so i watched this video and i rly liked it so i watched it a few more times then i watched some more mod videos by Tommy then i got overly attached to Philza Minecraft so i sought out his videos then everything spiralled out control so now i am a fan of about half the Dream SMP members and that is the story of how this one ask opened up a new corner of MCYT for me so thank you very much /gen :)

also this is a follow-up to this one, though it’s not entirely necessary to read that one first :)

…

  Wels knocks on the door to Hels’s cottage, using the special knock that Hels made him memorise to make sure he knows it’s Wels at the door. 

  “Come in.”

  Wels enters the cottage and closes the door behind him. He finds Hels sitting on his bed, legs dangling over the side. “Morning. How you feeling today?”

  “Better,” mutters Hels. “Thanks.”

  “Great! I thought you might be bored, so I brought a game for us to play together. Want to try it out?”

  Hels gives a suspicious scowl. “What kind of game?”

  “It’s a battle game,” replies Wels, sitting down on the floor and setting the chest he’s holding down in front of him. “Come.”

  After a pause, Hels lowers himself onto the floor and shuffles into position opposite Wels. “What is this?” Hels demands, gesturing to the pile of stuff Wels is creating next to the chest. 

  “Okay, let me explain how it works. So we take it in turns to put something in the chest and the other person has to match it. We start out with a thing called a “core”, which you have to try and protect. You basically make up the rules as you go along and it can be really fun.” 

  “Um… okay…”

  “So look. I’ll start, then you can see as we go along.”

  Wels places an apple in the chest, in the middle of his side. “This is my core. Use this as yours.”

  He hands Hels an apple. After a moment, Hels places it in the same position as Wels’s but on the other side. 

  “Okay, now it’s my turn,” says Wels, placing a feather in front of his apple. “I place a feather in the offensive position.”

  “What does that mean?” Hels asks confusedly. 

  “It means you now have to make your move. Choose something either the same as or better than a feather and place it in either an offensive or defensive position.”

  Frowning, Hels thinks for a moment before placing an oak log next to his apple.

  “No, offensive or defensive,” says Wels.

  Hels throws his arms up angrily. “This stupid game doesn’t make any sense! How can a chest be offensive or defensive? Why don’t YOU put my oak log somewhere then, if you know this game so well!”

  Wels patiently takes the oak log and moves it in front of the apple. “This is the offensive position, because it’s closest to my core.” He moves it behind the apple. “This is the defensive position, because it protects your own core. Do you understand?”

  Hels scowls. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a baby.”

  “I’m not. I just think this game could really be your thing if you give it a real shot.”

  After a moment, Hels sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Your go?”

  Wels nods and puts a row of wheat seeds behind his apple. “A defensive row of wheat seeds.”

  “Wait, you can’t put more than one item at a time!” Hels snaps. 

  “You can, but only with weak items. It can be broken pretty easily if you have a strong attack item like… *ahem*... an axe.”

  It takes Hels a moment to understand but when he does, he takes his iron axe and places it in front of his apple. 

  Smiling, Wels takes out his wheat seeds. “There you go, you’ve broken my defences. Because you got me to take out one of my items, you get another go. If you have another strong attack item, you can take my core and win the game.” 

  Hels considers the items in his inventory for a minute, before hesitantly putting an almost broken crossbow next to the axe. 

  “Whoa, where did you get that?” Wels gasps.

  “It was a pillager!” snaps Hels defensively. “I killed a pillager! I didn’t steal it!”

  “I wasn’t implying that, don’t worry. And hey, that takes my core! You won!”

  Hels blinks as Wels hands him his apple. “I what?”

  “You won!” Wels beams. “Good job!”

  As Hels stares at the apple in shock, Wels deduces that his counterpart has never won anything before. He smiles and pats Hels in the shoulder. “Good job,” he repeats warmly. 

  “D-Don’t patronise me,” responds Hels, but there’s no anger in his words. 

