#let's change our site to be like the ones people are fleeing from

[dragonbornette]

@staff

I cannot stress enough to Tumblr staff that they do not need to change the site. Do not try to be like Twitter. Do not try to be like Reddit. Do not alter how this site works.

Tumblr will be the most popular social media site if they continue letting all these other sites implode

[invinciblerodent]

losing my mind a little bit about the Secret Ending this morning

I'm not even joking about the amount of spoilers and (frankly, not entirely hinged) rambling I'm putting under the cut this time, read at your own risk and picture me like this

So far what we know is all very vague and nebulous (on purpose, not complaining), and besides a few ominously growled Mercer-lines and a couple illustrations, there's kind of very little concrete stuff said but it's just enough to drive me bonkers, so here it goes.

The whispers. The Executors. The Devouring Storm. The Qunari fleeing South for a forgotten reason (or a reason purposefully scrubbed from any and all record, hello Shaperate), never to return to their ancestral lands. (Blight reasons? Probably? Probably Blight reasons. Let's put a pin in that.)

I believe Weekes (iirc) confirmed that every character's decisions were still all their own, they were just.... put into the position to be the ones making the decisions they would, given who they are. Which, I think means that the “whispering” is meant to be seen as more symbolic, and was shown the way it was in the art not to subvert, or even much recontextualize past events on a personal scale, but more for dramatic effect.

Which leads me to interpret the Executors right now not as a direct influence, or even some stand-in for a hard deterministic stance that absolves the characters of moral responsibility (and isn't actually very useful in conversations about morality, imo), I think their presence is not meant to imply a lack of free will in terms of the individual actors, it's... well, it's compatibilism. Compatibilism, which (broadly, in a rudimentary, philosophy 101 sense) argues that,

Determinism exists (in Thedas at least)

We are not free from moral responsibility just because determinism exists,

Moral responsibility comes from choices made freely,

We (as both people and characters) are to be considered (functionally) free when we are not physically or psychologically constrained from following through with our decisions- we can decide what we do, which is why what we do matters (Hume, broadly)

The choices come from character, which is summarily what is NOT chosen freely (G. Strawson)

Ergo, the Executors may have set up the broad circumstances that made the characters the people who they are AND the rough timeline of events they were reacting to, but the characters still were the ones to decide their actions based on what options their past and circumstances allowed them to see as their options.

ykwim? so like, I've seen people worry about this revelation taking away Loghain's complexity in particular, but Loghain's decisions are still his own, only... had there never been Orlesian rule over Ferelden during his youth (pin in that), he wouldn't have much of the trauma he does, the Rebel Queen Moira would not have been murdered, then Loghain wouldn't have met Maric as he fled the site of his mother's murder, Maric never would have become king or made Loghain his general, and then if it hadn't been for Yavana (BIG bag of snakes, ties into Flemeth/Flemythal, pin in that) in a distant land far away awakening the dragons, then Cailan wouldn't have been made king, he would not have colluded with Celene (pin in that too), Loghain wouldn't have grown terrified of another Orlesian invasion, and he probably wouldn't have decided that letting Cailan die and wresting control away from his daughter, Queen Anora (PIN IN THAT), to act as regent in defense of the version of Ferelden that lives in his head was the best thing he could have done. His decisions were all his own, and he remains responsible for them, he was simply... nudged into a position to make them, by external forces as well as the historical events that shaped his life and personality up to that point.

Like, it's not “Respected and Good general Changed because of Magical Whispers of Nefarious Agents”, but more "due to the Events, the Respected and Good general of Ferelden has severe PTSD; paranoia, and issues with xenophobia- let's send a world-ending level of a Cataclysm that way at a time when the king is making decisions and negotiations he fears and doesn't approve of, and let him do what a man like him would obviously do if he saw it necessary: try and 'save' his country".

Bartrand wasn't literally compelled by external forces to take the idol and betray his brother, because had he not been a displaced Orzammar merchant caste man (pin in that) who never quite feels secure, with a far more charismatic brother he simultaneously envies and looks down upon, he wouldn't have felt it necessary to amass great wealth, and he wouldn't have felt compelled to choose three times the bounty of their excursion at the price of betrayal.

And so on.

The very first slide in the secret ending also implies that one of the goals of the Executors was to get rid of the last of the elven gods- which kind of implies both that their power levels were comparable, and that whatever their ultimate goal is, it was somehow prevented by the Evanuris' presence.

Does that mean that these Executors predate the Evanuris, or are their contemporaries? Were THEY the ones the Evanuris were warring against, before their rise to power? The Blight is its whole issue, which I'm guessing also predates the Evanuris as they got corrupted by it, but are THEY ultimately responsible for the Blight then? Have THEY influenced Solas not in creating the Veil, but rising up against the Evanuris in the first place? DID THE EXECUTORS FUCKING ASTROTURF THE ELVEN UPRISING????

Also Harding says in D'Meta's Crossing that this more primal, more volatile version of the Blight that we're seeing now feels alive, while the Blight we've seen so far felt more inert, like a disease- I'm guessing that the Blight of ~Yore~ worked more like a virus, while the living Blight works more like a parasite?? And the Crimson Knight, who was Blighted by a primeval (DEFINITION NEEDED BIOWARE, HOW OLD DID THAT THAIG NEED TO BE TO NOT EVEN LOOK DWARVEN) artefact, was mentioned at the end of Absolution, and I don't know how much of that is going to come into play, but Meredith is now MISSING from the Minrathous version of the Black Emporium and I don't know what to do with myself at this point

i am making approximately zero sense, and i don't smoke, but in my soul, i've like thirteen lit cigarettes all crammed into my mouth at once and i am e a t i n g t h e m

[insipid-drivel]

To All Those That Have Reached Out

It's been a very bad few weeks, and I haven't exactly tried to be subtle about it on tumblr lately. I've gotten tired of bottling up the persecutions and backhanded slaps from my brother and sister from the entire world, and tumblr is one of the few platforms I'll vent about them on.

Sincerely, thank you to those people - mutuals, followers, and outright strangers alike - who reached out to me over these past awful few weeks. I haven't had the ability to get back to everyone yet because my health is taking a nosedive again and I haven't been able to expend the kind of emotional energy to communicate and get back to everyone quickly without risking another backslide. I need surgery soon, and I'm trying my hardest to lower my stress levels and focus on my health. I'm autistic, so overshooting my social energy can really be bad for my general health.

From offers to doordash groceries to my house, to offers just to listen, I've wept over the amount of concern and compassion that I've received over the past days. I am not exaggerating, to those who have sent me a message, that your shared sympathies, concerns, advice, and care have been above and beyond anything I've received from my siblings in over 10 years. Backdraft is a helluva symptom when you've been taught from childhood to believe your very birth was the cause of your older sibling to hate and abuse you. My sister resents me for being born and taking my mom's attention away from her (she has openly admitted this to our mother), while my brother resents me for my mental and physical disabilities and has taken to taking his angst and childish pettiness out on our mother as a way of punishing me. I've been ashamed of the little brother I spent so much of my life devoted to bringing up well that I barely recognize him anymore.

I was recently taught the phrase, "Never hold water for your oppressors, because they will never let you have a drink," and I've been taking it to heart. I hate to think of my brother and sister as oppressors or anything but people I want more than anything to see how much I've sacrificed, changed, endured, and given up out of love for them, but staying on the island they've marooned me on will only result in a sad end when I have the opportunity to set my own sails for other waters. Even my mother has washed her hands of my siblings, feeling just as used and taken advantage of by them as I've felt unfairly persecuted and judged. My siblings are extremely myopic, self-centered, and selfish people that never deserved the time and effort I put in to showing them how much I loved and cared for them.

I'm thankful to have grown up as part of one of the generations that celebrates found family, because it's made it impossible for me to feel completely hopeless about the future.

Opening up to one of my best and only friends of over 10 years has resulted in what may turn out to be a happy change. My mom and I would benefit from another person in the house, and after several tense and nerve-wracking talks with him, my best friend will be visiting for a couple of weeks soon. Given that he's queer and his is one of the states that flipped red this past horrifying election while I live in Washington, it just seems to make sense that we at least meet up in a safe state and see how we go together and if he likes it here.

My mom is thrilled to the point of practically flying to him herself and carrying him piggy-back here overnight. She's an incredibly stoic person in the face of abuse, but I know my brother's disrespect and outright rudeness to her recently has been hurting her.

I can't wait for when my friend visits and if he finds he wants to settle here, either as a housemate or in his own place (although real estate prices are skyrocketing in WA right now due to a rush of former red-staters fleeing here in the wake of November 6th's election results). We met here on tumblr not long after I first joined the site to promote and work on a webcomic series I was involved in at the time, and our friendship turned out to outlive the comics. I'm very excited for the opportunity to see him and spend face-to-face time with someone I've loved like another brother for years.

Things are still bumpy, and if you haven't heard from me after messaging me, please know that I've probably seen your messages and taken them to heart. My dark spells still come and go, and there are times where I still get trapped in feeling hopeless and lonely, but I'm working on it.

[duckyfruitbat]

SCP 5000: Dread, Isolation, and Hopelessness

With Halloween being a month away, I thought I should cover some more spooky things, be it games, movies, themes, or anything that catches my fancy.

The SCP foundation needs no introduction, the monsters locked up within its archives are known even by people who don't follow SCP stories. The source archives conveying each story through a bureaucratic system gives the feeling of finding these stories yourself as you rummage through the filing cabinets finding each nondescript file with something fascinating hidden in each one. All with a stamp from a foundation that has sworn to protect humanity from the shadows. We all have our favorites here, everyone has heard of the sculpture, or the shy guy. My favorite however takes the very concept and goal of the foundation, and subverts it.

SCP 5000: Why?, is a suit of armor that was designed by the foundation that sits in a standard storage unit within site 22. It's not the suit itself that is of interest, but it's what was recorded by the suit that put it on the foundations radar.

In the files taken from the suit are logs from an alternate timeline following a foundation personnel named Pietro who is fleeing from the foundation after the O-5 council decided that it was time to destroy humanity in its entirety. To achieve this they released all of their most dangerous entities into cities, destroyed anything they had that could save humanity, and started experimenting on themselves to make themselves more efficient in this extermination.

Pietro only gets away because of the suit he slips himself into as his own site is getting cleaned out. It's an Absolute Exclusion Harness, a full suit of power armor designed by the foundation with a camouflage functionality as well as cutting edge life support system achieved with anomalous means. It can keep you alive for years, as well as letting you walk in front of someone without being noticed. Just like the one behind you right now. After leaving the site he makes his way to a safe house and learns about the state of the world outside. From here it's a who's who of the SCP universe, you see all the celebrities of the wiki engaging in bloody carnage. The shy guy, the builder bears, even SCP 682, are all out and doing whatever they want. It is revealed that the foundation sent out a global message revealing their initial purpose and their new plans to kill all humans. It is also revealed that in this change, any helpful SCP has been destroyed. This includes any contingency plan, like with the emergency cloning machine in Yellow Stone, as well as the underground London.

Eventually Pietro decides to come out of his base to find answers and survivors well into the extermination. He is confronted by a world that is getting more and more quiet as he goes. Only getting the occasional glance of human life but being quickly extinguished by foundation soldiers who are different somehow. They are expressionless except for the feeling of disgust for other humans, they also don't feel pain. Pietro runs into a line of soldiers being stabbed by their own commander, but they don't react expcept for one, who is executed on the spot.

At some point Pietro blacks out and finds himself in possession of a suitcase. In this suitcase he only knows that it's SCP 55, something that automatically wipes an observers memory of any image or knowledge of it. This includes written descriptions, the only thing known about it, is that it isn't round, and that is precisely the only thing Pietro knows about it. He also knows that he needs to bring it to another SCP, 579. From here things take a further downward turn.

As Pietro is walking, he only sees bodies, the only signs of life are from radio broadcasts. Only occasionally he finds people, he doesn't remove his harness but still sits with the people and listens to their stories. Here is where he gets information about interviews with foundation personnel who don't reveal much. It only lets him know that there are still sizable populations still out there.

He also starts opening the suitcase when he finds things too difficult. Every time he does this, time skips ahead and he's closer to SCP 579. He also eventually finds a certain foundation doctor who avoided whatever the rest of the foundation has done. It is here where he removes his helmet for the first time. It is here we learn the consequences of staying in the suit, and not sleeping or eating. The suit is keeping him alive, but now we have to question if he can even survive a normal life outside of it.

He continues to use SCP 55 as a fast forward button, but each time the world gets more dreary, and the silence is deafening. He eventually does make it to his destination, not much is revealed other than that foundation soldiers somehow gained the abilities of the sculpture. The weeping angel abilities of these new soldiers have clued them in to Pietro's presence and one of them manages to gash his leg on his way to 579's containment room. When he finally gets there and face to face with 579, the tone shifts one last time. Right before he recorded a log to anyone that would listen to find answers as to why this happened. In the end it seems that 579 told him as he was dying. The last log is a recording from Pietro simply saying, "Oh... so that's how it is." His body was discovered by foundation personnel in a different timeline that diverges years previously. Here Pietro is still alive, the suit is unknown, and all is well.

I love this story because it is what I think about when I think of horror. It is an isolating experience, full of dread and hopelessness, even with the path to a solution. This also shows how much power the foundation has and that yes, they could just decide to end the world. This is why the GOC don't trust them, this is why governments are cautious, this is why there are so many other organizations that despise them, including their allies. While serving in the dark they have discovered so many ways to destroy the world, and anyone wielding a power like that is not to be taken lightly.

[fox-bright]

It’s very quiet now at night.

When I used to camp out with you, the evenings were always boisterous. Cheap, vile cider and coal-burned chicken in tin foil, you on that shitty guitar and me just singing. Whoever else wanted to come along did, of course—Tomas more often than not if he could get time away from the lab (or excuse our trips as data-collection fieldwork), Mona and Elspeth, one always there if the other was. Eric and Gunner and Carlo, various boyfriends and girlfriends, people who rotated in and out of the cast, but at the center of it—always you. Always me.

At the end of the evenings, late but still early enough that the stars hadn’t begun to wink out, we’d end up sprawled across the same sleeping bag, looking up. And you would talk about making a difference, being a hero, changing the world. All the goals you had, the places where you could see the fracture points in society; things where “Just a little bit of pressure would fix it.” If only you had enough power to exert.

“And I will. I can't pretend this is supposed to be normal,” you’d say, voice honey-thick and slow from alcohol and relaxation. “I'm gonna find a way to make it better. People are gonna know my name.”

I believed it. How could anybody imagine you’d ever be forgettable? But it wasn’t anything that I wanted for me. I’d let my eyes wander, picking out the blurry stars and thinking about poetry, and wonder if in that inevitable future you’d still remember me.

Funny how the world shakes out, sometimes.

If this were a normal war camp, sixty thousand bodies would make a lot of noise. But that’s really all they are, when I’m not paying attention—just bodies. They do their work, and then they put themselves away, quietly and neatly as a box of dolls. And the only tent here is my own; the weather can't hurt them.

Your own soldiers can feel fear, can be confused, can break rank and run. But mine could no more do that than my organs could decide to flee my body. And for every one you lose, I gain. Two thousand more this week, currently sitting silent and awaiting my attention.

It wouldn’t cost me any energy to keep them running, to give the camp the false appearance of life, but I don’t want to trouble them more than I need to. Even if they’re something like dreaming, when I’m paying attention there’s something there. And it didn’t ask to be forced to stick around.

And, I mean. Pretending that things are normal gets us into trouble, doesn’t it?

I finish up walking the wards, which I don’t really need to do either—I can tell when a squirrel comes past the boundary line, a human wouldn’t get within five hundred feet without getting my attention from a deep sleep—and return to my tent. One of the dead has run me a bath in the old tub we took from an abandoned farmhouse two days ago, and the crank-charge radio has a full battery, so I settle in to listen to the news.

The voice over the speaker is thin and tinny and false. “In light of the change of the seasons, curfews have been set to five PM; all citizens are required to be indoors before sunset. Reserve troops in Pennsylvania are prepared for the oncoming incursion. With the presence of Her Radiance in the city, citizens are already preparing for victory.”

God, I hate the news.

My control must be a little thready, or else I’m just leaking emotion all over the place, because the quiet listener in the corner of my tent starts to hum. It’s not a matter of vocal chords, exactly, but it’s soothing.

Between that and the hot water, I fall asleep.

