#most uneducated goddamn people in the world i swear

[my-brains-garbage-dump]

when i say i hate vegans i don't mean normal ass people who live their lives and understand that their lifestyle choice is not for everyone. i'm talking about the blogs that screech 'fuck carnists' from the rooftops and suggest that keeping animals as companions is a moral failing and that if something needs to survive on meat maybe it deserves to die out actually. i hate people who spew fascist rhetoric and insist that their way is the only way and that being unable or unwilling to comply is a moral failing that should condemn you to death. you're not going to convince me that eating meat is equal to beating a dog to death with a baseball bat, you're not going to convince me that drinking milk is equivalent to strangling a newborn calf with my bare hands. you're just making me hate you and your entire movement. you're just a bad person, trying to shock and shame people into doing what you want like every other schoolyard bully. like every other piece of fascist trash out there.

if you think this way? if you treat other human beings like this? you are delusional and you are a unique kind of evil in this world, throwing violent and graphic imagery in people's faces and saying that anyone who would die on a vegan diet isn't meant to live. you have more empathy for theoretical chickens and cows and bees than for real living humans being exploited left and right to support your fad diet. you would see immunocompromised people starve to death and ascend the pile of their corpses to raise a banner of triumph.

you are not morally pure. you are not a hero. you are a vain, sheltered idiot child that never grew up and cannot come to grips with the fact that life and death go hand in hand. you saw a buffalo die in a documentary once and decided that meant the lion who needed to eat was evil. you are doing infinitely more harm in creating a market for mass-produced import foods that starve out small villages by taking away their main food source than you would just buying from local farmers instead of going to walmart. but that doesn't feel as morally superior, i guess.

learn how to protest factory farms and harmful livestock practices like a normal goddamn person, don't try and force your incredibly expensive and unsustainable lifestyle on everyone around you. i would starve to death on a vegan diet, since it would eliminate 90% of what is available to me and basically have me living on bananas and raw tomatoes, but i guess you think that means i was never meant to live, don't you? soulless fucking hypocrites. choke.

[santheweird]

Hey Sarge! (Chapter 5)

Summary: Due to the lack of jobs because of World War 2, Alexander Sami Hale joined the army to keep her family’s head above the water.

She falsified her enlistment form, convincing the officials that she was actually a boy named Alexander Hale.

When her sergeant, James Barnes, was captured by the German forces during a battle in Azzano, Alex went AWOL to aid a man named Steve Rogers to rescue his best friend.

This is her story.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of war, survivor’s guilt, burn wounds

(gif may or may not work)

~

Alex needed a cigarette. Badly. But as she doesn’t smoke that much, she doesn’t have her own personal stash. She could bum one from someone else, but they were still somewhat in enemy territory, and any small light could be seen by a plane flying overhead, including a cigarette light.

She tightened the jacket around her, shivering as she tried to sleep. But she couldn’t. Everytime she closed her eyes, flashes of the battle appeared behind her eyelids: explosions, people disappearing into dust, those strange blue flashes, screaming, blazing inferno despite the heavy rain, so close to her that she could feel the heat on the side of her face-

She would always wake up grasping for something that wasn’t there.

The battle of Azzano had taken a huge toll on their numbers. What remained of the 107th was around 20 soldiers at most, and if you included the other soldiers from other forces, everyone added up to around 85 soldiers, 100 at most.

No.

Not everyone.

Alex hugged her legs tighter. No matter how many times she counted, or asked around or searched in this meager group, she would never be able to find Bucky, Dugan and Jones.

And it was all her fault.

~

“-ex! Alex! Wake up! Alex!”

Alex snapped her eyes open, drawing in a deep breath of shock and fear. Bucky hovered over her anxiously, his helmet askew and the side of his face caked with mud and blood. Alex felt the tremors of a nearby explosion on the ground she was lying on, jarring her teeth.

“Oh my god, you fucking idiot!” Bucky pulled Alex off the ground, his grip strangely gentle. “We were given the order to retreat, not run in the other goddamn direction!’

Alex’s ears were ringing, and her legs buckled as soon as she stood up, collapsing immediately against Bucky, her left arm throbbing painfully. “Wha- what happened?”