  “I’m not. I may have helped you a bit at the beginning but you were the one who landed the final blow. With practise, I think you could be really good. Did you have fun?”

  Hels pauses for a moment, before sighing. “Yeah, kinda. Maybe. ...can we play again?”

  Wels grins. “Of course.”

  The two play for the rest of the afternoon, with a quick pause so that Wels can go fetch some new items to play with. Hels’s confidence grows the more games they play, and even though he makes some questionable decisions during some games, he’s clearly having so much fun that Wels decides not to challenge him. 

  “THREE FIRE CHARGES IN ATTACK POSITION!” roars Hels triumphantly. “SURRENDER YOUR CORE OR BE DESTROYED!”

  Wels only just holds in his laughter as he hands over his ender pearl core. “Wow, where did you find three fire charges?”

  “Whether or not I stole them from your house while you were at the shopping district the other day is utterly irrelevant,” responds Hels, holding the ender pearl as if it’s a baby. “I BELIEVE that makes it eleven games to me, four to you?”

  “I think you’ll find it’s more like nine to six, but okay.”

  “You did absolutely nothing to deserve that golden carrot core win. In fact, I still think you should have been disqualified. I had a SPECTRAL ARROW, for crying out loud! In what universe does that not beat a golden carrot?! Also, I still can’t believe you almost didn’t let me have that music disc. If I were to bash it with a golden hoe, would it or would it not break? I’m PRETTY SURE it’d break. Ooh, what if we used a honey bottle as the next core? Wouldn’t that be-.”

  He breaks off as he finds Wels gazing at him. “What? What’s that look for?”

  “Sorry.” Wels leans back with a smile. “It’s just nice to see you so passionate about something.”

  Hels glances away to hide his slightly red cheeks. “Shut up. This game is still stupid; I just like kicking your butt at it.”

  “Uh huh, sure, okay.” 

  A slight pause follows this.

  “Can we play again?” Hels asks.

  “Of course.”

[zbjeanscompany-blog]

Kpop Idols and the Cultural Appropriating of Blacks

It’s a working title. It’s a constant thought I’ve had since becoming a Kpop fan. It circles my head daily and it’s finally spilling out of my mouth.

As Kpop bands and idols gain popularity in the states, I worry. What will happen when black artists start noticing that they’ve been taking from us, getting international fame, and still pulling dumb shit like performers wearing dreads. I understand they don’t follow American media heavily-some do though and you know it- so they might not know all of our culture and history. But not knowing something is to be ignorant to it, and I’m tried of just accepting that.

Why, once you’re told you’re ignorant can’t you apologize and CHANGE. Why continue to hurt us? It’s not as if US fans aren’t vocal about the disrespect to black culture. I see the fights, I read the comments, I see the campaign, and the emails. No one wants to listen. Or at least learn enough fucking English to understand what’s we’re saying, and that’s straight up offensive. Don’t market to us, don’t make thousand on US tours, don’t take from black artists, and don’t put English in your videos to be more “global and marketable” if you don’t give a shit about your market.

I know Southern Korean culture to hold respect and manners high, but they don’t respect us. I know that many idols love their fans of all colors, but see those same idols wearing dreads(Kai, really? It didn’t even look good on you. I could watch “KoKoBop” performances until he took those out) But why does are disrespectful cultural appropriation and prejudice tolerated? Why does respect end when the skin is dark?

I follow Black and African Youtubers living in South Korea, and it’s a very similar sentiment. They express their discontent and personal experiences with colorism and racism in South Korea, but most give the same excuse. “Oh they’ve never seen us before”, “they don’t know better”, i”t’s their culture”, “this is just how things are”. If we accepted things like this, we wouldn’t of had the Civil Rights Movement or have basic human freedoms now.

We demanded, and are still demanding, to be treated with equal respect and rights as all humans. You don’t nearly see as many white or light skinned people in South Korea complaining about stares, glares, hair grabbing, touching, and people taking pictures of them like they’re a fucking carnival amusement. We are humans. Treat us differently, and you are doing a racist and prejudice act.