In my dreams, it’s that last trip we ever all went on, the one that started out so normal. Drive the truck to the last paved campsite, then backpack two days into the woods, and the archaeological site you’d convinced Tomas would be great for his dissertation, and the shallow little cave with the low, unimpressive carving at the back. It didn’t look like much to me, but Tomas was sucking air in through his teeth like he’d faint if he didn’t concentrate on it.

“How did you know this was here?” Mona asked you, and you’d shrugged with one shoulder. “Intuition?”

And the feeling of disquiet that had been bubbling under my skin for the entire hike, of something being wrong with you but not knowing what, like just barely smelling the stink of a bear but not realizing it until I looked up and it was in the trail, that feeling just had time to key up into a fever pitch before something incredible made itself known.

It didn’t appear, because there was nothing to see. Only stones. Only dust.

It didn’t make noise, it had nothing to make noise with. There was no moaning of ghosts, there was no stink of ectoplasm, there was only—everything.

Bigger than galaxies. Hungrier than a black hole. And it turned its attention on us, and it ruined us.

What do you want?

It wasn’t asking in words. It was like a steel balloon shoved in through my ears and somehow still inflating; there wasn’t room for me in there, there wasn’t room for anything but the pain.

No room for lies.

What did I want? I wanted to go home and take a bath. I wanted to be back at the start of the trail and go the other way, I wanted to have said no, let’s stay in and make cookies. I wanted, most of all, to be small and unremarkable and brief.

It looked away from me with something like contempt, if contempt was the size of the moon.

I could hear Elspeth and Mona screaming, both at once. Tomas had stopped, almost right away; there was a sort of sick, bubbling wheeze from his direction, and then nothing.

But you.

You weren’t screaming.

You were whispering.

I couldn’t hear what it was you said. But oh—even if I couldn’t hear the words, I knew that voice. You sounded like you did on those late evenings, looking up. If only I was in charge. I could fix it. I could fix all of it.

Elspeth and Mona stopped screaming, and then stopped gasping. And I felt…drifty. The sharp stones underneath my back stopped mattering. The incredible pain in my head went cottony-soft and distant. The air went out of me and out of me and out of me, and then there wasn’t any more strength to bring it in again.

Ah, I thought, because there wasn’t any energy to lie to myself, either.

And then the incredible thing, whatever it was, was gone. And it was only you, and the corpses of all of your best friends.

I couldn’t see you anymore, but I knew you stood up, and dusted yourself off, and looked around. I knew you caught your breath when you saw me lying there. You stumbled, two steps, three, and then something steadied your posture.

You were changing already.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” you said. “It was going to be different.”

You reached down and stroked my face, but I wasn’t in there to feel it anymore.

“I can fix it.” You said. “I can fix—anything, now. Almost anything. Almost. Not this.” Your voice was changing. Something was leaking out of it, like blood into the dirt, and being replaced with a brightness, a sharpness. A coldness.

“You were supposed to be able to stop me, if I went wrong.” You said. And in a whisper, cut off at the end: “Stop me.”

And then you weren’t in there anymore, either. But you still stood, and you rolled your shoulders, and you turned your back on all of us.

“Oh, well!”

And you walked back down the mountain alone.

My body lay in the dirt until dark. But it wasn’t entirely empty. Stop me, you’d said; maybe your breath filled my lungs. Or maybe it was something left-over of the incredible thing—every god always has an alternate face, right?

Or maybe it’s just me, stubborn as ever. I still feel like me. Not that I’m sure I’d know the difference.

Whatever it was, when the sun went down, I stood up again.

I wasn’t, I am not, alive. Not really.

But I’m something.

You’d seemed not to care, when you—or whatever it was inside of you now—left us behind. You seemed cheerful and anticipative. I wasn’t so lucky, or so unlucky. When I saw Tomas, face down in a drying pool of his own blood, when I saw Elspeth and Mona clutching each other even in death, I nearly lost myself again. No. No. This is wrong. This is WRONG.

And Tomas sighed, and his body sat up. And Elspeth and Mona sat up, and arranged themselves, waiting for command in the way that hands do, or eyelids.

I wake up in the tub and the water is cooling, and there are tears on my face—a waste, that, I’ll have to drink some water now to balance it out—and the radio is whining down to nothing. I don’t have to reach far to feel where Tomas is, and where Elspeth and Mona are (still together, always). I couldn’t leave them on the mountain for the coyotes and the bears. So I brought them down with me, and they’re here with me still. Sometimes, when I look at them, I imagine I can see them looking back out their faces. I know better, mostly—my troops aren’t “loyal,” they’re just breathing my breath, and there’s very nearly nothing left of who they used to be. But whatever little scraps of soul are in there, they deserved better than to be murdered and abandoned.

All of my soldiers fight with the sort of ferocity generally kept to fantasy novels. But my three once-was friends, they’re faster, they’re sharper. Is that because I knew them when they were still people? Or is it because part of them still is capable of caring, and they know we’re coming for you? I can’t tell. This wasn’t ever supposed to happen to me, I wasn’t prepared for it.

(If you’d told me what you were going to do, could I have prepared?)

My attendant hands me a towel for my hair, and then one for my body, and I step from the tub. I pull on some clothes looted from a storefront in the dead city we passed through last week.

You’ve been “fixing things” all over the place, and it’s true, social problems sure are different than they were. Pollution’s not so big a thing, nowadays.

I can’t help but think we could have gone about all this a different way, though.

So when I get there, in about another two days, we’re going to have a talk about it.

“Stop me,” you said, with the very last breath that was you.

And you know me, I never could do any different than what you wanted.

As a lich who controls a ever-growing undead army, you have no interest in taking over the world. You’re only intrested in fulfuiling your friend’ last request, which was to make sure that the thing they were turning into would never harm another person.

[seijorhi]

Ok so YouTube keeps recommending anime clips from that one rent a girlfriend anime and now all I can think of is reader renting a boyfriend just to have yandiere bokuto or maybe hajime become infatuated with her and immediately touching her way more than what the contract has written on it 💦

I am on a Fukurodani kick this week, so let’s go with our darling boy Bokuto 😌

Once again Rhi learns that she is actually incapable of creating a ‘short drabble’

TW implied non-con

It’s embarrassing. You can’t even get a date to your ex boyfriend’s wedding. The fact that you’re even going to your ex’s wedding is bad enough as it is- you’d tried to wriggle out of it, but considering the girl he’s marrying is your cousin, your attendance is apparently ‘not optional’ according to your family.

But you’ll be damned if you show up to watch them tie the knot alone. Finding a date however, is more difficult than you think. Your male friends are either busy, taken, already going with somebody else or close enough with your ex that he’d know you were just bringing them along for show. Basically, you’re screwed. It’s not even that you want to prove that you can one-up him - it’s the pity he’ll give you. He thinks he ruined your life when he left (he didn’t) and that you’re still desperately pining for him (you’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than get back together with him).

It starts as a joke with a friend, you’re both a few wines deep, bemoaning your struggles when she suggests those Craigslist’s ads. “You know, the whole rent a boyfriend for a night thing, and then when you meet he’s actually kinda cute, and then you kiss him as part of the act but you both secretly want more and then you guys end up sleeping together and then-”

Ok, she’s clearly had one or two more than you, because that is definitely not how those stories go, but it does get you thinking. You’re not going to use Craigslist - you value your life and safety thank you very much - but there are sites out there that offer those... services.

Which is what leads you to Bokuto. The website seems reputable enough - at least for a boyfriend for hire kind of a deal, and the reviews don’t look too frightening. Actually, they’re glowing, and maybe that’s what gives you the final push to arrange a ‘consultation’ with the man.

“It’s an overnight thing,” you tell him over the FaceTime call, only for your eyes to widen and your cheeks burn as you realise what it sounds like you’re implying. “Not that I’m asking you for sex! I’m not, I know that’s against the rules, it’s just that-”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh, “Don’t worry about it. Overnight is fine, though we do charge extra for that.” You’d expected as much - at this point you value your pride more than you care about the small fortune you’re going to end up forking out for this whole thing. “Just tell me exactly what you’re wanting out of this, what you are and aren’t comfortable with, and then I guess we can start talking about how we met, come up with some meet cute story that’ll make everyone else super jealous.” He winks and your heart skips a beat.

The call that’s supposed to last twenty minutes goes on for almost an hour, but you feel strangely relieved when it’s done. Well, relieved and maybe even a little excited? Bokuto’s attractive and funny and he didn’t seem like a creep. It’s a ridiculously stupid idea, and you should probably be horrified that you’re even considering it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

He arrives at your place on time, which you count as a win, looking particularly fine in a nice suit with a tie that compliments the colour of your dress (as you’d discussed). He’s somehow managed to reduce you to a blushing and stammering mess as you sign the paperwork - and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Relax, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you tonight, just follow my lead.” His smile is beaming, but there’s a flicker of unease at the affectionate gesture. You’d agreed that posing as a ‘couple’ meant you’d have a show a little bit of PDA, but you’d thought he’d at least wait until you were actually at the wedding to start...

But he’s probably just trying to ease you into it. It has to look natural between the two of you, right?

To say that your family are impressed in an understatement. He’s tall, fit and handsome, and there’s this kind of bright, shining exuberance that just seems to draw people in. He’s like a puppy, almost - a super friendly golden retriever desperate for cuddles, and it’s sweet. Dutifully he sticks by your side the entire time. A little too close, maybe - following you every time you go to get a top up of your drink or a bite more food, reaching out to take your hand in his, but you suppose he’s just playing his part.

And he’s more than aware of your ex, who seems mighty interested in your new boyfriend, particularly for a man on his wedding day. You’ve just finished the entree course when all of a sudden Bokuto grabs your chin and tilts you back into a kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen it as you gasp in surprise. It only last for a moment, but when he pulls away there’s a distinctly satisfied look on his face. Your stomach twists into a knot, your cheeks warming under his heated gaze. You know that you said kissing was okay, inevitable at some point, but... it just took you a bit by surprise.

“What was that for?” you ask him quietly, trying not to frown as he toys idly with your fingers.

“Hm? Oh, your ex has been staring at us for the past five minutes. Figured I’d give him something to look at.”

It wasn’t a bad kiss by any stretch of imagination, but you can’t deny that it made you a little uncomfortable.

You know he’s only doing what you both agreed on, so you push down on those feeling and offer him a small smile and a nod, “Just, maybe warn me next time?”

He leans over and pecks your cheek, “Of course, baby.”

You choose to let the endearment slide.

It only gets worse as the night wears on. Bokuto’s reluctant to let you slip too far away. When your friends swarm to try and get you to come dance with them, Bokuto follows. He pouts when you ignore him in favour of dancing with the girls, and the very moment they turn their attention, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist.

“Dance with me,” he whines, and you fight back a sigh.

He holds you close as you sway with the music, his broad hands resting just south of what’s considered appropriate, but you have to keep reminding yourself that he’s playing the role of your boyfriend, and if he really was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be making such a fuss.

But when those hands start to wander, fingers grazing your sides, a hand dipping to rest on the curve of your ass, you have to put a stop to it. You don’t want to cause a scene, not when you can feel the eyes of the groom burning a hole in your back, but this doesn’t feel right anymore. He’s not exactly breaking any of the rules you set out, but there’s clearly been some miscommunication, because this is pushing right past your boundaries. “I just need some air,” you tell him with a tight smile, prying his arms off of you so you can make a hasty escape.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that you’ve booked a room in the hotel. You’re not relying on him to get you home, but there is absolutely no way in hell that you’re feeling comfortable enough to spend the night with him in the rooms you’ve booked - adjoining or not. It’s not his fault, you rationalise as you wait for the elevator, key in hand. Maybe this is how all of his engagements go - but fake boyfriend or not, he’s still a stranger, and this whole night has been too much.

You figure that you’ll slip away now, call an Uber back into town. There has to be a bus or something you can catch the rest of the way back home, even at this time of the night. You’ll text him once you’re on your way, letting him know that he’s welcome to the room (both of them, if he wants - they’re already paid for) and that he can expect the rest of his payment tomorrow as agreed. This was a bad idea, but you’re not going to be a bitch about it. You just want it over and done with.

You’re halfway through changing out of your dress when there’s an insistent knocking at your door. It must be your mother, you figure, or maybe one of your friends who saw you all but flee the dance floor downstairs, so you hastily re-do the zipper and try and right yourself before answering the door.

A pair of hooded, golden eyes greet you. Bokuto is grinning lazily, leaning up against the doorway with an arm braced against the frame, boxing you in. You hadn’t realised earlier just how big he really was - not just tall, but muscular - he dwarfs you without even trying.

He barges into the room before you can even try to protest, kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

“If you wanted to ditch so bad, baby, all ya had to do was say so.”

[chronicparagon]

Ghost Tour

Hello, everyone! 

This is my post on the ghost tour of a fort I went to a few nights ago. It was a tour that shared stories of love, broken hearts, betrayal, and death, all shared by candlelight. We walked along the vast field where the fort is in the middle of the night where people told us stories. Now, this is one of the most haunted sites in my state where people have recorded paranormal occurrences. 

The fort is on my tribe’s territory where it served as a post in Indian Territory in the early 1800′s. It served as a military post where US soldiers lived and was meant to help maintain peace between the Chickasaw and Choctaw tribes. Though we used to be one tribe long ago, we became enemies over time and were at war over the centuries. The Removal that led to us being put on Indian Territory did little to quell that as we have been forced by the US government to abandon our homelands and ways of life.

 If anything, it further agitated the anger and grief that taint the lands to this day. The fort had to defend against the militias of the Texas Republic and raids from the Plains tribes. The Confederates took over the fort in 1861, and the fort fell to destruction later by the fleeing Confederates at the end of the Civil War. 

We were permitted to take photos and I have done that. I will share some stories of the sites we walked through along with a few of my own paranormal experiences on the fort. However, my reviews of the photos did not find anything extraordinary except a couple, but I will let you guys be the judge. 

The journey started with everyone getting their own lanterns along with hearing the rules. Tourists were given glow stick necklaces, which will help staff find us in case we got lost. 

Once we got what we needed, the first storyteller led us down the field away from the welcome center. We walked in the dark with our lanterns past the bachelor’s barracks, adjunct’s office, and school ruins.  We stopped at a pole that was between the bachelor’s barracks, south barracks, and west barracks. Or at least, what used to be the barracks. 

The first storyteller told us the story of a soldier who came from further East. He was engaged to a woman named Julia before he was ordered to come to this very fort. He promised Julia he would send for her when he got there so they could marry. And so, he spent weeks with the others deployed to travel west. They were ordered to not stop and rest, and so they obeyed but at a dire cost.  The young soldier made it to the fort, but he passed away due to exhaustion and dehydration. As the story goes, he called for Julia before he passed away, and Julia died of a broken heart when she got the letter about her fiance’s passing. 

Now, it is said that the soldier and Julia’s spirits roam the fort late in the night, searching for each other. They would find each other at a flag pole where we stood, disappearing as they embraced each other. 

These are the photos of the area. I found nothing remarkable except the candles left at the ruins. 

The storyteller led us further down the field by the ruins of the barracks for a building where people do blacksmith work. There would be a blacksmith on site of the fort when it was active. 

There are stories of the police coming to the building after there are noise complaints from people who live nearby. The kerosene lamps hanging above would be on and people will hear something like a hammer hitting an anvil as late as two or three in the morning. The police would find the lamps on and the doors locked, which took some force to break through. What’s strange is they would find no one there. No people breaking in. No animals. Nothing. 

The photos show footprints from previous groups walking though, but the police would find the floors swept the night. No footprints were present. 

So, the police turned off the kerosene lamps and locked the place back up. Then, they called the neighbors and said they found nothing, but to call again if anything changes. However, the neighbors would call again to complain that the sounds started again and the lights are on from the blacksmith’s workshop. Everytime, the police can find no one there. 

There were other strange events in the workshop like the doors slamming shut on people who were inside when there’s no wind and no one outside. 

From there, we left the workshop and walked down the hill. I took some more photos on the way to a cabin by the stables where the next stop was. 

 The story here was about three Chickasaw sisters who owned property. They were arrested and sentenced to hang after authorities discovered three bodies at the bottom a well near their property. The bodies belonged to a pastor, a farmer who wanted the sisters’ land, and an estimator who tried to get the sisters to sell their home. As the story went, the sisters were found laughing to themselves with their hair in disarray and their clothes covered in blood. 

This was sometime after the Removal when many Indigenous people lost their land that was promised to them whether by being coerced to sell or the government takes it by force. The latter happened to my family who once owned land too. To this day, we could never get it back. 