“What happened was you pulling a fucking Steve on me and running off right onto the face of danger!” Bucky grumbled, slinging Alex’s right arm over his shoulder, half-carrying, half-dragging Alex away from the front lines. “When you said you would take care of the flamethrower, I didn’t think that you would mean that you would explode it!”

“Well, you always did say that I reminded you of your ol’ pal. Guess that got to my head.” Alex grinned, eyes half-lidded and delirious from her pounding head and...burned arm? Oh, right, she threw a small bomb, made out of gunpowder from her bullets and a lot of desperate improvising, at the flamethrowers. She thought that the blast would break the containers containing the flammable liquid and gas, but she didn’t expect it to explode so violently.

“Not just your arm.” Bucky breathed out. Oh, was she speaking out loud? “The left side of your face got hit too, and your shoulder has some shrapnel. Don’t try to move it too much.”

Alex's head swam as she barely registered Bucky's words. So that's why one side of her face felt like it was burning despite the rain around them.

“Scared the living crap outta me.” Bucky complained. “I swear, you and Stevie are gonna get along like a house on fire if you meet each other. But I pray that the Lord Almighty would prevent that from happening.”

“Didn't peg you as the praying type.” Alex slurred, legs stumbling over a couple of loose rocks and dead bodies.

“I would willingly shave my head and become a monk instead of taking care of both you ‘lil shits at the same time.”

“Bullshit. You would never bring yourself to shave your hair, you vain bastard.” Alex knew what James was doing, constantly talking to her to keep her awake, so that hypothermia and all those other things wouldn't set in. It was working, so far, but she could sense the tremble in his voice, and Alex wondered faintly, at the back of her head, just how much Bucky had to hide behind his cheerful facade in order to be a reassuring rock of stability for her squad.

An explosion shook her out of her thoughts, the force of it bringing her to her knees, accidentally dragging Bucky down with her as well. Alex howled in pain when her arm was jostled painfully, letting go of Bucky to grip her arm. Black spots danced in her vision and she faintly heard Bucky curse behind her as deadly flashes of blue light passed by over their heads.

“Hold on tight!” He slung her over his shoulder and dashed towards a nearby pile of debris for cover. Safe (hopefully) from any attacks, Bucky started checking on Alex arm and shoulder, salvaging any pieces of cloth to at least staunch the bleeding. Alex winced, tearing up at the pain and the hopelessness of this entire situation. She was badly injured and wasn’t sure if she could walk properly. She would only weigh Bucky down, and there was almost no chance of him getting to safety if she stayed with him.

“Sarge,” she breathed out. “Go on without me. Save yourself. We’re both gonna die if you stay with me so it’s best that you-”

Bucky looked up right at her, breathing heavily and eyes wide and Alex didn’t know if it was the rain but it really looked like he was crying right now.

“No.”

“Bucky-”

“No, I am not fucking leaving you.” Bucky responded firmly, his voice slightly hoarse. “If you think for one fucking moment that I’m gonna leave you alone in this shithole, then think again. I am your superior officer, and it is my duty to make sure you get back to your family safe and sound when this shitstorm is over.”

Alex felt hot tears prick the back of her eyes. “But-”

There was the sound of shouting behind them, and Bucky swiftly turned around, pointing his rifle at whoever might be coming up at the back. Alex was just about to persuade Bucky to leave her behind when a small group of muddied French soldiers appeared in front of them.

“Do you need help?” A soldier with a thick accent asked.

Bucky nodded wordlessly, gesturing helplessly at Alex. There was a garble of French as two soldier rushed forward, one carrying a med-kit. More French, with bits of stilted, broken English as they examined her wounds. One looked back up at their leader (?) and shook their head.

“We don't have enough to time to treat his wounds here!” The leader shouted in French.

“I'm not leavin’ him here!”

Alex couldn't register what happened afterwards, but she felt several hands lifting her up and hoisting her onto someone's back. Bucky was by her side, constantly urging her to stay conscious. The rain continued to pelt on them relentlessly, like tiny pebbles falling from the sky.

There was a sudden burst of machine gun fire, and Alex saw a flash of blue light beneath her half-closed eyelids. The soldier carrying her dropped to the ground to avoid gunfire, and Alex winced as she tumbled off his back. She opened her eyes fully to see Bucky in a crouch, gripping his rifle, a determined look in his eyes.