I’m not saying all of Kpop is racist. I’m not saying all of South Korea is racist. I’m just saying the racism and colorism that is there now needs to end. ESPECIALLY as they continue to try to break America. Like fuck sometimes entires backtracks and lines are taken from black artists and yet they still wear traditionally black hairstyles for fame and money(Looking right fucking at you CL damn “Get Lifted” song)

We shouldn’t tolerate this behavior. You don’t have to stop listening to you favorite group, you don’t have to quit Kpop. Just say and stand for what’s right. If you see an idol in braids-I’m not talking Katiniss Hunger game hair or pig tail braids I’m talking boxer braids, cornrows, protective styles- or dreads, say you don’t appreciate it. Call it what it is, cultural appropriation. Quote tweet you discomforte. Comment of feeds. Tell fans that have a hard time understanding or don’t know much about black culture about the situation and the history. Because if I give them the benefit of the doubt and they really don’t know better, who’s gonna teach them? Another Korean? Because that’s been going so fucking wel right now right?

The black community and its allies should stand together to create a dialogue between fans and idols about the cultural appropriation of blacks and racism. It doesn’t need to be a fight if they listen, but if it doesn’t end or if we don’t see a desire to understand our perspective at all, then it’s going to be bad.

Think , what if JHope showed up to an US performance or award show in that dumb af braided hat. You think Cardi B, Nikki, Kanye, Beyoncé, and others aren’t gonna talk shit? We tear apart white people for doing this Shit. So how they gonna react to some kids from across the world getting rich off copying their music and look when we have black kids are out here getting targeted and killed for being black? It just boils down to that last thought. Y’all are cool and make money off of looking and acting black, when people are killed and imprisoned just for being black.

I am proud of my culture. I love that you love my culture. You’re not allowed to take from it to make money and fame, then claim ignorance or culture as an excuse. It’s 2017, go on the damn internet and learn about black history and culture if you like our fashion music so much. It would take you probably a 20 minute google search to find out blacks are discriminated against in the States, that blacks a killed for being black still in so many countries, that colorism is a global disease, and to stop wearing those dumb ass braid hats.

I’ll probably make a Youtube video about this, to explain more and show more examples. But I wanted to rant a little. I’m continuing research so if you’d like to discuss feel free. But I don’t except the excuses of “it’s their culture” “and they don’t know any better”. If they can google black fashion they can google black history. Ignorance is not a cultural value, it’s a fucking cop out and a bad one at that. Educate yourself and respect your own and other’s heritages

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Helping Hands

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty Two: Getting the Upper Hand

MSNBC’s Jennifer Ellis contributed to this story 

Ty Stone, former photographer and reporter of some of the hottest gossip from New York City’s cast of millionaires, actors, and musicians, recently accused of abduction of a minor, blackmail, assault, and other crimes, was attacked and beaten on Monday by a mob of inmates at the Midstate Correctional Facility where he is being held pending his trial, currently scheduled for late February. 

Once the boyfriend and constant companion of billionaire industrialist Tony Stark, Stone came from a moderate background. He grew up along the Jersey Shore where 

“Why are you reading this shit?” 

Bucky stuck his index finger in his mouth to nurse a small papercut. “Because Darcy sent it to me and you told me that I was supposed to do everything Darcy said to do?” 

“Pretty sure you should never listen to anything I say,” Tony muttered. He glanced at the headline. Name sounded familiar. Oh, right, yeah, the thing with a leaked prototype StarkPhone last year that she’d tried to scoop on. “Ellis doesn’t like me. She’s trying to paint Ty all sympathetic overly-attached girlfriend syndrome. That’s not even cute when it’s YouTube videos.” 

“You think she’s going to get any traction with that?” 