During the story, I looked at the lanterns left along the trail behind me and saw these figures by them, but I consider them being the staff who was meant to stay behind everyone to make sure no one is lost. 

However, the blacksmith place further back had something and I’m certain everyone was together, even the staff who trailed behind us. 

I’m not sure if you can see the fight far back. There’s what looks like the silhouette of a person in that building. However, it could be part of the post office booth that’s at the back of the workshop. There were two chairs hung up against the back wall too. I tried to zoom in to show. 

But then, I look at this photo below which is the same place a few minutes later. I’m not sure if it’s really anything. 

We had to venture further down the field and more into the forest.  We heard the story of a soldier who decapitated another when he caught his wife with his victim. The soldier threw the head into a spring just behind the fort which led to an Irish soldier dying of fright when he stopped at the spring later for some water. The legend goes that a floating head lurks the grounds at night. 

The next stop was a bridge that leads to the Confederate cemetery. There are encounters of a transparent woman in period clothing who crosses the bridge late at night. Now, here is where there was one anomaly.  

There was a lantern hanging on the fence before the bridge next to a metal chair.  I should have taken a picture of it when I saw the lantern but didn’t think anything would happen. While everyone was paying attention to the story, it got darker. 

I look behind me to see the lantern on the fence went out. There is no wind, not even a breeze, and it’s difficult to blow out the flame in these lanterns. I took some pictures of that area to see if I can find anything unusual. The air got colder in that spot but there was nothing else extraordinary.

Now, the candle could have just burned out, so that is possible. 

I didn’t notice this on the walk, but the next two photos are of an area before the lantern was blown out. I notice something, but I don’t know if it’s an actual anomaly of something else.  It’s near the bottom on the left of the next picture.  I had to keep the flash off on my camera, so I have to keep it still for three seconds to get an image. That’s kind of hard to do when you have to keep up with the group. That may be the explanation. It could very well be a leaf, to be honest.

So, we went across the bridge and I didn’t see anything else, nor heard anything. There were times when I felt cold spots or a pressure on my chest, but I kept myself closed off to anyone or anything trying to form an attachment. 

The next stop was the cemetery where about 200 Confederate soldiers are buried in unmarked graves. I got some pictures of that place. 

Now, I don’t really like staying at the Confederate Cemetery for very long. I visited it in March and when I went into it, I had a horrible headache. It was like my head was being squeezed and it didn’t get better until I got away from it. I felt a bit headachy near it that night and when I tried to focus the camera for more pictures, it would blur and my head would hurt. I said I would stop and put my phone away. The headache stopped and my camera could focus again when I got away from there. 

The next few pictures of a longer walk to a cabin where the final story would be. I trailed further behind to get some pictures, but I could be on my own for too long of people would be looking for me. 

The next pictures are of the cabin. An older gentleman came out and he shared some encounters of the cabin where an officer and his family used to live before it was relocated to the fort’s grounds. The next man who had the cabin however, was an abusive men. Women who stayed at the cabin for reenactments would share their experiences of the door slamming, nightmares of a man beating them in their beds, and women having their clothes thrown about and feel their hair is being played with. They would always leave the next day and say they won’t come back. 

The storyteller said that he used to bring cub scouts there when he was a cubscout master, but the boys would be too scared to sleep at night. One boy said a man would keep staring at him from the window when no one was outside. Two boys couldn’t find their shoes which were later found on a bunk bed. 

The storyteller also remembers hearing horses racing down the roads, the sabers clinking and men calling to each other. When he was alone one evening, he watch six soldiers in old uniforms on their horses race down the road in front of the cabin, but when he asked around if there was an event, no one knew what he was talking about. 

The clock in the next picture was one that people say doesn’t work, but when the storyteller first stepped into the cabin, it chimed three times. 

The next pictures are of the cabin. There were two fake skeletons in there, but I wanted to show what it looks like an in case if you see anything. There were people who said they found faces in the candlelight or kerosene lamps through windows. That’s why I got some photos of the window. 

We went on a paved road in front of the cabin which led us back to the welcome center, and that’s where the tour ended. 

I can’t say I found anything confirmed paranormal or anything extreme, but it was still fun. I think I got some great pictures of the fort at night too. Most of all, I hope you enjoyed the stories and photos. I’ll come back again when I get the chance. 

Wanted to show a better picture of the lantern too. I thought they were neat and I wish I could keep one tbh. 

[ibijau]

Future Past pt17 / on AO3

After being dragged on a Night Hunt by Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen ponders the choices in front of him

“And that’s when Sect Leader Yao fell face first into the bog,” Nie Mingjue finished with a grin.

Lan Xichen, who had been fighting not to react for most of the story, burst out laughing so hard he had to stop walking, before quickly pressing one hand to his mouth in a vain effort to silence himself.

“There, I knew I hadn’t lost my touch,” Nie Mingjue said with an even wider grin, and Lan Xichen was nearly overcome with how much he’d missed him.

Of course he only had himself to blame for that. During the past year, Nie Mingjue had reached out to him several times, inviting Lan Xichen to spend a week or two in the Unclean Realm to flee his uncle’s students, or else suggesting they go on a Night Hunt together. But every time, Lan Xichen had found plenty of excuses to refuse. They were all good excuses, and he’d been busy with his regular duties, and the copying of the library, and…

And good or not, excuses were just excuses. The honest trust was that Lan Xichen had, in fact, been avoiding his best friend. The lingering shame from that horrible future had been too much to bear. How could he have faced Nie Mingjue, knowing he would have failed him someday, knowing he’d sided with his murderer, knowing he’d allowed his precious brother to turn into a monster? Horrified by the terrible friend he would have become, Lan Xichen had tried to distance himself from Nie Mingjue.

It hadn’t worked. Nie Mingjue had been patient with him, until one day he wasn’t, and just dropped by the Cloud Recesses unannounced, warned Lan Qiren that he was borrowing his nephew, and took Lan Xichen on a Night Hunt before anyone could protest. That had been the previous afternoon, and since then Nie Mingjue had been on a quest to make Lan Xichen laugh.

They’d just arrived at the location where a demon bear was causing trouble, and finally Nie Mingjue’s effort had been rewarded.

Now that he was laughing, Lan Xichen felt a little stupid for trying so hard to stay serious. Even if in his memories of the future Nie Mingjue had become an angry man too short tempered to have fun with, in the present he was the funniest person Lan Xichen knew.

The most forgiving, too, because he wasn’t even angry that Lan Xichen had pushed him away for an entire year.

“You’ve gotten too stern,” Nie Mingjue just said while Lan Xichen laughed. “I need to scold your uncle for making you work too much. I also need to steal you more often.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Lan Xichen replied, meaning it. He had been too serious since gaining those unwanted memories. Except for music lessons with Nie Huaisang, letters from Jiang Cheng, and a few chats with his brother, everything had felt dreary and stressful these last few months. “I’d wanted to act more maturely, but I suppose it’s important to have fun too.”

This prompted Nie Mingjue to make an annoyed noise.

“Huaisang told me the same thing last week,” he said in an aggravated tone. “That little brat…”

“I thought you wanted him to act more seriously?”

“I do, but not like that,” Nie Mingjue grumbled as he resumed walking. “He’s weird since he came back. First he ran off on his own, flying on his sabre…”

Lan Xichen winced. That hadn’t happened in his memory of another life. But at the same time, in that other life Nie Huaisang hadn’t gotten in nearly as much trouble, not during that first year in the Cloud Recesses at least. Lan Xichen couldn’t help feeling guilty about that, since it had to have been his fault for changing the normal course of events.

“Then when he comes back, he brings that orphan he found somewhere and demands that I let him join the sect!”

That was new as well.

“Did you agree?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Mingjue shrugged, and Lan Xichen had to bite his cheeks not to smile. So that was a yes. As expected, Nie Mingjue just didn’t know how to refuse his brother’s whims. It was comforting to know that this, at least, hadn’t changed.

“He’s obsessed with that kid,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Don’t know why. The boy is a damn pest, gets in fights all the time with everyone… but I guess he is clever, and he’s got potential. It’s just so weird to see Huaisang always asking about his progress. He’s never cared about any younger disciples before!”

“Maybe he brought you your future brother-in-law,” Lan Xichen teased.

“I don’t think so. The kid’s only about ten, I’d need to have a serious discussion with Huaisang if he was going after someone that young. Besides, doesn’t he already have a fling with that Lan disciple, what's his name… Su She, right?”

Hearing this, Lan Xichen’s good humour crumbled. Since Nie Huaisang had told him in Yunping City that there was nothing of the sort between himself and Su She, Lan Xichen had stopped thinking about it. But Nie Mingjue sounded quite sure of himself, so either Nie Huaisang had lied that time, or things had changed since then.

If so, Lan Xichen could only be happy for them, he supposed. After all he knew too well how loyal Su She could be toward those he cared about, and Nie Huaisang had passionately taken the defence of his friend on multiple occasions. They wouldn’t be the worst of matches, and if Lan Xichen felt any discomfort over that idea, it was only because of lingering memories of that future that would not be.

"Did I get it wrong?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen remained silent too long. "I've just never heard that brat talk like that about anyone. Since he came back, it's all 'Su-xiong said this' about everything, except when it's 'Xichen-gege said that', so I figured you might know something”

He paused for a moment, looking concerned. Lan Xichen glanced around, in case Nie Mingjue had heard a noise, or noticed anything about that demon bear they were after, but everything seemed quiet.

“That Su She, what sort of a person is he?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asked with a grim expression. “Huaisang really is enthusiastic about that boy, but he’s mentioned that his ‘Su-xiong’ has a temper, and… he failed the exams even though both you and your uncle wrote that he’s been studying a lot. It's almost like he did it on purpose. And he’s so nervous since he came back, but he won’t say why.”

“Su She is not a bad person,” Lan Xichen replied, and it still startled him that he meant it. Something of the man he would have become lingered in Lan Xichen that was still suspicious of what Su She would have done, but in the end it was unfair to judge him on something that hadn’t happened yet. “He’s not the most popular junior in the sect, but he’s hardworking and very dedicated to his friendship with Huaisang. If they do have that sort of relationship…”

He hesitated for a second. The idea remained startlingly unpleasant, but he refused to linger on that.

“If it’s like that, then I think Huaisang could do a lot worse.”

Tension immediately drained from Nie Mingjue’s body, who smiled at his friend.

“That’s a relief. I've been really… did you hear that?"

Lan Xichen gave one short nod, his hand resting on his sword. The cracking noise they'd both heard was followed by more, then a series of low grunts. 

The demon bear had been found. 

 -

 The Night Hunt went well, not that Lan Xichen ever doubted it. He vaguely recalled that even in the other future they’d hunted that demon bear, and though he hadn’t remembered the details, he knew it had gone very well over there too. 

With their job done, Nie Mingjue and him warned the local magistrate that the threat had been handled before heading to a local inn to eat and relax for a moment. They both had a lot of work waiting for them at home, but Night Hunting together was always a chance to escape that for a time, and to pretend they were just two ordinary young men as careless as others their age. They usually went to the site of the Night Hunt quickly, aware that lives might be at stake, and then took several days to come home, travelling together as far as they could before separating. It felt like a bit of innocent mischief, and Lan Xichen loved it. 

The inn they ended up in was pleasant enough, though Lan Xichen’s standards were not very high at that moment. As long as he was safe from the bitter winter cold, with some warm tea, and decent enough food, he was satisfied. Still, it was a pleasant bonus to discover that there was a musician at the inn that day, playing on his flute whatever songs people requested as long as they dropped a few coins. The man was decently skilled, and some of the songs were nice enough that Lan Xichen wouldn’t have minded learning them.

To Lan Xichen’s surprise, Nie Mingjue too was paying attention to the performer. It struck him as quite odd, since his friend had little taste for songs unless they were weapons to use in battle.

“If that melody is one you like, I can ask for its name and try to learn it,” Lan Xichen offered after a moment, a little excited for a chance to please his friend. “It would not be a problem.”

The suggestion startled Nie Mingjue who tore his eyes from the performer, and seemed a little embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“That’s very generous of you, but I was just… thinking about Huaisang,” he admitted. “He’s really obsessed with music lately. Even raided our library in search of pieces to learn. I’m trying to understand what’s so great about that. At least with painting I can see if it’s good or not, and his birds force him to be responsible, but music… I’m really out of my depth with that, and I hate that I don’t know how to support him.”

Nie Mingjue sighed, as if it truly wounded him that his brother would have a passion so foreign to his own interests. Perhaps it did. Lan Xichen, whose tastes were so similar to his brother’s in most things, couldn’t imagine what it would be like to love so much someone so different from one’s self.

"Is he actually any good?” Nie Mingjue then asked. “he sounds great to me, but that's not saying much. Every musician sounds good to me. But some of the elders have said they're impressed by his skill, and said they’d like him to play sometimes when we have guests to entertain. They might just be polite." 

"Did he borrow a guqin from someone to continue practicing?" Lan Xichen asked, still surprised by the enthusiasm Nie Huaisang showed for music.

"Worse, he bought his own," Nie Mingjue explained, rolling his eyes. "That brat! He used up half his allowance for the year on that. I’ve warned him not to beg for money in six months when he has nothing to use for his trips to Gusu, he needs to learn not to overspend like that."

Lan Xichen froze, and for a second nearly fell into breathless panic. It was a stupid thing to worry about, compared to everything else he had changed, but… 

But in that other life too he'd gone on that Night Hunt with Nie Mingjue, who had then complained that his brother had spent a fortune on a series of exquisite fans, and even had made the same threat about not giving him more funds (which he still had done when Nie Huaisang had written to beg for money down the line). It had been the starting point of Nie Huaisang's collection, a collection that he'd continued working on for the rest of his life, no matter what else changed. 

Even that very last time Lan Xichen had met Nie Huaisang in that other life, after every lie had been revealed, even as he spilled all of his hatred for a man he'd grown to despise, Nie Huaisang had been flaunting a brand new fan, painted by a famous artist. 

Fans had appeared to be Nie Huaisang’s last joy left after he'd lost everything else, and if Lan Xichen had taken that from him… 

"You know," Nie Mingjue said, "whether he's good or not, I'm grateful you decided to teach him. He's so damn nervous all the time these days, but playing seems to calm him. So I was wondering if you might continue with the lessons?”

“Really?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged with affected indifference. 

“If that brat is finally interested in something I can pretend is related to cultivation… " he grumbled." I’m not asking you to teach him any Lan songs," he quickly added," but I wouldn’t mind if some of our elders thought that. If you have time, of course. It’s gonna be a rough year for you, with the students you have coming this time."

Lan Xichen wrinkled his nose at the thought. The year promised to be intense indeed. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about that Wei Wuxian person who would play such a role in his brother's life, sometimes for the better, often for the worse. In his memories of the future, the man he’d become had eventually accepted that Wei Wuxian was Lan Wangji’s true love, sharing with him a bond so strong that not even death had severed it. 

But Lan Xichen as he currently was couldn’t help thinking about all the pain and hardship that love had cost his brother, and he wasn’t sure if that was quite worth it. For all that he’d supported the acquaintance when it had started in that other life, Lan Xichen now wanted to prevent his brother from falling in love with that person. Surely it would be better if Lan Wangji didn't suffer like that. 

“I don’t mind continuing the lessons,” Lan Xichen said, who had already been planning for that anyway. “He’s quite good, and he actually could learn some of our songs, if he set his mind to it. Besides, he’s good company, we’ve had some good fun.”

Not to mention Nie Huaisang might be able to help with whatever Lan Xichen decided to do regarding Wei Wuxian, since they would become good friends. He might give a hand in preventing Lan Wangji from meeting that boy, or give a hint in the right direction if Lan Xichen decide to help that little romance.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me then,” Nie Mingjue replied dryly. “A prettier friend who makes you laugh and calls you cute nicknames… I'm ditched so easily. Truly tragic.”

It was a joke. 

Having been friends with him for this many years, Lan Xichen knew how Nie Mingjue joked, as deadpan as his brother was dramatic, but this time the teasing hit a little too close to home. Lan Xichen hurriedly grabbed his friend’s hands and squeezed them tight. For a moment he found himself fighting to breathe, for which Nie Mingjue threw him a concerned look.

“I would never betray you,” Lan Xichen managed to wheeze out. “I swear! You… You are my friend, the person I trust the most, the person who knows me best. I would never choose someone else over you!”

Not again, anyway.

Not while knowing what the cost of it might be.