He glanced at her, and looked back at the enemy again.

“Get the hell outta here! I’ll hold them off!”

“Sarge! No-” Alex cut herself off, wincing as another wave of pain shot through her arm. Her head throbbed painfully and her vision flickered as she tried to look for Bucky through the thick curtain of rain. Fear flashed through her as there were several gunshot sounds and flashes of blue light.

“James!” She screamed over the thunder, pushing away the soldier who tried to hold her back, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.”Bucky!!”

Another explosion, and Alex stumbled back onto the ground. Sharp pain blossomed out at the back of her head, and everything faded to black.

~

She was roused not long after, but by that time, she was already loaded up on the truck, taken away from the battlefield and back to base. The shrapnel in her arm had already been taken out when she was unconscious, and bandages covered the entire left portion of her face. Her left arm was also similarly bandaged, and the medics said that it was a miracle that there hasn’t been any more damage.

She got a fever from infection the next day, and spent the next two days slipping in and out of consciousness. Her fever broke on the third day, and the group of survivors reached the main base the next day, where Alex and many other soldiers were sent off to the medical tent for further examination and treatment for their injuries.

There would be permanent scarring on her face and arm, and it would take a while to regain full motion of her left arm, but that was the least of Alex’s worries. Bucky had sacrificed himself for her safety, and she hated that. She hated the fact that she injured herself so carelessly, dragging Bucky behind when he could have run on ahead without her. She hated the fact that it was her, an uneducated little runt of a person with absolutely nothing to her name, was alive and not Bucky. She hated the fact that Bucky chose to save her instead of himself. She hated the fact that she even needed to be saved in the first place.

She hated the fact that she was sitting comfortably in a nice little medical tent when there were hundreds of soldiers being held prisoner in German fortresses.

She hated the fact that Colonel Phillips was making no attempt at trying to rescue those prisoners.

Which was why she had dragged herself straight towards the commands tent immediately once she was cleared by the medical team. Bandages and all.

Phillips took one look at Alex’s small stature and mummified face and ordered her to go back to her squad tent before she could say a word. She was surprised that he did not send her back home.

She came back the next morning. Phillips decided to hear her out, and sighed when she proposed to save the prisoners in Krausberg. Needless to say, she was sent back to her tent. She came back in the afternoon.

The next day, the Colonel was red in the face when he found Alex standing in front of him. After several profanities and a threat to send her back home, Alex finally relented and stormed out of the tent in frustration. Just as she was about to exit, the tent flaps opened, and in came a well-built and tall blond, and an extremely beautiful female officer, both slightly drenched from the rain.

Alex felt like she had to snap to a solemn salute when they entered. The man looked like the literal paragon of an American man, freedom and patriotism and righteousness practically oozing out of his veins. And the mere presence of the woman commanded the immediate respect and attention of everyone in the room. She practically had vibes of badassery trailing out after her.

Alex could hear Phillips’ audible sigh from across the tent as the blond headed over towards his desk.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“Well if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan.” Phillips replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What is your plan today?”

The Star-Spangled- what?

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

Alex frowned. Despite the man’s build and height, Alex’s didn’t think that he was a soldier of any sort, let alone a superior officer, so why does he need to know who had died from the battle? She felt a twinge of something as she thought of Bucky again.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

Alex’s eyes widened. How does he know James? She stepped forward, frowning. The man seemed familiar. Where exactly did she see that face before?

Phillips, however, ignored the blond and pointed his pen at the female officer instead.

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy.”

“Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-”

“-I can spell.” Phillips interrupted, irritated.

He got up, and arranged some paperwork in his hands, sighing. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry.”

The determination that was initially on the man’s face immediately melted away into shock and grief, his lips slightly parted for a moment as he took in the news. The female officer looked at him with concern, but he covered his anguish up swiftly.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yes, it’s called winning the war.”

“But sir,” Alex protested, stepping forwards once more. “It’ll be too late by then! At least let me go there and scout out the area, and we’ll be able to-”

“Hale! Shut up!”

The tent was silent. Phillips glared at Alex. “Do you have a death wish, Private?”

Alex lifted her chin and looked back at the old Colonel. “Maybe I do.”