Tony shrugged. “Maybe a little, but people are weird about kids. The criminals in jail who are most likely to be hurt by other inmates are the ones that committed crimes against children. That Ty, as a gay man, kidnapped the son of my boyfriend in some ransom-slash-revenge plot? A judge isn’t going to go easy on him, and even if he gets some sort of mitigating sentence, ten years in prison with the other inmates out to get him is going to last a lot longer than a twenty year sentence where he’s mostly left alone.” 

“So, you don’t think he’s going to get out of it,” Bucky said, a statement, not a question, really. He was thumbing through the rest of the mail, sitting at the tiny corner desk that Tony had squashed into his office. It ruined the effect of the room, which Tony actually found a goddamn relief, because the interior decorator who’d put the whole thing together had delusions of fucking grandeur and the place looked and felt too much like Howard’s study for Tony to really relax or get work done. The ‘shop was where his work happened. This… this was parlor dressing. You know, you could just redecorate the whole room. There was a thought. Tony put a mental sticker on it to come back and examine at a later time. 

“You mean do I think he can plea-bargain out of it or something?” Tony spun around lazily in his chair, dropping the clipping into the trash where it belonged. “Maybe? The case is a lot more political than it looks on the surface. Ty’s got dirt on a lot of important people, and I’m sure he’s really trying to make good on those blackmail opportunities. There’s going to be pressure on the prosecuting attorney, on the judge. And there’s no such thing as a neutral jury of peers.” 

(mobile readers, ware the read more)

Tony dug around in his desk and pulled out a zippered bag of dried blueberries. “But, if you’re worried, a little birdie told me that Killian’s agreed to a plea deal. He’s still an asscan of epic proportion, but I don’t know that he’d have gotten mixed up in this if Ty hadn’t been directing him. Five years in a minimum security and he’ll turn state’s. I think it’s a good thing, it’ll nail the lid on Ty’s coffin.”   

“Good to know,” Bucky said. He unfolded another piece of mail, scanned the contents and put it in one stack. “So, um…” 

“You know what day --” Tony said, at the same time. “No, wait, you go first, it’s okay.” Tony swallowed hard, sneaking another glance at the calendar on his desk. He’d been working his way up to this all day and Bucky kept sidelining him with conversation that was important, or urgent, or sometimes not, but Tony was having a hard time getting to the point. 

Bucky waved another piece of paper. “I um… got a job offer.” 

Tony blinked. That was… that might actually be an answer to his question, because what the fuck even? Tony didn’t even know that Bucky was looking for work. Looking for work was looking ahead. To a future that didn’t have a Tony in it. “Really? That’s… good? Is it good? What sort of job? Is…” 

“Cool your jets, rocketman,” Bucky said, fanning himself with the piece of paper. “It’s just something I’ve been considering, you know. I don’t want to complain, I really don’t, because you do so much, but honestly, I’m getting bored. And I feel… useless, kinda.” 

Yep, Tony thought, slumping back in his seat. This was the moment. Bucky knew the calendar as well as Tony did. It wasn’t random, this wasn’t a random conversation, this was on purpose, this was three months to the fucking day. It’s been real, it’s been fun, gotta go, don’t call me, I’ll call you. 

“So, I’ve got this enormous paycheck from SI,” Bucky continued, as if he didn’t realize he was pulling Tony’s life down around his ears, and why should he? Bucky was his own, independent person, he had a life before Tony came into it. “--and I wanted, you know, to make some sort of… I mean, meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

Wait, what? 

“What?” Tony said, his mouth catching up with his brain. “Sorry, I must have missed something, because I clearly recall meeting me has involved stuff like you getting shot and kidnapped and having naked pictures online.” 

Bucky tilted his head to one side and gazed at Tony from under his bangs. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re a walking disaster, Tony?”

“Um… yes?” 

“Kinda sounded to me like that was what you were doing. Making a list of all the reasons why I shouldn’t consider this -- you, us. This thing. A good thing.” Bucky finger-combed his hair back. “Is there some reason you’re doin’ that?” 