Of course even in that other future he’d thought he’d been acting for Nie Mingjue’s good. He’d thought he was helping. He had trusted Jin Guangyao's sweet words, trusted the power of Cleansing, trusted… 

Nie Mingjue freed one of his hands, and leaned closer to rub circles on Lan Xichen's back, encouraging him to breathe. It was Lan Xichen's worst attack since the night he awoke with memories not quite his own. Panic and guilt mixed together, closing his throat tighter so no air could get to his lungs. It lasted long enough that Lan Xichen wondered if it might be possible for him to die like this. 

Just as soon as that idea hit him, his body's desperate need for air became stronger than the power of his memories, and he was able to take one shaky breath. He gasped and coughed, all too aware of the eyes of other patrons on him, while Nie Mingjue continued rubbing his back. 

"Wipe your face," Nie Mingjue gently ordered when his friend had calmed down, handing him a napkin. "Do you need to go out for some fresh air, or do you prefer to sit?" 

"Sit," Lan Xichen replied in a raspy voice as he dried his tears. "Sorry. It happens sometimes. It looks worse than it is."

Nie Mingjue said nothing. A fresh pot of tea was ordered, which soothed Lan Xichen's poor throat and warmed him up again. He still felt a little fragile, but put on a smile to hide it. This, in turn, only made Nie Mingjue frown. 

"Your uncle told me he was worried about your health when I saw him some weeks ago, but I didn't realise it was this bad."

"My health is fine," Lan Xichen protested. After one sharp look from his friend, he continued: "It really isn't that bad. I've been a little anxious, that's all. It's hard not to be in the current climate." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Haven't the Wen just absorbed another sect?" 

Nie Mingjue grimly nodded. The leader of a sect had just died, and Wen Ruohan had promptly married his youngest son to the man's daughter and claimed the whole sect. It was not something they could openly discuss, but the issue was serious and should have distracted Nie Mingjue from the panic attack he'd witnessed. 

It did not quite work. 

"Your uncle too mentioned something about that when I saw him. He used to be pretty sure nothing would happen, but lately he's been keeping me updated on that sort of news." 

Lan Xichen hesitated. His plan regarding the war, so far, had been to stay out of things. The Sunshot campaign appeared to him like a terrible thing that could not, should not be avoided, like a great fire that would allow for a healthier regrowth. Perhaps he might have hoped to lessen the damage, but ultimately nothing less than a war could rid them of Wen Ruohan. 

That plan to allow for the war to unfold naturally was countered by two things. 

The first was that Lan Xichen had already changed the way it would happen. If everything went as he hoped, Meng Yao would never become a spy amidst the Wens, something which had been crucial to their victory (or something that had appeared to be so to the man Lan Xichen had become; he was ever so fond of that Meng Yao, perhaps the memories of that dark future were tainted by that). It was after all unlikely that the Jiangs would ever give Meng Yao any help to join Lanling Jin, his first step toward spying on Wen Ruohan… and that was supposing Meng Yao even survived long enough to take part in the war, when most of Yunmeng Jiang was fated to be slaughtered.

And this was the second issue with Lan Xichen’s initial plan. He had, from the start, been uncomfortable with allowing the slaughter of the Lotus Pier to happen, even when it would someday become agreed that nothing less than this attack on a Great Sect could have convinced the cultivation world to finally rebel against the Wens. But just because people in the future found ways to justify that disaster didn’t make it right to do nothing to avoid it. Lan Xichen was taking measures to protect his sect, wasn’t it his responsibility to also help others?

Having been cursed with that knowledge, wasn’t it his duty to…

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue said, his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder once more. “Slowly, breathe in, breathe out. There you go.”

Lan Xichen obeyed, and managed to avoid another attack, though only narrowly, and only because the fear of the Sunshot Campaign was his alone. The man he would have become had made his peace with the horror witnessed during that time, but Lan Xichen himself was overcome by terror every time he thought about what was to come.

It was a burden too heavy for his shoulders alone, and he alone couldn’t have done much to prevent that dark future from coming to pass, at least where that war was concerned.

So perhaps he needed to not do it alone. What good had secrets done to Jin Guangyao, to Nie Huaisang, in that future that would not be? It had turned them into monsters, bitter and too willing to hurt others, and for what? Jin Guangyao had lost everything, Nie Huaisang had become isolated from everyone who had ever cared about him, and all just because they wanted to be in control, because they thought nobody around them was worthy of being told the truth.

Lan Xichen refused to become like them

“Mingjue-xiong, do you trust me?” he asked when he had calmed down again, and breathing wasn’t such a struggle.

“You wouldn’t be my friend if I didn’t trust you,” came the answer, honest and earnest and so painful that Lan Xichen thought panic would seize him again over that underserved trust.

But this time he managed to keep his calm, either because he was too exhausted to panic again, or because his mind saw this as a chance to right some of the wrong he would have caused in the future.

“I have something to tell you,” Lan Xichen said as he stood up. “But we’ll need to be somewhere more private. It’s going to sound completely crazy to you, but… you need to know.”

Nie Mingjue looked worried but quietly stood up as well. They left the inn together and took flight, making their sword rise high in the sky, where no one might spy on them without their notice.

“So, here is what happened,” Lan Xichen explained when he felt he could do it safely. “Around this time last year, I had a vision…”

He wouldn’t, couldn’t say everything, because it would have been too cruel to plague Nie Mingjue with the knowledge of his own early death, to tell him how loss and rage would turn his beloved brother into a man he might have despised. But the rest, the Wen’s exactions, the war that loomed over them… this Lan Xichen shared with more details than he’d ever given to Lan Qiren. Nie Mingjue listened, first with astonishment, then with concern, eventually with anger. 

"Are you sure?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen had finished a quick tale of what was to come. 

"I know it's odd, and I won't blame you if you find it impossible to believe." 

Nie Mingjue did not reply right away, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 

"You've already had proof, and you're sure of it. That's good enough for me. Now let's find a quiet place to talk about this. I'll need you to tell me everything you remember about the Wen's forces, so I can start preparing." 

Lan Xichen felt breathless again, but this time it was gratitude overwhelming him. He'd forgotten how good Nie Mingjue was. Those last few months had spoiled so much, souring old memories, but there had been such great times before that. There would be even more, in this new life, this new chance they'd been given. 

This time, he swore to himself, he would be worthy of that affection.

[spoonyglitteraunt]

Good grief they just can't leave well enough alone can they? I don't generally bother to react to these posts about idiot changes, knowing they don't read this stuff anyway but this one just asks for it.

Who (and it's a rhetorical who because we all know who) thought it a great idea to decide they're going to add the one thing almost all of us are here to escape? Because prizes for them for misreading the room. It's just a complete and utter disconnect from and disregard for the users. Which isn't novel but still annoying in its boring predictability. It's the tried and true failure of a method of prioritising number of signups over longevity. We've seen it time and time again what damage this does to communities and sites as a whole, but lessons are never learned.

New users mean nothing if you can't turn them into longtime ones. And if your current longtime users get alienated and repelled, who will keep providing the 'content' you so crave to use as bait for the hypothetical new ones?

Like, sure. Make the site easier to watch logged out. Improve the search that we've been told was impossible to fix over and over. We'd love to see that magic trick. But don't think we are naive enough not to understand what you're really after. To know how hard this site is or isn't to use. We live here. And most of us have enough experience with being talked down to to know it when we see it.

Algorithms and changing core elements of how conversations happen here is not for our benefit. Or even those of the supposed potential new users. It's one thing and one thing only.

Marketability.

Just like discord changing its username system was not an inevitable force of nature they could do nothing about but implement. Or to help the poor confused new users. Just like reddit cutting api support was not for site stability. Or about the pitiable confused new users. This too is once again not about the lamentable confused new users.

It's a show to investor to go look, we too got the hot new coolness wrecking ALL the sites. We too can fit in the one size fits none cookie cutter model that doesn't make the girlies investors run for the hills screaming. Because anything even slightly different makes them nervously clutch their virtual check books.

And I get it. Site need make money to exist. But you know what makes site not exist even quicker? All those people who currently were paying and buying stop doing so. Half the reason things like the checkmarks work (and you know this or else you wouldn't merchandise it) is exactly because it mocks the sites we hate. Sites you are now trying to emulate.

But no one is going to come here for the new twitter experience. They'll go to privacy hell threads for that instead. No amount of slapping paint on the walls and going hello fellow kids is going to make you appeal to them. No matter how hard you break the site. It's your uniqueness and functionality reminiscent of older ways thay has kept you your current users and attracted those fleeing reddit and twitter hell. As evidenced by the numerous threads going around about people finding it a breath of fresh air to not suddenly not be algorithms' bitch.

You should lean into that not change the one thing going for you. The one thing that makes you irreplaceable by a hundred carbon copies.

So sure. If this really is what you say it is about, build a site welcome tutorial. Explain the features and help them set up quickly and easily. Have extensive help documentation that's easy to find. Make the dash even more easy to sort and curate by maybe finally not hiding the notifications dash and building that out more. Improve the search and the for you page if you must. Which is your beloved algorithm right there, if you so desire the sweet embrace of lack of choice. But leave it optional and let the actual users, not those dreamt up by the capitalist number go up graphs, alone. We don't need the algorithm to hold our hands. People are not as helpless and confused as corporate speak likes to pretend.

Nothing good ever comes from breaking those who stuck by you all this time. Don't mistake our decision to remain as an inability to leave.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

But Baby Bird

Cheating!Hawks x Reader 

Warning - Cheating! Toxic ass behavior. 

Summary - You catch Hawks cheating on you - and you decide to take him down a peg

Apparently cheating Hawks is a trend right now? And like I’m down... But in my way. Also listen to the glee version of Bust your windows and it 100% fueled this.

Today was a normal day for you. You got off at work, went to pick up something for dinner, and headed home for the night. Work had been stressful. All the heroes at your agency seemed to need a hundred things. And running the behind the scenes of the agency was already hard enough. So you were longing to be home. In the arms of your fiancé. He’s always great with helping you recover from a bad day. 

As you walk into the penthouse you notice a distinct lack of Hawks. Normally he greats you at the door- a drink and hand and a sweet kiss. However he was no where to be found. You don’t think too much on it. You’ve been at the office extra late the last couple weeks and with his hero work you know it brings natural conflicts in your schedules. However the pros boots at the door reveal he’s here. Still he could be asleep. He is one for laying around in his free time. 

“Hawks baby?” You call “I’ve got us dinner.” 

He doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes setting down the takeout bag on the kitchen counter. Starting to set it up. Knowing he’d be grateful to wake up to the meal. You move to grab some paper towels only to catch site of two wineglasses in the sink.

“The fact he can’t just reuse a dish-” You groan lightly.

“Baby bird-” You hear a distant groan. You move looking down the hall to the bedroom. “Oh Baby Bird.”

“He couldn’t fucking wait for me,” You growl, “what a tool.” You move marching towards the bedroom. Clearly annoyed that your boyfriend started with out you. ”Hawks I’m sure I’m better than your hand-”

The scene in front of you isn’t that of catching your partner jerking it off... No instead it’s Hawks balls deep in on of the interns from his agency.

“No fucking way,” You say harshly. Hawk looks over at you. Eyes wide. Guilt filling his expression.

“Love Bird-” Hawks start pulling away from the girl. The intern moving to grab the blankets from your bed to cover herself. Hawks standing and pulling his boxers from the ground as you stared at the scene. 

The emotions flooding over you weren’t deafening. The anger. The sadness. The helplessness. The shock. All blending into an overwhelming mess. You just walked in on your fiancé fucking his intern. The man everyone warned you about proving their point. 

For a moment you don’t do anything. Then you just start to laugh.

“This isn’t- let me jus explain.”

“Explain what?” You ask him laughing lightly, “that you’re fucking some bimbo from your office?”

“Y/n-”

“Fuck off Keigo,” You say harshly, “I’m done. I hope you and your little slut over there have fun...” 

“Babe-” 

You pull away harshly. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” You spit back. 

You left. Wanting to be anywhere but there. So you ended up over at Rumi’s. Your friend giving you the usual break up kit. The pajama, ice cream. The whole nine yards. She tried to cheer you up as you sobbed. You wanted to understand why the hell he’d do that. Why he’d risk your relationship of 4 years all for a girl who’s barely legal. You wonder how long he’s been letting this happen? If she’s the only girl?

“Fuck Keigo,” Rumi says harshly.

“I tried that- didn’t work out so well in the end,” You say slightly amused. She laughs lightly.

“That’s the spirit babe,” She says, “he sucks- but he’s a learning exprience. Now you can go find a guy who treats you right-”

“Or I can burn his apartment down,” You say harshly.

“That’s an option,” She says, “I’m sure you’re dad will love that one. Mr. Hero Commission watching his sweet daughter burn her fiancé’s house to the ground.”

“You think he’d let that get out?” You ask her slightly amused, “man would have that covered up in a heart beat.”

“Well as much as I love the arson- let’s think smaller,” Rumi says, “like moving on... Show him what he lost.... And he lost the hottest bitch he’ll ever see.” You chuckle through the light tears. Moving to wipe them away. “Now no tears- pretty bitches down cry over fuck boys.” I laugh lightly. “Step one to cheering up is get under some hot guy- how’s Zawa sounding?”

“As much as I’d love to tread that wave of daddy issues- I can’t even think about that right now,” You say sadly, “Hawks and I were supposed to get married! I spent our entire relationship defending him from people telling me it would end up this way. I feel stupid.”

“That’s not your fault,” Rumi says, “you love him... Besides you aren’t the only girl who’s ever gotten hurt this way... Heroes fucking suck. Whores... All of them. They’ll stick it in anything that has a pulse- and even that’s not stopping them sometimes.”

“Ew,” You chuckle sadly. She starts to laugh. 

“Bird man sucks- and you deserve so much more,” She tells you, “I promise you that this will only bring you closer to the guy who’s gonna treat you right.”

“Thanks Rumi,” You tell her. She moves pulling you into a hug.

“Any time song bird,” She says. When she pulls back she gives you a firm look. “Now go to bed- we’ve got moving out to do tomorrow.”

“Fine,” You tell her. 

You try to head to sleep. You really do. But you barely get a wink when the sun starts shining through the large windows in Rumi’s living room. Outside you can hear birds chirping. The sound fills you to your core with anger. Stupid birds... Stupid Hawks. You toss a shoe at the window. The birds immediately flee. 

“I know the man with wings fuck you over but don’t take it out on the birds,” Rumi says chuckling lightly. You look back to see her in the kitchen. She’s in her hero costume. Her bunny ears standing tall. “Morning song bird.”

“Ew” You groan, “I don’t want to hear that nickname ever again.”

“Oh come on I called you that before he who shall not be named ever did,” Rumi says, “your mother gave you that nickname. Don’t let him ruin it.”

“Too late,” You say as you stand from the couch. Moving over to grab a cup of coffee. Rumi rolls her eyes lightly at your comment. “I’m going to get my stuff- you still gonna be able to do that?”

“Sorry Y/n I got called in for patrols if you wanna wait here-”

“No I’m gonna go get a head start,” You tell her, “It’ll go faster that way anyways. You got any boxes?”

“No but Aizawa does- and he’s meeting us at yours to help move your stuff,” She says, “I’m giving you another chance to fuck him.” You roll your eyes roughly. “Come on! He’s hot- and before Hawks you would of killed to get under that man.”

“There was a lot I’d do pre hawks - but a lot of thats changed,” You tell her, “so I guess I’ll meet you there?” 

She heads out for work. And you go through the basics of getting ready. You had called your boss to tell them you needed the day for a family emergency. This was kinda a emergency. Honestly you just couldn’t handle needing to run around for everyone else after all of that.

The penthouse isn’t too far from Rumi’s house. It’s a ten minute taxi ride. You stand out in front of the door for a minute. Anger slowly filling you as your mind replays the events of last night. You shove it away and finally open the door. The light of the morning reveals what you didn’t notice last night. Napkins with lipstick on the table. A few spare feathers on the couch. Small signs of the build up. You scoff loudly. Marching back to your room. You’re thankful that the intern isn’t there. Even more thankful Hawks isn’t. You start in the closet first. Grabbing your clothes in armfuls and tossing them onto the floor of the bedroom. Next you move to the dresser. Pulling the drawers out to dump your belongings out. You can hear the soft moans fill your ears on repeat. Keigo calling her baby bird. Something he’s called you a million times. You growl lightly. Trying to focus on getting your things. As your grabbing the picture of you and your late mother you notice a picture of you and Keigo the night he proposed. You were so happy. He promised it would be you two for the rest of you life. You move grabbing the frame. You don’t even know why. But it doesn’t stay in your hands long. In a split second your slamming it against the wall. Then you move tossing the other ones of you and Keigo on the floor. Glass is everywhere. You don’t care. You rip the frames off the wall letting them smash as well. 