Phillips looked down at his desk and sighed. He got up and pointed at the enormous map pinned up behind him. “The prisoners are being held thirty miles behind the front lines, through one of the most heavily fortified territories in Europe.” He looked back at the blond. “We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl.”

Phillips turned his gaze towards Alex. “We already lost way too many men at Azzano. I don't want to lose anymore for something which is already a lost cause.”

Alex clenched her jaw. The man glanced at her for a moment.

“I think I understand sir.”

“Well then go understand somewhere else.” Phillips sat back behind his desk. “If I read the posters correctly, you have somewhere to be in half an hour.”

The man stared at the map.

“Yes sir, I do.”

Notes:

- “I’ll try to update more often.” I said. “I won’t take too much time to finish the next chapter.” I said. It has been three months.

- Exams are over, and the holidays are here, so hopefully I’ll be able to dedicate more time to this story! I’m not exactly in an encouraging home environment, but things are coming along! Sorry for all the sporadic updates!

- If the tanks/cylinders in a flamethrower is pierced with a bullet, it doesn’t necessarily explode, since what’s inside is flammable liquid, not pressurized gas. It’s only if it is ignited, then the results could be deadly. Alex obviously knew about this, but didn’t expect the blast to be so large. Don’t play with fire.

- Yes, because of her recklessness, Alex got disfigured. @infired606 lost her shit when I told her. Ehehe.

- First chapter with Steve AND Peggy! Cue Bucky groaning in the distance because the two most troublesome and reckless idiots in the world has finally met. Go shave your head, jerk.

- Another chapter uploaded, and now it’s time for me to buckle down and start working on chapter 6! You can hammer me with complaints (and questions and feedback please) in my ask, and taglist is open! Bye!!

Chapter 4  Chapter 6

Masterlist

[viralhottopics]

Im A Millennial Republican And Im Sick Of All The Crying

Let me start by asking: do you remember a time when ones political leanings were a topic kept wholly and unequivocally private? I do. I remember when it was uncouth, improper, and just plain rude to ask someone who they voted for and why outside of intimate family and loved ones. Do you want to know why that was such an excellent practice? Because it didnt drive a stake between you, me, and everyone else. At the end of the day, your take on abortion, on the death penalty, on civil rights these are the innermost things about you. They are very personal opinions. This is part of the reason I am so against the liberal attitude. I dont feel the need to scream my opinions from every abstract rooftop I can find, gathering people to my cause. I also dont feel the need to cast people from my proverbial Olympus when they have (the audacity) to disagree with me or my causes. This past year has been a media circus and a shitshow. Ive long gone quiet as members of my party are painted as racists, bigots, and terrible people. It wasnt enough that the silent majority showed up on Election Day and blew your minds to say were here, were relevant, the Republican personality is still constantly under fire.

I am a young, female Republican that has voted for candidates from both major political parties. And I didnt make that decision blanketed in the ignorance of privilege. Privilege, especially racial privilege, is part of my life certainly. But I have suffered personally the way everyone suffers. And that is an important piece of knowledge to remember. Everyone comes from struggle. No one has a perfect life. Since when did the national currency become sympathy and pity? I have zero let me reiterate ZERO interest in playing the who had the worse life game with people my age. Because, believe me, I could play hardball if I wanted to about individual suffering. But I enjoy my privacy, and my dirty laundry is, unfortunately, none of your business. My struggle is not why people should notice me and remember my life. My sad story doesnt chalk up my measure of relevance. How about my sense of humor? My undying loyalty? My work ethic? Those are the things I want celebrated. Not the fact that Ive survived what Ive survived. And because Ive lived through real trauma, I want that to be the thing that defines me least. Todays democrat seems to be a card carrying member in the belief of youre only as good as what youve overcome, when theyre also championing the hope that one day, no one will have to overcome anything.