“Because it’s true?” 

“That’s horseshit, Tony,” Bucky said. There was a strange sort of fire-laced pain in Bucky’s eyes, a smoldering rage that didn’t warm, only seared and left ashes. “You know, I looked straight down the barrel at Ty’s death and I didn’t fucking do it. And I see you and see what he’s done to you, and I wonder why I didn’t. I just don’t think I could kill him enough to make you better. Whole.” 

“What are you even talking about, I thought we were talking about you taking a job… somewhere else.” 

“That. That right there, that,” Bucky said, pointing. “I mention getting a job offer and I don’t even say what it’s about or where it is, and you’ve already packed my bags and seen me off at the curb. That you think I’d just leave like that -- and don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeballing the calendar, because I was a sniper, remember? I see everything. Even things I’d rather I didn’t.” 

Well, that was almost offensive, that’s what that was. “Yeah?” Tony crossed his arms, feeling awkward and exposed as Bucky eyed him. “What is it you see?” 

“I see the way you wake up at night,” Bucky said. “One moment you’re asleep, and the next, you’re awake and on high alert. Because you’ve been taught the hard way that you’re vulnerable when you’re asleep and you’re terrified. I see the way you disarm or deflect every attempt to compliment you. The way you give credit to others for work you’ve done, and take blame for everything that goes wrong. Even if Ty was only working with the tools that other people put in place for him… I wish to Christ I’d have shot him. I shot people during the war who deserved it less. Maybe if he could never hurt you again, he’d stop haunting you.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that I’m irredeemably broken,” Tony said, which was just whining and he fucking knew it. He was fishing for some sort of rescue here, it was hideously uncomfortable to listen to Bucky’s run-down on all his carefully cultivated coping mechanisms. 

“No,” Bucky said. “What I’m saying is that you’re so used to being hurt that you’re trying to beat me to the punch. I don’t want you to do that anymore, baby, and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

Tony waved a hand in front of his face. “Time out for my epic self-esteem issues,” he said. It wasn’t easy to stuff everything behind the wall; Bucky kept dragging it out, trying to shine a light on shit that was over and done and not fucking relevant anymore, and Tony just wanted to get… on with his life. Whatever that even was anymore. 

“I’ll play it your way for now,” Bucky said, cautiously. “But not forever, Tony. We gotta deal with your baggage some day.” 

“But not today,” Tony said. Yay, he won again. If you called it winning. If winning was what he was doing. If it wasn’t losing, if what he was doing was driving Bucky away with his insecurities and that wasn’t winning at all, that was fucking losing and-- He was doing it again, goddamnit, gone full circle, zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I’m listening. What… Tell me about the job offer.” 

“I’ve been talking with Donnette--” Bucky started. 

That name was familiar, why did Tony know that? “Donnette Glenn?” 

“Yes, the Director for the Helping Hands Food bank,” Bucky said. “I see you remember her.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, I remember Donnette. I only see her once a week.” 

“So, she wants to retire next year,” Bucky said. “Her daughter’s moved down to Pennsylvania and she wants to be able to spend more time with her grandbabies. So, the pantry will need a new manager, come this time next year. I’d do some on-the-job training, and the Board wants me to finish my bachelor’s. I’ve drawn up a class schedule, and I’d be able to finish within a year of starting work, so that’s acceptable to them. And it’d be giving something back to the community that helped Steve an’ me so much.” 

Well, that would keep him in the city, at least. “Well, that’s very… noble of you.” That sounded condescending as fuck, but Tony wasn’t sure what the proper word would be. 

Bucky chuckled. “I’m no white knight. Furthest thing from.” 

“You want to talk about horseshit,” Tony said, “that’s it right there. Have you even got a clue how damn heroic you are? I mean, I’ve seen you. When someone else is at risk, you step right the fuck up. You know how rare that is? Real heroics?” 