You calm down a bit. Moving to the bathroom to grab your stuff. However you catch yourself in the reflection. Smirking lightly as you catch the tube of lipstick on the counter. You uncap it and lean forward. Writing the word ‘Cheater’ across the glass in large red letters. Satisfied you toss the lipstick in your makeup bag then grab it to move it with the rest of your stuff. Next you move into the office. More pictures in frames around the room. You pull the down tossing them at the wall. Not caring about the scattering glass or the memories your destroying. You grab one of the markers from your desk to keep up with the redecoration. Scribbling ‘Whore’ ‘Player’ and other insults across the wall. You don’t care about what your doing. All you care about is the inconvence he’ll have cleaning this all up. 

You move dragging the marker along the walls as you head out to the kitchen. Opening the shelves to toss plates and bowls on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You turn to see Keigo. He seems to be just walking in. He’s got his costume on. You smirk lightly as you drop a stack of plates on the ground. “Oops.”

“Y/n what the hell?!”

“You don’t like the redecoration? That’s a shame,” You say.

“Are you still mad?” 

You don’t answer. Instead you let the teapot you toss at his head answer for you. He barely ducks it.

“Listen what happened-”

You move throwing a mug at him. He steps out of the way and it smacks the floor behind him.

“It was an accident.”

“You accidentally fucked her?” You ask harshly, “oh that’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“I meant it was a mistake- I messed up.”

“Oh shut the fuck up Keigo,” You growl, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“We need to talk about this- like adults not throw a tantrum!”

You angrily toss the toaster at him. He smacks it away from him. 

“You’re acting like a child!”

“You cheated on me!” You shout, “don’t give me that acting like a child shit.”

“I’m trying to talk to you and you’re throwing shit- so yeah you’re acting like a child,” He shouts back.

“Fine Keigo - what’s you’re excuse?” You ask him, “what lead you to this mistake?”

“You’re never around and I felt so alone-”

You don’t let him finish. You’re tossing the silverware drawer at him.

“You’re blaming you fucking your intern on me!” You scream, “oh my fucking god! You’re a joke.”

“Let me explain-”

“I- don’t- want- to - hear - it!” You scream in between tossing wine glasses at him. You’ve made a terrible mess of your kitchen. You couldn’t care less though. All you can think about is Keigo standing in front of you trying to blame him cheating all on you.  

“Stop throwing shit!”

“Keep your dick in your pants!” You scream back.

“Did this little tantrum make you feel better?”

“No!” You scream, “you broke my heart Keigo! You cheated on me! I can’t believe you don’t understand why I’m so upset-”

“I’m trying to explain-”

“You’re trying to blame me!”

“Just let me talk!”

“No!” I scream, “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear your stupid reason!”

“Baby bird I love you-”

“HOW DARE YOU CALM ME WHAT YOU CALLED HER!” I scream on the top of my lungs. Anger radiating off of me. “You stupid- fucking- asshole!” More of the kitchenware goes flying. He’s dodging them. Mumbling explanations. You stop. Laughing lightly. He watches you clearly confused. You grab the lamp from the table and toss it straight into the middle of the TV.

“Babe oh my god!”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m done! I’m done letting you walk all over me! Defending you when you clearly don’t deserve it! And I’m done trying to love you when you clearly don’t love me!”

You yank the ring off your finger and toss it at him.

“We’re done.” I say firmly. He looks at me. Tears starting to well in his eyes. Suddenly the anger fades. You just felt numb. Over it all.

“Hey Y/n- Oh my god.” 

You see Rumi and Shota at the door. Looking over the disaster of an apartment. Concern covering their faces.

“Are you okay?” Shota asks, “did he hurt you?”

You chuckle lightly.

“You think he did this?” You ask him, “I’m fine- Let’s get my shit and go... I don’t want to be here for another second.” You move past Hawks over to your friends. 

“But Baby Bird,” Hawks says lightly. You look back to the man. 

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat-” You tell him, “see ya Bird Man.”

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Dragon Queen

Chapter 10: Long Live The Queen

Summary: Your family finally gets their happy ending.

Notes: Thank you all for joining me on my Blood of the Dragon series! Not sure if there will be a part 3, so for now I will keep the series as incomplete on AO3.

Just when you thought your nerves were at their highest point during momentous events in your life, your body proves you wrong. The day had finally come for your coronation and you couldn’t even believe that this is where your life had lead you.

When you were a little girl - long before the X-Gene reared its ugly head - you had a basic idea of how your life was going to go. There had been a career you had picked (even if it wasn’t a realistic one at the age of seven), a place you wanted to live, and how you wanted a princess wedding (you blamed all those Disney movies you had grown up on). But then your life took a turn for the worst when your eyes slowly turned red. And then the nubs for your wings began to push through. Before at last, your tail bone extended outward into an actual tail. That’s when your parents dumped you on the street before the rest of your physical changes could take place.

And now....now you were looking at becoming Queen of New Asgard. You were a former Avenger and Thor’s wife. If only your parents could see you now.

Well, they had tried to, anyway. And it went as well as one could imagine. You don’t even know how they found you. It was shortly before you were pregnant before Thor had even thought of marrying you. Both of you were taking vacation time from the Avengers in Iceland, visiting sites from the show that had been made from the books you and Thor had bonded over. 

The ice-covered lands had been beautiful and your naturally high body heat kept you warm even during the snowstorms. Thor looked so handsome covered in fur from an animal that had roamed his home planet. Both of you dining out on a patio of a local establishment, the wine flowing and laughter filling the air. Until two people who looked vaguely familiar came running up to your table.

“____! There you are! We have looked everywhere for you!” The woman cried, though, her tears didn’t seem genuine. 

The man smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes and seemed rather creepy. “You’ve grown into such a fine young woman. Just look at those wings! Who knew they would get so big?”

You shrank back in your chair when the woman tried to hug you and Thor got in between.

“Forgive us, but do we know you?”

“Oh, you must be Thor!” The man went to shake his hand, but Thor just crossed his arms. “Uh, we’re ___ parents. And we’ve missed her so much!”

Your eyes had gone wide at these words, instantly recognizing the pair in front of Thor. Of course, you saw it now. The woman had your eyes before they had changed. The man your color of hair. Both carried themselves in a similar manner. But there was something off. The woman couldn’t look at your eyes, choosing to focus on your nose so it still looked like she was looking you in the face. The man kept his eyes on your wings, only occasionally sparing a glance at Thor.

“Her parents?” Thor’s voice became colder with each word. “The very ones that threw her out into the street when she was only a child? That left her to be scooped up by Hydra and used as a weapon? All because she couldn’t control that she was a mutant?!”

The woman backed up to her husband, her eyes now on Thor. “That’s no way to speak to us! We are her parents.”

You finally found your voice. “I don’t have any parents. Any ones I did have, lost the right to call themselves as such the moments they refused to act as such.”

Your dad tried to take a firm voice with you. “Now, ____. That’s no way to speak to us. We have been worried sick.”

“Have you?!” You rose to your feet and your wings spread out slightly behind you. “Because the last I remember was you-” you pointed at your father “tossing me into the street while you-” now you gestured at your mother “screamed that such an abomination would not be allowed under your roof. So as far as I’m concerned, my direct family consists of Thor and Loki, of the Avengers, and the X-Men. Those who stood by my side, who saw past my mutation. You only come to me now as I have risen above my past and become a hero. I will not let you back in just so you can use me for my fame.”

“A hero?” Your father sneered. “You just found a place with other freaks.”

“ENOUGH.” Thor’s words carried over the restaurant and now everyone was focused on your table. “You will leave my presence now and never try to contact ____ again.”

As if to emphasize his words, lightning crashed behind him. Your parents took one last look at you, before fleeing for their lives. That night, old wounds had been ripped open and Thor did his best to comfort you.

That night, you knew without a doubt that Thor Odinson was the one for you.

And now, here you were, married to him and a mother of his twins. Awaiting your coronation to become queen of his people. It was better than any childhood dream.

“Are you almost ready, my love?” Thor poked his head into the room, seeing you struggle to zip up your dress.

“Almost….got...it,” you grunted as you tried to reach around your wings.

“Here, allow me.” Thor reached over and zipped the dress up with ease.

You turned around to plant a kiss on your husband. “Thank you, my love. Are the twins ready?”

“Ready and playing with Loki.”

“I hope not with his daggers again.”

“No, he promised no more of those until they were old enough to learn proper safety.”

“Somehow that doesn’t put my mind at ease.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So? How do I look?”

Thor took in the floor-length gown that was deep red with black lace over the bodice and bell, matching your wings and eyes. Your tail twitched nervously behind you.

“You look amazing as always, my Queen.”

“I’m no queen.”

“Not yet. Just a couple more hours.”

And that brought back your nerves. “Are you sure about this? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Thor chuckled as he kissed the top of your head. “You will do fine, I promise.”

While you tried to always believe Thor when he showered you with compliments and praise, it was still hard to believe you were the best choice for queen. Soon, Thor left to see to the ceremony and you paced your room as you waited.

Hilde poked her head in. “Hey, your grace.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Very professional.”

“Eh, I’ll save it for after the ceremony.”

“Save it for public appearances only,” you laughed again.

“So….should I even ask if you are ready?” Your face fell and Hilde instantly ran up to hug you. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’ll do great!”

“I just worry that-”

Hilde pulled away so she could look you in the face. “If you’re about to say you’re not worthy of Thor or being a queen, I will literally shake the sense into you.”

That made you laugh once more and you hugged her again. “Thanks, Hilde. I guess then I am ready.”

She called a few guards to make a formation around you as you began your long walk to the throne room. And just like Thor’s coronation, your wedding, and the announcement of your twins, your makeshift family of the Avengers and the X-Men were there to watch your new chapter in your life. To support you as they had when they first freed you from Hydra.

The only faces to be missing were your parents and there would never be a moment in your life where you truly would miss them. Need them. Love them. 

Next to the dais, Loki held your son while Helena cradled your daughter. Taking a deep breath, you slowly climbed up the steps to the thrones and stood next to Thor, who looked breathtaking in his armor and red cape. 

You turned to face the audience, your wings pulled back and your tail draped to line around the edge of your skirt. Smiles across the room greeted you. Thor stepped up next to you before addressing the crowd.

“Nearly seven years ago, the Avengers were called upon to stop a dangerous weapon that Hydra control. It was soon obvious that the truth was worse than that. That Hydra really had a powerful prisoner. Over time I was lucky enough to earn that person’s trust, setting her free from her prison. We fell in love, got engaged, and she gave me two beautiful children. We have had our fair share of ups and downs, and there is no one I would have by my side than her. My fellow Avenger. My wife. My Dragon Queen.”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Thor moved to placed a silver crown atop your head, then moved to stand by your side. As you both held hands, you couldn’t help the tears that came to your eyes.

No, this wasn’t the fairytale life you had pictured when you were a child. This was far better.

Tagging Crew:

Everything

@marvelfansworld​

@that-chick212​

@keetnerj01​

Dragon Queen

@animegirlgeeky​

@profoundtyrantharmony​

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt 14

hi everyone!! i hope you’re doing super well :) thank you so much for reading rotations and for sending me so many kind words!! you all mean the world to me and i rlly mean that bc i am a very emotional person hehe

pt 1

pt 13

pt 15

There were enough rooms in the house for everyone to have their own and, out of habit, (Y/N) picked the room that had once been hers whenever she stayed with the royal family. It was eerie how little it had changed. It was like it had been frozen in time since she had been eleven. Half-finished letters to her friends on the mainland remained on the desk, their scrolls crinkled at the edges with age. An old painting of her and Zuko hung at her bedside. She took it down immediately and shoved it into a desk drawer. 

“This place is amazing!” Sokka yelled as he ran up the steps of the beach house. After being attacked by Azula and being forced to flee the Western Air Temple, at Zuko’s suggestion, the group decided to fly to Ember Island to hide in plain site among the Fire Nation. On their way there, Zuko and Katara had gone on a separate mission to track down the man that killed her mother. While (Y/N) understood the necessity of Katara finding closure, she disapproved of her doing it with Zuko. She especially disapproved of how friendly the two seemed when they returned. Katara had always been her confidant in disliking Zuko and it seemed he had won her over, too. 

(Y/N) stopped at the end of the stone path, looking up at the ornate designs carved into the wood that symbolized to who this house belonged. The last time she had been here was years ago, but it felt like it was a lifetime away. So much had changed since then. 

Katara nudged her shoulder with her own. “Everything okay?” She asked, a small smile etching into her features. (Y/N) pursed her lips. Katara was the first person that she had ever told the full story of her past. She remembered choking on her words a lot because she was unable to find the happiness in her once good memories. Now that they were back on Ember Island, it was like everything was flooding back to her at once. 

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, but it was just a second too late to convince Katara that she was being honest. “Being back here just weirds me out.” 

Everyone had once again changed back into their Fire Nation clothes and while (Y/N) was comfortable, she felt completely exposed. Like anyone could recognize her at any moment. She had to keep reminding herself that it had been years since these people had seen her. 

There were enough rooms in the house for everyone to have their own and, out of habit, (Y/N) picked the room that had once been hers whenever she stayed with the royal family. It was eerie how little it had changed. It was like it had been frozen in time since she had been eleven. Half-finished letters to her friends on the mainland remained on the desk, their scrolls crinkled at the edges with age. An old painting of her and Zuko hung at her bedside. She took it down immediately and shoved it into a desk drawer. 

She dropped her bag and began taking the sheets off the bed so she could wash them. A flash outside of her door caught her eye and she leaned back to see what it was. In the room across the hall, Zuko was hanging clothes in his wardrobe. She tensed. How could she have forgotten that their rooms had been across from one another? It would be doubly difficult to avoid him now. 

She tried to talk to Zuko as little as possible if it could be avoided. It made her upset, seeing that all of her friends were gradually becoming more friendly with him. She had been happy before he had entered their group and she would be happy again once he went away. All she had to do was wait it out. 

Quickly, she gathered her bedsheets into a bundle and darted out of her door, down the hall, and down the stairs, where Katara had already set up buckets of water and soap to wash their clothes. She silently sat down beside her friend and began scrubbing. 

“You’re gonna rub a hole into those if you keep scrubbing so hard.” She looked up to see Katara raising an eyebrow at her. 

“These haven’t been used in years, I just want them to be clean.” In reality, she wanted to scrub those sheets free of the long, sleepless nights she had spent thinking about her future with Zuko. 

“I’m surprised that Zuko wanted to come back here,” Katara said in an effort to start a conversation with him. “The last time he was here, he was with Azula and those two girls.” 

“Mai and Ty Lee.” 

“You knew them?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“I went to school with them. They were all a grade below me. Ty Lee ran away and joined the circus and Mai had the biggest crush on Zuko.” She frowned and Katara must have noticed it, because her friend giggled. “What?” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Why would I be jealous? Zuko can date anyone he wants. I don’t care.” Katara hummed knowingly and (Y/N) splashed her with soapy water. It irritated her that friends were always trying to act like they knew something she didn’t. 

After they had finished doing laundry and eating lunch, the entire group wanted to sit on the back steps of the house to enjoy the nice weather. Despite being in the Fire Nation, Ember Island was beautiful and its weather was almost always temperate. Everyone besides Aang and Zuko sat while the two boys practiced their firebending. Aang was getting better with each passing day, but (Y/N) noticed he was still holding back. With firebending, you have to give it your all, or else your flames would be weak. She told him this as he ran back to the steps for a water break. 

“I want to be able to be in control of my fire,” he said. He glanced over at Katara, who looked away. She knew he still blamed himself for accidentally burning her. 

“You can be in control and still put your whole being behind it. Firebenders attack with their whole self, because we have fire inside of us. You have it too, you just need to let it out.” 

“(Y/N) knows what she’s talking about,” Zuko said. “She was one of the best prodigies back in the Fire Nation.” 

“Don’t do that,” she snapped at him. Zuko looked at her, surprised. “Don’t just bring up the past like we’re reminiscing on good times.” She stood so she was eye level with the former prince. “And you’re crazy if you think you can get back on my good side just by complimenting me.” 