I voted for Donald Trump. Not out of choice, but out of necessity. Thats who my party chose as its representative. And, sorry to say it DNC, your party didnt bring a valuable player to the table. Im not going to be star-spangled thrilled for Hillary just because we share the common biological fact of both owning uteruses. Do I LIKE Donald Trump? No, I think hes a big mouth who says stupid things and isnt representative character of what I believe a president should be. But neither was Hillary Clinton. And neither was Barack Obama. In the light of no choice, I made one in the voting booth rather than being inactive.And maybe this is hard for whoever holds the position of POTUS, but I swear to God, there needs to be a stop on the current Commander in Chief rolling over like a pig in shit over the celebrity of the position. Youre not a celebrity you are much, much more than that. Youre our face to the rest of the world. Not a fucking actor or someone who shakes their shit on stage for my amusement. Youre not a star, youre a country. Thats the job you signed up for. Not appearing on fucking Between Two Ferns. Not creating photo ops of you shooting hoops with Steph Curry. Youre more than a meme and more than a dad joke. Act like it. Do you know why I didnt vote for Hillary Clinton? Because she was so goddamn condescending. What, because Im in my twenties, and youre parading Jay-Z and Beyonces endorsement in my face, thats it? Vote won? I dont fucking think so. The absolute last thing I am concerned about when it comes to a president is who star-studded, ZERO political acumen Los-fucking-Angeles is voting for. If the 1% of people who are so removed from financial burden, from prejudice, from hardship of any kind, thinks youre the end all be all of White House potential thats a major red flag for me. The American public and the American millennial is so much more than our likes on Facebook and what we read on Buzzfeed. And if thats not obvious to you, then youre not my candidate. Stop bumping tits with Katy Perry go to fucking Wisconsin.

Socially, Im a liberal person. I love the LGBT and queer community, and they should have every opportunity and every right to be happy in this world, whatever that may be. I believe in racial equality. Just because your ancestors were born closer to the equator than mine (because thats exactly what difference in skin color is) is a non-fucking-entity and should be treated as such. As a professional woman fighting to find a place in corporate America, Im definitely a feminist. I believe women of any and all races are capable, smart, better than the female stereotype, and a million other wonderful things. And you can keep your abortions, too, because I think theyre a necessity for people in special cases. But that doesnt mean abortions are for me. Were literally arguing a matter of life or death here, and just in case the sign-slinging left is wrong when we all meet our maker, Id rather not fall on that side of the line. Our welfare system is a broken, shell of a thing that doesnt find the people that need it and allows itself to be taken advantage of by far too many. I believe in a right to bear arms, because as a survivor of rape and someone who lives in a big city, theres no way Im going through that shit a second time. I believe in a capitalist country where the ceiling is only as high as you settle for, for individual instances of prosperity. The economy is a balancing act, and the more Obama poured his efforts into urban centers (his voters shocker), the more the working class in Middle America suffered.

To me, the prime segregator between a millennial voter of opposing parties boils down to one thing attitude. Far too many people today have their hands out for what they can get for as little effort as possible. Far too many people are bleeding hearts for every sob story. The modern democrat isnt waging a war against Donald Trump, theyre waging a war against a persons choice to be an asshole. If I want to be selfish with the money Ive earned and see as much of it possible in my paycheck, I have that right. If I choose to be uncaring about whatever cause and its GoFundMe than youve posted, thats okay, too. And you can turn your nose up at it as much as you want, but it doesnt stop it from being true. Newsflash, enlightened NYC hipster you are not the only people that exist. Just because you majored in philosophy at Fordham doesnt mean youre some renaissance man. Its fucking disgusting to paint a Republican as uneducated. I have a Masters Degree, and you can suck on it. In their efforts to be a social media vigilante for every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a struggle, the democrats have become the bullies. Theyll shame, troll, and shit on anyone who doesnt think Bernie Sanders is the fucking Messiah. In their efforts to encircle everyone in their warm, squishy embrace, theyve fleshed out an entire stereotype against 304 electoral districts worth of voters. The tables have turned youre the assholes, now. Youre no better than the Duck Dynasty backwater racists you paint most Republicans to be. Ripping down blue ribbons for law enforcement, Facebook status making, weeping on the picket line, crying on each others shoulders in the auditorium, straight up assholes. My struggle doesnt define me. My shortcomings are not my identifiers. I dont need your pity. And when I need your support, Ill ask for it.In the modern Democrats mission for extreme tolerance, theyve become the alienators. So pull your head out of your ass, young blowhard. Take a look around. Its never going to be Kumbaya for the masses. There is no safe space.

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