Bucky looked like he wanted to protest, and Tony was almost looking forward to throwing Bucky’s own words back at him, about diffusing and deflecting. “It’s who I am. I can’t just stand there, when I see something going wrong.” 

“Must be genetic,” Tony joked. “Your son’s just like you. Wanda, too. She always wants to… fix everything.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Gets us in trouble all the damn time. So, here’s the other thing, now. Killian’s off for at least five years, and probably on parole for a long damn time after that. Stone’s going up the creek. Your end of the contract is fulfilled. I’ve been here for three months, so, my end is upheld. Which makes us both free agents again.” 

Tony closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at Bucky while this happened. “Yeah, I… I know.” 

“So, I guess my question is this, Tony,” Bucky said, and he was lots closer than Tony expected, his hand coming down on the arm of Tony’s chair. “Are you planning to go have an affair?” 

“What? No!” Tony opened his eyes in shock. “That was never part of the plan. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“Good,” Bucky said. “I don’t think I’d react very well to that. I get jealous.” 

“I --” God, Bucky was standing so close, Tony could feel the heat of him seeping into the air around them. “I don’t want anyone else.” That was nothing but the truth, bald and open as it was. Pathetic and needy as it was. 

“I don’t, either,” Bucky said. “Trial by fire boyfriending, remember?” 

“I remember.” 

“Think we’ve passed the trials, babe,” Bucky said. He leaned even closer, his lips mere inches from Tony’s. For a moment, Tony thought that sinful mouth was going to come down on his, and then Bucky stopped. “You… you really don’t know, do you? I mean, I’m looking right at you, and you don’t see it.” 

“See what?” 

“I love you,” Bucky said, simple, plain, blunt. 

Someone had knocked all the breath out of him. His lung had collapsed again. Something. Because Tony literally could not draw in air, it simply wasn’t happening. “Don’t… don’t say that… It’s hard enough without that.” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to be,” Bucky said. “It doesn’t have to be hard at all, Tony. If you don’t feel the same way, if you don’t think you could feel the same way, I’ll go. But if you do -- and babe, I really think you do, I hope you do. I hope what I’ve been seeing in your eyes and on your face is at least a little more than friends, then it doesn’t have to be hard, because I’m not going anywhere.” 

Tony floundered. “I…” 

Bucky squatted down, took Tony’s hands in his. “Do you want me to stay? Stay here, with you. Not as your employee or your pretend lover, but as your boyfriend. Is that what you want? You’re allowed to want things, Tony, it’s okay.” 

“Every single day you stay, it’s harder to face the idea of letting you go.” 

“Then don’t let go. I told you this before. All you gotta do is love me,” Bucky said. 

It was more than that. Tony already loved him, that was easy, that part was simple. Being in love was like breathing. It was believing that Tony was loved. That was the problem. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confessed. 

“Hate to break it to ya, babe, but I ain’t exactly an expert,” Bucky said. “We’ll figure it out as we go, just like everyone else does. One day, one problem, at a time.” 

“We’ve had some pretty damn big problems,” Tony pointed out. “Just saying.” 

“And I’m still here,” Bucky said. “Nothing that’s happened has done anything to change how I feel about you aside from make me care more. I… Tony, don’t make me go. If you care about me at all, we can make this work, I know we can.” 

“Make you? Make you go? Why… I don’t want that, no. I’ve been trying to figure out how to let you leave without making a scene about it.” 

“Well, you can stop rehearsing a conversation that you don’t gotta have,” Bucky said, firmly. “I ain’t leavin’. Now, are you gonna kiss me, or are you gonna continue to play devil’s advocate for a position that nobody in this room is supporting?” 

“I’ll take what’s behind door number one, Monty,” Tony said, and kissed Bucky with such fervor that Tony fell out of his chair and they ended up in a tangled heap under the desk. And then, since they were down there anyway, Tony found some other things he could do with his mouth. 

as always, you can find me @tisfan or on A03 [x] where all my work is archived