“(Y/N)-”

“No! You’ll let me speak. For years I tried to reason why you would just drop me like I was nothing to you. Like we didn’t spend ever summer for years on this island, together, and that I didn’t spend almost every waking moment of every day at your side. You left me in the Fire Nation and even after our fights, even after you captured me to take me back to the Fire Nation as a war criminal, I still believed that there was some good in you. You sure fooled me! You had been fooling me for years and I just never realized it. And then, after everything I said to you in your uncle’s tea shop, you betrayed me. You ran home to the people who had been nothing but evil to you from the moment we met and left me in a prison to rot!” 

This was the most she had spoken to Zuko since he had joined their group. The fire that raged in her eyes was apparent, and Katara was close enough to see the flames dancing on her fingertips. 

“And then you want to come here and act like everything is fine? You want to befriend my friends, the people that cared for me when you didn’t, and bring up the good times we had and just completely forget that for the past three years you treated me like I was nothing! Every fight we had, I held myself back because no matter how hard I tried to, I couldn’t hurt you!” 

She shot a fire ball at him that missed by a few inches. Zuko stepped back as (Y/N) walked down to the beach. “You want to be here so badly? Prove it! Fight me!” 

“(Y/N),” Zuko began. 

“I challenge you to an Agni Kai!” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. She and her friends realized the weight of what she had said quickly. Zuko set his jaw, his fists balled at his sides. 

She regretted what she had said as soon as it came out of her mouth. She was just so angry and as she looked at Zuko, it was hard to not get angrier. Angry for leaving her behind in the Fire Nation, angry for betraying her in Ba Sing Se, and angry for being able to fit himself back into her life so easily. 

(Y/N) made the first attack, which Zuko dodged. She shot flames at his head, body, and feet and their friends watched in astonishment as they jumped, flipped, and kicked their way around each other. 

“It’s like they’re dancing,” Suki said. Aang narrowed his eyes. 

“He’s on the defense,” he said. 

“What?” Toph asked. 

“Zuko isn’t fighting her back.” 

Their friends could feel the flames get hotter as her anger toward Zuko eventually took control. She was getting sloppy with her movements and instead chose to shoot fire at Zuko every chance she got. Katara stood to diffuse the situation, but Sokka grabbed her arm. 

“They have to do this,” he said. 

(Y/N) was ruthless. She knew she didn’t want to hurt Zuko, but she couldn’t stop herself. Years of anger were reaching their boiling point in this battle. 

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Zuko shouted at her. 

“You already did!” She shouted back, jumping into the air and smacking her fists to the sand, sending a wave of fire at him. The flames had spread around them, encircling them in a ring of fire. Her fists were lit with fire blasts. “Fight me back!” She screamed, shooting balls of fire at him. He had been dodging her attacks and slashing through her flames. Not once had he shot fire at her. “Do something!” 

“I won’t!” Zuko shouted over the roar of the flames. “I don’t want this!” 

(Y/N) could feel the tears streaming down her face. If he fought her, she would have a reason to retaliate. She would have an answer for hurting him, just like he hurt her. Zuko’s amber eyes stared in to her own.

“I won’t fight you.” 

She was twelve again, watching with tear-filled eyes as Zuko knelt to the ground in front of his father, begging him for mercy. She remembered the fear in his voice and the way he screamed when his father burned him right after he had said the very same words he was saying to her. “I won’t fight you!” 

The flames died down instantly. (Y/N) brought her hands to her mouth and slowly fell to her knees, her body shaking with sobs. Her tears hit the hot sand around her. 

She felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her body close to theirs. Zuko rested his chin atop of her head and rubbed her back, his own tears sliding down his cheeks. She pulled away to look up at him. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy from her tears, and her bottom lip quivered as she held in a sob, but Zuko still felt his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t mean--I didn’t want--” 

“I know,” was all Zuko said. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tightly, tucking her face into his neck like she had when they were kids. They sat like that for what felt like hours, until one by one, they felt their friends wrap their arms around them. 

---

Tag List! 

@mdgrdians , @soft4kei , @bubblebars , @pleasantfankingdom , @vintageroses1014516 , @celamoon , @fangirlanotherjust , @gliderbudgie , @haylaansmi , @jada-cleo , @boxofteenageideas , @disgruntled-gay , @lie-ana , @jasmine-the-amazing , @svsoftie , @buckysfeet , @anime-simp , @imcravingyou , @rosetheshapeshifter , @alrightberries , @izzieserra , @hstott , @random-stupid-stuffs , @jackbamexpress , @jainaixo , @thefoxskinwalker , @kryptidkova , @bigbuckyenergy , @omgwhattheeven , @ohmigooosh , @snapchatisoverrated , @inlove-maze , @harapirena , @sooske , @sweeetteaa , @selenvx , @ilovespideyyy , @saaaasib , @mochminnie , @agentsofblinks , @happyariesbabey , @slytherky , @uglipotata72829 , @og-disaster-bi , @animeluver23

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

I agree honestly.

But the issue is that I know most of the right isn't evil. Hell I'd propose that it's a very small fraction. However given young activists, and otherwise, they do want people dead.

The I/P conflict has more than proven that. I look to posts on this very site with people saying, "Hey, maybe we should not give kids hormones because we have scientific knowledge that shows puberty is needed for proper growth", only to be met with "WOW Let's kill transphobes with hammers". And other similar statements.

Then you have Democrats who are left even if not always far left tweeting out things like, "Harass people from the Trump admin. Never let them rest, never let them feel safe", or, "Those kids should be put through a wood chipper", for the crime of standing their ground and not fleeing from a fake veteran that tried to lie about serving in Vietnam, who got in a kids face and was pounding a drum.

You got stuff like "Look at that smug punch-able face"

If I'm being clear, being on the left and seeing the left with their mask off has pretty much proven to me that they are much more extreme as a political leaning. They will lie and say that they are in the middle. They aren't. And YES I'm more than aware I'm saying that from the left. But I'm a moderate. And a Libertarian. I don't want both sides to view one another as evil. But this has been the point for decades now.

Frankly our issue in the west is Marxists. Not just that but people that Marxists have indoctrinated. In other words

People whom are the Banality of Evil. People who think they are doing the right thing because they are loaded up on hormones from puberty, or chemical hormones, or SSRI's or Birth Control. And they target the youth on purpose. Because they are really easy to manipulate. That's why so many of the people on Tumblr, FB, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, etc, between the ages of 12-20 are so politically charged. For instance the Stop Oil morons. They don't have the life experience those of us in our late 20's and 30's have. We've been "the world is ending in 2-10 years" for the past 50 years almost. It's not going to happen because of us. And certainly not any time soon.

But you have enough talking heads that are popular with teens and young adults who've convinced them that the world is LEGIT going to end NOW if we don't force Billions to starve or freeze to death. Meanwhile, never mentioning China, India, or Africa. Granted this isn't post about climate change so I'll pause on that.

If we were to ban all minors from having social media accounts. YES they'd still find a way to get on these sites. But they would not have as easy a way to access most social media. And if they were NOT perpetually on social media, mentally they'd be healthier, and we would not be letting them steer the conversation. Which tends to steer it off the rails. -Cont

Let me kind of explain in more long form.

If I had to take a gander based on research and experience, most of the "Anti's" on Twitter/X are minors. Minors whom are honestly REALLY stupid and have difficulties coming to terms with things they like. They often are extremely racist towards countries like Japan, and say that every character without a shit ton of wrinkles "look like they are 9". Meanwhile, having lewd pictures of those SAME characters in their own likes. Because they can't come to terms with what they like, with their own hormones, and can't understand that virtue signaling when you yourself participate in what you are specifically criticizing makes you a hypocrite. And that being a hypocrite isn't actually a good thing.

These are people that have NEVER learned humility, hubris, nuance or otherwise. So it's been pretty clear that things have been going wrong for a number of years now because they left have weaponized the youth. And they have been doing it for years.

Separating them from their families, telling them to "Find families" that affirm them through literally everything. Telling them their parents are actually stupid and don't know anything, especially when it comes to protecting you. Always obey the government and keep giving power because THEY will take care of you.

Except they won't. They want to separate you from your family so you don't have anyone. They want you to burn your bridges with family because family you are born into. Are families always good? No. Are ALL members of your family going to always be bad? Certainly not. Often that will NEVER be the case.

I hate this L v R thing. I made a huge post about it. Because frankly, it's disheartening to be a moderate left libertarian and be consistently labeled far right by other people on the left, and a shit lib by people who CLEARLY have no idea what a liberal actually is. The modern "version" of the term Liberal isn't an honest definition. Liberal would be more accurate if you used the term, Classical Liberal.

Left and Right, contrary to what the modern left want to claim, hasn't moved. PEOPLE have moved. Because normally, the spectrum looks like this

But if modern leftists are to be believed, then the spectrum looks a lot more like this.

I'm sorry. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works. This isn't how things work in the real world.

The spectrum doesn't move just because you run away from the middle. The middle will ALWAYS be the middle. And just because you think Stalin was the middle of the road, doesn't make it true. He was a far left auth tyrant.

I didn't want to turn this into a novel. But the modern left tend to be leftists. IE: People that worship the fact that they are on the left. And they DO want you dead. Dead or in chains. And that's not an exaggeration. Listen to them talk. They will admit it. Hell the people who in modern day claim "Oh I'm just Anti Zionist" meanwhile demanding death to all NON Israeli Jews. Like really? You? YOU'RE the "Punch a Nazi" guy. Meanwhile preaching literal Nazi talking points?

Frankly speaking the only way to fix this. Bring back faith, get children off social media, stop pumping people full of chemicals, keep yourself healthy, learn the definition of the word nuance, and for the love of god, stop swallowing what the news says with NO critical thinking. We are all guilty of it sometimes. But do better.

"Leftwing people find it very hard to get on with rightwing people, because they believe that they are evil. Whereas I have no problem getting on with leftwing people, because I simply believe that they are mistaken."

Roger Scruton (1944-2020) English Conservative philosopher.

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-36)

Word count: 5.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, PTSD, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​​. Love you babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m going home.”

“Jack!” You grabbed him by his elbow just as he turned. “You can’t abandon me!”

He looked a bit terrified. “I can’t do this, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you can. Jody is awesome and you’re so cute. I know she will like you.”

Jack did not look convinced. A tiny part of you was nervous with him. He was about to meet his girlfriend's mom for the first time. After calling Sam to tell him that you were up for the picnic, the wild optimism in his voice had you wearing out the carpet of your living room, freaking out about messing it up- for Sam and for Max. As a last resort, you had knocked on your neighbour’s door and convinced Jack to accompany you. As it turned out, Claire had been after him for a while to meet her family, and Jack being Jack was worrying the hell out of it. 

Now, you stood in front of the gate of your building, waiting for Sam to come pick you up, and not letting each other chicken out of this situation. That’s what friends did. 

“It’s not just Jody,” Jack admitted. “It’s also your husband.”

Your heart still lurched at the word. “Sam? What about him?”

Jack groaned, rolling his head. “I don’t know. You’re our Y/N… and then suddenly we find out you’re married. I really want to like him, but he’ll take you away from us.”

You were touched by his words, and the innocence in them. “No one can take me away. In fact, this is just my grand scheme to make sure that you’re stuck with me for life now. I’ve been slowly getting you hooked to the cookies. Soon there will come a day when you’ll realise you can't live without them. And then you just can’t get rid of me. It’ll be too late.”

Jack smiled at you and slung his arm around your soldier. “It’s not the cookies we’re getting addicted to, it’s you.”

A car made the swift turn and came to a stop next to the gate, right in front of you- Sam’s sleek, black Mercedes. 

Jack let out a low whistle. “I take it all back. You get back together with this guy and adopt me. Max is so much nicer than Kevin anyway. I'll share a room with him. I’ll do the dishes everyday.”

You were crying because of laughter by the time Sam opened his door and stepped out. 

“You alright?” He asked, face startled but amused.

Nodding and gasping for breath, you made the hasty introductions. Jack gave his patented customary hand raise of a greeting with palm facing forward. Sam was going for a handshake but seeing Jack’s wave, he did the same with a smile.

From the backseat, Max called out your name. Without caring about the rest, you opened the door and got in besides him, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, Y/N, aren’t you riding shotgun?” Jack asked, voice restrained to appear casual. 

“Nah, you got it. I’m going to hangout in the back with Max.”

Jack might be looking daggers at you for throwing him under the bus, but you knew he’d live. Sam was excellent company. In the next fifteen minutes of the ride, you were proven right, because Jack was busy discussing the mysterious circumstances under which Edgar Allan Poe died, and how The murders in Rue Morgue was actually his best work. Sam was exceptionally well read and Jack was in his element with literature discussions. 

You turned to Max, showing him your basket. “Look, what I got for you- your favourite cookies and a pie!”

He let out a squeal of delight and you snuck a cookie out for him. 

The car was spotless, rich upholstery gleaming, but you knew Sam couldn’t care less if Max got crumbs on the seats. Right on track, Max dug into the cookie, not bothering about the mess. Secretly, it pleased you that you were beginning to decode their relationship.

“I didn’t know what the others would like, so I baked muffins and some savoury croissants. You think that’s okay?”

“Stop gnawing over it, Y/N,” Sam said. “Everyone’s gonna love it.”

You didn’t think he was even paying any attention to you. Course you were wrong. His eyes were melting in the rearview mirror as he smiled at you.

“Y/N woke up at 4:30 in the morning to get everything set,” Jack added.

You bent forward to look at him. “How do you know that?”

“I could hear your beater whirring. Thin walls.”

“That woke you up? I’m so sorry, Jack!”

Jack snorted. “Was she always like this?”

“Always,” said Sam, with all the warmth. You could feel the heat in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you happily listened to Max chatter about the badminton racquet in the trunk and Claire’s home bowling set. He was such a joy to listen to when he was just being a kid and not careful. You listened very attentively, picking out the things that were only in the subtext of his words. Max loved these people- Jody, her girls and even Chase. He knew their habits and their natures like a family. Sam must have relied on them a lot and often. 

You were so lost in Max’s words, that the car was already silently cruising along the San Francisco bay. The water stretched by one side of the road. Instinctively, you tightened the grip on Max’s hand. 

Why hadn’t you thought to ask where the picnic was!

As it turned out, the place they had chosen was very serene… The little landscape was a small distance walk from the highway, secluded enough that it wasn’t frequented, but beautiful nonetheless. Tall, full trees dominated the landscape. The rich fall colours, oddly made the shade underneath brighter somehow, inviting. The shadows of the trees bleeded into an open, grassy area and ultimately into the sandy, pebbly waterline of the bay. 

You wrinkled your nose at the sight of nestled ducks. Sam smirked at you. Was he remembering the same afternoon? When you had tried to feed the ducks Sam and Dean’s epic failure of muffins?

Two girls were already laying out an assortment of food on the blanket. The blonde turned at the sound of Max’s hoots and her face brightened at the site of Jack. It was adorable. Alex still had her hand in a cast and Jody was hauling a cane chair from behind. All of them looked in a jovial mood. Maybe the whole sneaking out at night debacle was behind them. 

Alex greeted you first when you reached them. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Winchester.”

You felt rather than saw Sam’s eyes flash towards you. Smiling, you sat down next to her. “Y/N is just fine, Alex. You don’t have to change names all of a sudden.” 

Both she and Claire were a little wide eyed. Your situation had clearly been a topic of discussion with them. This girl they randomly knew as Max’s friend or Jack’s neighbor was now suddenly Sam’s wife. It must’ve been bizarre. After sharing a few pleasantries with Jody, you pulled out your own basket.

You had to admit, the reactions were very mollifying as they dug into the muffins, pies and croissants, moaning with closed eyes. Sam gave you a sideways smirk at their reaction.

“That’s it,” Jody declared. “You’re passing the rest of the semester for legal writing without handing in a single assignment. The muffins alone… mmm.”

“Save me some,” Sam complained. It was mostly aimed at Jody.

She scowled at him. “You stop making those eyes at me, Winchester. I’m not giving up my share.” When you giggled she turned towards you. “Did he always do that?”

“Puppy dog eyes of doom? Yeah… always.”

“You make that shit work for you in the court, don’t you? That’s how you win all of them cases,” she grumbled.

“How rude!”

You turned at the offended sound. Chase stood behind you with arms crossed over his chest. 

“You guys started eating without me?” He huffed, sitting down on your other side and turned to Max. “Your dad, I can expect that from. Since when did you turn into such an Iago?”

“I saved you the cookies,” Max said promptly, pulling the bag from behind him. There was a small furor which was mostly the girls complaining about how they didn’t know there were cookies. It ended with Chase clutching the bag to his chest.

“Flee away, children,” he said. “I need the cookies to mend my broken heart.”

“What happened to your girlfriend? Weren’t you bringing her with you?” Sam asked.

Chase threw him a very impressive shade. “She dumped me, Samuel.”

“Why?”

“She couldn’t bear that I was prettier than her.”

You suspected Chase was just playing it out for the cookies. He did not look heartbroken in the least. 

Once the food stash was considerably depleted, the girls, Jack and Max, picked up the racquets and divided their teams for Badminton. When Max insisted that you join them, Sam vehemently supported your argument of terrible hand-eye coordination. He knew and much like yourself, did not want to put other people in the way of the harm that you might inflict. In the end, only the group of four ended up on the blankets. Sam, Jody, you and Chase who was almost lying on his side, head resting on his hand, propped up on an elbow. He looked younger in a t-shirt and jeans. 

“I still can’t believe you can cook all of this by yourself! No wonder Sam didn’t want to junk the marriage.”

“Chase!” Sam admonished, mortified, but you enjoyed Chase’s unapologetic behaviour, being all too tired of people stepping on eggshells around you- especially Sam.

“No, it’s alright,” you said, grinning at Chase, who returned your grin with a wink.

“You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?” He enquired.

“Well, actually…”

“Someone other than Jo,” he added quickly. “God knows I won’t survive a minute if I went toe to toe with Dean Winchester. One Winchester is enough to keep me in line.”

Sam threw Chase his classic bitchface then went back to his conversation with Jody. Eyeing his absorption, Chase tilted his head towards the side, “Care to join me for a walk, Y/N?”

You chanced a look at Sam, who was busy discussing a faculty matter and nodded. As quietly as you could, the two of you got up and moved away. 

“So, did you end up applying? To Acton Gris, I mean?” He asked, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“I did, the very evening. I’m trying not to be too hopeful.”

His green eyes regarded you. “Now, whyever would you do that?”

“Because I’m a realist and I know what type of competition I’m up against.”

Chase chuckled. “You’re too idealistic, Y/N. Even more than Mr. Mc-dreamy over there. Never thought I’d see him topped in that category. I’m still hopeful. Looks like I’m the only one.”

“Why do you care?” You asked. “What does it matter to you if I end up in Acton Gris or not?”

“It doesn’t. I think it would be great for your career and it’s my duty being from the same alma mater to further your cause.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And this has nothing to do with Sam.”

Chase was quiet for a long time, watching his steps as you strolled along the waterline, a safe distance away from it. You had given up on expecting an answer and were just beginning to wonder what would be a good time to turn around and head back when he finally spoke, “I’ll admit I haven’t been your biggest fan, Y/N. Sam never said a word against you… and that is exactly what pissed me off.” 

This was in line with what you had pretty much already assumed so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“I’m telling you this because I know you ain’t a snowflake,” said Chase. “You don’t have the liberty to be a snowflake after everything you’ve been through. I also know you don’t care about my opinion of you.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you pointed out.

He sighed. “I suggested that you try at Acton Gris not for Sam’s sake but mine. That part I told you about- how Sam’s too high up to be involved with paralegals- is one hundred percent true. But I wanted to get to know you for myself.”

“To see if I was any good for Sam?”

Chase snorted. “This whole deal makes me sound like Sam’s possessive mistress but I am protective of him… and of his boy over there. I’ve been around for the start of that story, and they’ve been hurt enough. I am cad for saying this but I just didn’t trust you enough, and Sam being Sam was pining after you from day one… it’s quite tiresome to watch.”

“And now what? You suddenly approve of me? I passed some invisible test?”

“You guys are already married, who the heck am I to set a test for you? For the majority part I was telling the truth, you know. You’d flourish at Acton Gris. It would make you happy and Sam would be over the moon. But I still want to get to know you better.” He paused. “I haven’t had the best of family life growing up. More money than I could count, but my mother ditched me and my dad before I could spell out her name. I’ve seen him miserable for all his life… and well, it gave me mommy issues to last a lifetime.” Chase winked. “So all the meddling is clearly not me projecting my childhood abandonment issues on you. Clearly!”

Chase’s blunt honesty surprised you. He owed you nothing at all. Yet here he was answering all your questions. While he was at it, you decided to ask one more.

“Now you think I won’t break Sam’s heart?”

He looked at you and shook his head lightly. “I don’t know that. What I do know is that you won’t be able to break his heart without breaking your own first. I’ve only ever wanted him to be happy. Tried setting him up with a hundred girls, the guy just wouldn’t budge. Then you come back and it’s fucking sunshine all over his face. I know when to give up.”

Oddly, you understood exactly where Chase was coming from. He was so strongly rooted in Sam’s corner, all of his thoughts were biased, even if it meant being critical and wary of you. You hadn’t tried to achieve it, but somewhere in the middle you had gained both Chase’s confidence and his liking.

“What’s it like working under Sam?” You asked, changing the topic as well as voicing a curiosity. 

Chase gave you a look. “Now or then?”

“Both,” you said after a minute.

“You’ve got to know, I used to look up to Sam when I was at Stanford- not that he knew I existed back then. He was in the final year, I was in the first, and he was everything I wanted to be- Top of his class, valedictorian, popular with the ladies. I applied at Johnson’s because of that.” He paused, continuing only after an encouraging look from you. “He was nothing like I remembered. Every time I faced him, there was a very real risk of being fired for the smallest mistake.”

Chase laughed. You did not. He was describing a Sam you couldn’t imagine, a Sam that shouldn’t have existed.

“Now he’s my best friend. At any rate, he’s about the only person who puts up with my dumb antics.”

“He puts up with a lot from a lot of people,” you murmured, absentmindedly staring at the lake. 

A small moment caught your eye. The birdy that had been flying back and forth between the girls and the boys, flew over a bit too high and far. And as a reflex, Max, his eyes up, backed away fast.

“No!” You were already running by the time you realised that the terrified scream was yours. 

“No, no… Chirp!” You shouted, but it was too late as the boy’s feet hit the wet slope. He slipped and tumbled back, rolling right into the water. 

Your legs were aching from how hurriedly you dove after him, right into the bay, lashing in the water till your hands found Max’s body. Yanking him out of the water and against your body, you backed off quickly. You cradled his body on the sandy shore, frantically checking his face, arms to make sure he was alright. Max didn’t look hurt, just shocked and a bit scared.

“Are you okay?” You asked, too loudly. Max nodded.  

Hands landed on your shoulder, your head. Voices told you to let go but you did not release Max, not till another voice murmured in your ear, “It’s alright, Y/N. He’s okay.”

You turned on Sam. “Why did you let him near water? Why weren’t you paying any attention?” You yelled, not relinquishing your hold on Max.

Sam crouched down before you, not attempting to reach out to Max, who was staring wide eyed at you. 

“What if something had happened to him?” You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand. “He’s just a little boy! How could you be so careless?”

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and carefully wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Max is alright,” he said calmly, “You can let go of him.”

“No!”

“Y/N, you’re all wet and you’re starting to shake. Get inside the car before it gets worse.”

“But Max…”

“Max is fine,” Sam said in the same patient tone. “Look at the water, it’s not even waist deep. This side of the bay is very shallow for, at least, fifty yards and Max can swim very well.”

The realisation came very suddenly. Max had never been in any danger at all. The girls had sarongs on, maybe they had all intended a swim. You had needlessly created a scene, drenched Max more than he needed to be and yelled at Sam for being an irresponsible father.

The tears spilled over again but because of a different reason this time- shame. You let go of Max the next instant, staring pointedly at the ground.

Max turned in your lap. Small, soft hands came up to wipe away the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I won’t go near the water again.”

You threw your arms around him again and sobbed against his little neck. The people around you seemed to be closing in but you didn’t want to look up at any of them. Your heartbeat was thudding erratically against Max’s head but he didn’t make a move to leave or get up.

“C’mon, girls, start packing,” Jody ordered over you. “Give Y/N some space to breathe. You, too, lover boy!”

Four sets of feet scampered away. 

“Chase, take Max to the blankets. There’s a fresh set of clothes in his bag.”

You did not want to let go of the boy. Doing so would make you face Sam.

It seemed Max was reluctant as well, but with one look at Sam, he disentangled himself. You felt the softest brush of his lips on your cheek and then Max was walking away, his hand in Chase’s. 

Sam put both his hands against your arms and pulled you to your feet. He drew his coat tightly around you and started walking you towards his car, his palm firmly planted against your back. 

You let him, without another word as he opened the door of the passenger seat for you to get in. Sam got in on the other side and turned the heat up. Only when the car started did you shake out of the quiet.

“Wait. Max?”

“Don’t worry about him. Chase will drive him home.”

Sam’s voice betrayed no emotion. Not anger or hurt. It was as composed as the many lectures he had delivered.

Ashamed of even meeting his gaze, you tipped your head against the window, glad that the side was facing the road instead of the bay and closed your eyes. It felt like floating in bliss if you buried your emotions down- this sensation of gliding on a smooth road, the heat in the car swirling with the scent of Sam’s cologne. It felt familiar and safe. 

All too soon you were jerked awake, the car easing into the driveway and coming to a stop. It was already dark outside. Somehow you had slept through the whole ride. Your clothes were completely dry. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice like velvet in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Straightening up, you turned to face Sam who was looking down at you with concern etched on his face. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and spoke through a hoarse voice, looking at them. “Please forgive me.” Those three words did not even begin to cover the regret you felt over what had happened. You were an outsider, looking in on Sam’s life with this strange hunger and desire. You wanted to be a part of his little family so bad, but you weren’t yet. You didn’t know Max the way Sam did, did not understand Max’s choices, and the thoughts behind them. You did not have a right to him or Sam. Ignoring all of that, you had yelled at Sam, the way a wife would yell at her husband for neglecting their child. But, Sam wasn’t neglecting Max. Max wasn’t your son and you were barely Sam’s wife. 

“It was thoughtless and stupid to raise my voice at you and say those words. I forgot that Max belongs to you, that you could never be careless towards him. I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone.” 

Maybe it was all for good. Let Sam see what you were capable of. If he saw the truth of how broken you were, maybe he would stop wanting you in his life. Everyone knew how hysteric you could get now. So much for Jody rooting for you. So much for Chase’s hopes of Sam getting to be happy. They all saw you for who you truly were. 

“You remember what I told you the other night?” Sam asked. “When you came over and we sat by the swing?”

The lightness of his voice made you look up. He should be angry, at least, pissed.

“I told you that I didn’t care what people thought about us.”

“Doesn’t justify what I did… How it must’ve looked...”

“You know how it looked to me?”

Sam’s eyes were clear, no resentment in them. “To me it looked like you ran to protect my son without caring for your life. You didn’t know the water wasn’t deep, you can’t swim and you’re fucking terrified of water. I’m not even talking about what the cold does to you. Why on earth would I care about how this looks to anyone else?”

You were transfixed by the depth of his words.

“Those people either love you or love me. I’m sure they saw it no differently than how I see it.”

“What about Max? I must’ve scared him so bad.” The poor boy hadn’t said anything except apologise to you for stepping in the water. It hadn’t been his fault.

Sam pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. I think he’s concerned about you the most.”

You put your head in your hands, weary. The fear was still an echo in your stomach despite the sleep, and it was getting stronger every minute- what if something had happened to Max?

“Can I ask you something?” Sam sounded hesitant.

“Mhmm.”

“Do you remember what you said right before you jumped in the water?”

You frowned, trying to remember. “Wasn’t I calling out to Max?” There had been no time to say anything or do anything else.

Sam’s face was tender as he said, “Yeah, you were calling out to Max.”

What a weird thing to ask! You tried harder, failing to remember what Sam was talking about.

Lights flared up behind. You leaned back, not realising just how close you were to Sam. The car coming from behind came to a halt at the start of the driveway. The doors opened and Max and Jack spilled out from either sides. Jack reached your door first. He opened it and pulled you into a hug without waiting for you to turn.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay.”

“You were shaking so bad.” 

It was actually nothing compared to what Jack could have witnessed if Sam hadn’t whisked you off into the car and in front of a heater.

Chase’s reaction was a bit more subdued. He looked worried about how you were doing and wasn’t his usual boisterous self. When Sam invited him for dinner, he took a raincheck. So did Jack. Once, Chase had driven away, Sam looked at you expectantly, but you just shook your head. You had intruded on their time too much already. 

You crouched down to Max’s level who was uncharacteristically quiet. “I scared you today, didn’t I?”

Max didn’t say anything. He placed the back of his hand against your forehead and then under your jaw.

“I’m alright, sweetie,” you assured him. 

Max hugged you around the neck, and you hugged back tightly just for a second. You would jump inside a hundred lakes a hundred times without a single thought if it meant Max would be safe.

“I love you,” Max whispered very quietly in your ear. You were sure no one else had heard it.

Just as quietly, you whispered back. “I love you, too, my little boy.”

“Get inside, Max,” Sam said. “Wash your hands and change out of your clothes. I’ll be there in a minute to run the bath for you.”

With a small sigh, Max went inside, but not before giving you a smile.

“I’ll wait for you right outside the gate,” Jack told you. “It was great meeting you, Sam.”

“Likewise,” said Sam.

You watched Jack almost run out of sight. 

“Cool kid,” Sam muttered, eyes in the same direction.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I ruined the picnic and put a damper on everyone’s mood.”

“C’mere.” Sam gently pulled you to him, so that your body was leaning against his. One hand was curled around your shoulder and his other hand was against your lower back. You could feel the tips on his fingers against the little skin exposed between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your pants. It sent a thrill through your body. “It’s like you have to find something to worry about all the time. Quit doing that. Everyone’s just glad that you’re okay. We’ll do this again sometime, alright? We can push Chase in the water next time.”

You snorted.

“And don’t worry about the yelling. You know I always liked it when you got bossy like that.”

Sam’s words made you giggle.

“There’s my girl.” His warm breath washed over your face. 

What you did next was inexcusable. Without warning, you were reaching up on the tips of your toes, kissing him. Sam was surprised, his hands left your body, but you threw yours around his neck, raising yourself up against his tall frame. He was so shocked that he lost his balance and fell back against the wall next to his door. You did not give up, sucking on his lower lip, feeling the roll of his muscles under your hand.

Sam let out a primal sound and the next second you were turning, it was your back to the wall now. He hoisted you up against the surface by your waist with one hand, hitching your leg around his waist. The other hand tangled in your hair as his mouth worked hard against yours. His taste was heady, intoxicating and the way he was kissing you was enough to make you forget where you were, what you were doing. It would make you forget your own name. The hand at your waist travelled under the hem of your shirt, clutching at the skin on your lower back, and his lips started to travel downwards, sucking, biting, along your chin to your jaw and back down again to the column of your neck. Sam wasn’t gentle… and as you gasped, indecently, eyes closed, you didn’t want him to be gentle either. 

No, you wanted him to be rougher, go harder and never stop.

“Daaaaaadd!” Max sang from the inside and the two of your sprang apart. Your feet landed on the ground with resounding reality. 

"Coming," he said, voice thick.

Sam bent down, hands on his knees, gasping hard.

“Oops!” You muttered. 

He looked up at you with a boyish grin, face flushed, looking years younger.

“I better go,” you said, biting your lip. “Jack’s waiting for me.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to ask you to stay and by the looks of it, he wanted the exact same thing.

“Uhhh yeah…” Sam huffed, shifting slightly, trying to adjust his jeans furtively. That made your face grow hotter. 

“Bye!” You ducked out of the porch, not looking back, least you should turn around and attack him again. What had gotten into you to react so wildly? That must’ve been highly inappropriate! 

A small voice in your head told you that it was anything but inappropriate… technically, at least.

Jack’s face lit up when he saw you and then it immediately dropped.

“What happened?”

“Y-Your hair!” He muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

“Oh!” It was mussed up in all directions. Hurriedly, you ran your fingers through it, hoping for some semblance. “Sorry.”

After a minute, Jack sneaked a glance and then smiled impishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of you making out with someone gives me the heebies… You’re like my sister!” He screwed up eyes into slits to show the cringe.

You laughed.

At the door, Jack gave you another hug. “I gotta say, Y/N, I wasn’t convinced about this whole Sam business before today. Neither was Kev. You know we would always support you with whatever you decided, but seeing you with him was very relieving. I won’t worry again.”

It was heartening, how much everyone cared for you. 

You had to take a cold shower once inside, despite your composition. It was regretful, because the water washed away the remnants of Sam’s smell off of you. Idly, you wondered if you could steal the shirt he had lent you and keep it for yourself, climb into it when you went to bed like you used to. 

The shower was necessary to reign in the utter chaos that was your brain. The evening had been eventful enough, but what had happened on Sam’s porch? How were you ever going to keep your hands away from him now? Abstaining was your idea to begin with. Sam had bared his heart to you, and this was your decision to keep your hands to yourself till you said the three words back to him.

So much for self control. But the way he’d looked at you, angels would have fallen for less. You were only a human. Besides, nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Sam’s lips, his fingers digging in your back, his body pressed against yours. 

You got into the bed, missing the warmth of his body when your phone pinged. Rolling on your stomach, you reached out to grab it from the nightstand praying the text was from the one person you wanted it to be from. It was.

*I missed that. I missed us*

Hugging the phone to your chest, you sighed like a teenager back from her first kiss. The incidence with water should have shaken you, the way you were wrecked anytime you got drenched, instead you were laying in bed grinning like an idiot.

*I missed us, too*

His reply was instantaneous. 

*It’s been a while…*

What an idiot! You knew what he was implying. As if he could ever be less than perfect at anything, especially at that.

You typed your response quickly. 

*Oh, Mr. Winchester, you always knew how to show a girl a good time*

The tightening in your stomach which refused to go away despite the cold shower was proof enough. Your skin still tingled. 

*That’s comforting… and encouraging ;)*

Yes, it was going to be really hard to go back to keeping your hands off each other now. Being around him was like breaking dams. Once you broke one, it was impossible to put that barrier back up again. The class tomorrow was going to be excruciating. For tonight, you let the wildest fantasies mingled with old memories take up all of your brain space. Even if it left you writhing in your sheets.

*Good night, Mr. Winchester*

You saw the three dots following one another and then disappearing as Sam typed. Once, twice, thrice. Finally the little pop up bubble appeared.

*Good night, Mrs. Winchester. I love you* 

**********************************

A/N 2: I quite like this part. Gave me the chance to explore how delicate, confusing, dependent and volatile emotions can be at the same time. I think if I hadn’t had the backing of 35 chapters, I’d never be able to pull of the conversations in this chapter, Sam, Chase, Jack... all of them. They wouldn’t have been as funny, emotional or exciting. That’s just me thinking maybe.

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[theparanormalperiodical]

Everything You Never Knew About The Nazi UFO Conspiracy Theory (it’s a wild ride)

Oil.

You could tell the story of the modern world through oil.

The thick, sticky liquid is the dark glue clobbering the West together. Nations go to war, governments plot and plunder, and innocent people get caught up in the crossfire. All for oil.

But the oil I’m talking about didn’t start a war. It instead leads us to a little known historical tale. A tale that in turn brings us to the front step of a conspiracy theory.

Our story starts in Queen Maud Land, Antarctica.

It’s currently -46 degrees celsius. We are surrounded by soft, white stretches of snow and sharp, mountain-esque peaks breaching the ice.

But some would have you believe there is much more to the land lying just beyond the North Pole. According to some theorists, beneath the frost-bitten ground lies an entire hidden society. And amongst the people gathering in this underground bunker sits technological advances quite literally out of this world.

In 1938, an expedition from Nazi Germany was sent out to take control of Queen Maud Land (known then as New Swabia) in order to supply whale oil for the upcoming war in Western Europe.

Theorists, however, claimed that after the war, the remaining Nazis in Europe fled to New Swabia and may have even kept and developed their advancements in aircraft technology. Yes, it is here they keep and dispatch their UFO technology, helped only by a superhuman race or aliens!

Strap in, kids. It’s time to talk about the messy, mysterious and my-god-this-is-weird-shit Nazi UFOs.

2010 was a pretty tame year by the decade’s standards.

But in late November, a meme was born. A meme that probably relaunched a conspiracy that once thrived in a postwar world: it claimed aliens paid a visit to the guys at the top during Nazi Germany’s heyday and offered up advice for advanced aircraft technology.

Ancient Aliens (season 2 episode 5) gave us innocent viewers the lowdown on the UFOs spotted during and after the war that were supposedly related to Hitler’s regime.

This theory clusters alongside other Ancient Aliens theories - that extraterrestrials have popped down now and then to help construct vast civilisations like Ancient Egypt.

Is it true?

Is it bugger.

But the theories and the evidence put forward frame a unique time in history.

What are Nazi UFOs?

The title of this theory is far from imaginative. The theory claims the Nazis were successful in advancing aircrafts and spacecrafts during WW2. But there is also talk of postwar survival of this technology, whether concealed at the North Pole or hiding in plain sight at NASA.

We know that the Nazis made vast strides in engineering and weaponry. In fact, the ‘evidence’ route forward by theorists relies heavily on accounts from high-up figures in the Axis countries.

Take the Repulsine: this was a specialised engine built during the war. How far was the stretch from this feat of engineering to alien-tech? Is it possible that an advanced race of extraterrestrials stopped by with a few tips and tricks?

Apparently so, as put forward by the claims of the Haunebu flying saucer and the occult-inspired Die Glocke (the existence of both of these aircrafts is, of course, highly disputed).

Nazi UFO believers should get some credit, however - they at least did some research. They got their facts right on three crucial pieces of evidence, before losing control of the wheel and skidding off the track completely.

Firstly, yes, we know they claimed New Swabia in 1938 for the purpose of obtaining whale oil and potentially for imperial pursuits, as well.

And yeah, they researched advanced propulsion tech. They even created a prototype of a circular-winged aircraft that looks preeeeetty similar to your run-of-the-mill UFO.

They even get right that there were flurries of UFO sightings during the war by allied forces.

But as soon as 1950, outlandish claims emerged, mere years after Germany surrendered and the Allies claimed victory. But we need to start at the beginning.

The year is 1944.

The end of the war is just on the horizon. The Allies have liberated Western Europe from Nazi grip. But a new, surprising threat is in the soldiers line of sight, too.

It was a cold, November evening. Lt. Fred Ringwald was in a night fighter piloted by a fellow Lieutenant. As they soared above the Rhine valley, the two american soldiers spotted something in the hills of Strasbourg.

8 fiery, orange lights were staring back at them.

They were sure, as any fighter pilot in that situation, that this was enemy aircraft. And yet nothing showed up on the radar. As soon as they turned the plane to prepare to fight, the orange lights had disappeared.

Many would attribute such sightings to combat fatigue, St. Elmo’s Fire (weather phenomena during a storm where glowing plasma appears near masts) or the fact that pilots would have seen many aircrafts clogging across Europe's skies.

But soon, the sightings began to spread. And fast.

In December, a pilot saw “5 or 6 flashing red and green lights in ’T’ shape.” in the skies near Breisach, Germany. They followed him but quickly vanished.

Days later, two orange glowing lights were spotted by two more flight crews.

They rose from the earth to 10,000 feet before tailing the fighters for approx. 2 minutes. They then stopped following the allied planes and disappeared.

“They appear to be under perfect control at all times”

Keith Chester

These sightings would become so common, they’d be given a nickname:

Foo fighters.

Scientists would go on to investigate them, later decoding them as advanced German aircrafts and weaponry. As they were only spotted by allied forces, it was likely they were advancements such as the V-1 or V-2 rocket.

But after the war, UFO sightings continued to apparently connect the dots:

Project Sign, an official US UFO investigation team, linked the designs of the German Horten brothers to UFO reports. The head of the follow up investigation confirmed some of their findings:

“When WWII ended, the Germans had several radical types of aircraft and guided missiles under development. The majority were in the most preliminary stages, but they were the only known craft that could even approach the performance of objects reported by UFO observers.”

Captain Edward J. Ruppelt, 1959

It was only after the war that accounts from former officials of the Axis regimes appeared to support these claims.

The first newspaper report forging a connection between UFOs and the crushed Nazi regime was written by a former Italian Minister of National Economy under Mussolini’s regime:

"types of flying discs were designed and studied in Germany and Italy as early as 1942"

But this doesn’t suggest aliens airdropped a PDF of flying saucer designs. We know that flying saucer aircrafts can and have been created.

A similar account from a Czeh scientist spurred on another key element of this conspiracy theory.

Die Glocke.

December 9th 1965.

All is peaceful in the small town of Kecksberg, Pennsylvania. That’s about to change.

Six American citizens in Detroit, Michigan, Windsor and Ontario witnessed a fireball score across the sky. NASA later claimed that this was a meteorite or a Soviet satellite crashing back to Earth.

UFOlogists weren’t so sure.

Many claim they saw a large object the size of a VW Beetle spotted with strange symbols, like hieroglyphics, being carried out by a truck from the area cordoned off at the crash site.

UFOlogists believe they recovered The Bell, an occult-alien-hybrid spacecraft.

Apparently, such claims bear a similarity to the designs of an aircraft laid out in a Wehrmacht document about a vertical take-off craft. And then Rudolph Schirever, the man claiming he designed it during the war, gave a statement the same month something crashed to the earth.

He told Der Spiegel that he designed a craft powered by rotating turbine blades. He developed it until April 1945 at BMW in Prague before fleeing to the Czeh Republic, as it is now known. 3 years later, he claimed the designs were stolen.

He thinks Czeh agents nicked his ideas for a foreign power.

Could it have been for an underground society of failed Nazi war criminals stowed away in underground base in Antartica?

(That was a mouthful.)

Many have attached their own take to Die Glocke.

Some believe it was anti-gravitational, others claim it was a time-machine. Some claim a Nazi colonel handed it over to the US military to buy his freedom, and a few even allege that the US forces forced Nazi scientists to build Die Glocke and advance it’s anti-gravity technology.

This stuff is pretty out there.

Quite literally.

But the last bit does fit actual history: US forces did bring over Nazi scientists to advance their space technology.

Postwar Theories

When historians began to reflect on the war decades after it ended, new ideas banking on UFOs followed suit.

In the 1960s, one of these most infamous theories was put forward in the controversial book The Morning of the Magicians.

It made numerous claims about the mysterious and fictional Vril Society which was based on a novel about superhuman-angel-alien beings that lived inside the Earth. In 1935, a German engineer fled to the US spouting claims that the Nazis did indeed have a society dedicated to finding the Vril.

The Morning of the Magicians claimed the Vril Society was a precursor to the Nazi party amongst other ideas. They supposedly created flying disc prototypes and had a secret base on the moon.

Oh, and about that Antarctica underground base?

It’s so the Nazis can vanish into the Earth and meet that advanced race living down there.

Jumping onto this New Swabia bandwagon was Ernst Zündel.

This Holocaust denier (*stares into camera*) wrote many books throughout the 70s claiming flying saucers were secret weapons released from this base. He even claimed he would attempt to locate the base and reveal the Earth was crammed full of aliens this entire time!

In 2002, he let slip that it was a big ruse to bring in more cash for his publishing company.

At the end of the decade, Migeul Serrano gave it a go. He was a Nazi sympathiser and believed that Hitler was the avatar (a deity on earth) of a Hindu god. Apparently he was hanging out with the hyperborean gods (Greek gods that are stowed away at the North Pole) underground until he was ready to release UFOs and bring in the Fourth Reich.

The last, infamous proponent of this theory had physical, real-life consequences.

A year after Serrano made his claims, Richard Chase professed that Nazi UFOs had forced him to commit numerous brutal and bloody crimes under threat to his own life.

Chase is one of the most infamous serial killers in history, earning the title the Vampire of Sacramento due to his reputation for murder, rape, cannibalism and necrophilia. These claims can be traced back to his schizophrenia which prompted him to believe prison officials were poisoning his food as directed by Nazi UFOs.

***

I think sometimes it’s easier for us to frame the atrocities committed by the Nazi regime within the context of something the horror genre would spit out. We’d much rather spin tales of occult rituals and far-out entities than admit actual humans did what they did.

It’s no surprise that following the war, a surge in movies detailing alien invasion emerged. It fit the fears of impending doom from a foreign, fascist government, a reality for many nations during WW2.

What do you think is the craziest claim?

If you liked this blogpost, make sure you like and reblog it. And while you’re down there, hit follow to read something spooky every weekend!

[myserendipities]

The average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short. Here’s one way of putting things in perspective: the first modern humans appeared on the plains of Africa at least 200,000 years ago, and scientists estimate that life, in some form, will persist for another 1.5bn years or more, until the intensifying heat of the sun condemns the last organism to death. But you? Assuming you live to be 80, you’ll have had about 4,000 weeks. And so distraction truly matters – because your experience of being alive consists of nothing other than the sum of everything to which you pay attention. At the end of your life, looking back, whatever compelled your attention from moment to moment is simply what your life will have been. When you pay attention to something you don’t especially value, it’s not an exaggeration to say that you’re paying with your life. All of which helps clarify what’s so alarming about the contemporary online “attention economy”, of which we’ve heard so much in recent years: it’s essentially a giant machine getting you to care about things you didn’t want to care about. And you have far too little control over your attention simply to decide, as if by fiat, that you’re not going to succumb to its temptations. Many of us are familiar with the basic contours of this situation. We know that the “free” social media platforms we use aren’t really free, because, as the saying goes, you’re not the customer but the product being sold. In other words, the technology companies’ profits come from seizing our attention, then selling it to advertisers. You might also be aware that this is delivered by means of “persuasive design” – an umbrella term for an armoury of psychological techniques borrowed directly from the designers of casino slot machines, for the express purpose of encouraging compulsive behaviour. One example among hundreds is the ubiquitous drag-down-to-refresh gesture, which keeps people scrolling by exploiting a phenomenon known as “variable rewards”: when you can’t predict whether or not refreshing the screen will bring new posts to read, the uncertainty makes you more likely to keep trying, again and again and again, just as you would on a slot machine. So it’s not simply that our devices distract us from more important matters. It’s that they change how we’re defining “important matters” in the first place. In the words of the philosopher Harry Frankfurt, they sabotage our capacity to “want what we want to want”. As the technology critic Tristan Harris likes to say, each time you open a social media app, there are “a thousand people on the other side of the screen” paid to keep you there – and so it’s unrealistic to expect users to resist the assault on their time and attention by means of willpower alone. Yet if we’re to understand distraction at the deepest level, we’ll also have to acknowledge an awkward truth at the bottom of all this, which is that “assault” – with its implications of an uninvited attack – isn’t quite the right word. We mustn’t let Silicon Valley off the hook, but we should be honest: much of the time, we give in to distraction willingly. Something in us wants to be distracted, whether by our digital devices or anything else – to not spend our lives on what we thought we cared about the most. Young’s ordeal demonstrates an important point about what’s going on when we succumb to distraction, which is that we’re motivated by the desire to try to flee something painful about our experience of the present. Consider the archetypal case of being lured from your work by social media: it’s not usually that you’re sitting there, concentrating rapturously, when your attention is dragged away against your will. In truth, you’re eager for the slightest excuse to turn away from what you’re doing, in order to escape how disagreeable it feels to be doing it; you slide away to the Twitter pile-on or the celebrity gossip site with a feeling not of reluctance but of relief. The solution to this mystery, dramatic though it might sound, is that whenever we succumb to distraction, we’re attempting to flee a painful encounter with our finitude – with the human predicament of having limited time and, more especially in the case of distraction, limited control over that time. When you try to focus on something you deem important, you’re forced to face your limits, an experience that feels especially uncomfortable precisely because the task at hand is one you value so much. The overarching point is that what we think of as distractions aren’t the ultimate cause of our being distracted. They’re just the places we go to seek relief from the discomfort of confronting limitation. The reason it’s hard to focus on a conversation with your spouse isn’t that you’re surreptitiously checking your phone beneath the dinner table. On the contrary, “surreptitiously checking your phone beneath the dinner table” is what you do because it’s hard to focus on the conversation – because listening takes effort and patience and a spirit of surrender, and because what you hear might upset you. Even if you place your phone out of reach, therefore, you shouldn’t be surprised to find yourself seeking some other way to avoid paying attention. In the case of conversation, this generally takes the form of mentally rehearsing what you’re going to say next, as soon as the other person has finished making sounds with their mouth. But the most effective way to sap distraction of its power is to stop expecting things to be otherwise – to accept that this unpleasantness is simply what it feels like to commit ourselves to the kinds of demanding and valuable tasks that force us to confront our limited control over how our lives unfold.

At best, we’re on Earth for around 4,000 weeks – so why do we lose so much time to online distraction? | Books | The Guardian