#Not identifying with your legal name or any name most people call you

[smartzelda]

I am once again thinking of how we never actually see the name that killed L, just his legal name in "Death Note: How to Read".

I'm thinking of Rem ripping out the pages in her death note she'd written on as she turns to dust, taking too the only written instance of name that killed the world's greatest detective, quite possibly as one last act of defiance against Light Yagami. Thinking of how if she hadn't, Light would have read the final name she'd written, kept inside him the knowledge that he's one of the only humans alive to keep the name that L felt was *his* at the day he died. Sure, he could've just attached hard to how he wanted to remember L, but it doesn't take away the fact that it feels as if he *doesn't* know L's name (because with all the focus he had on finding it out it doesn't erase the care he put into finding it)

I'm thinking of L, who's never really identified himself with a name. Not his legal name, given to him by his guardian, nor any of his number of aliases. He might as well have been L Lawliet just as much as he was the detective L, or Eraldo Coil, or Deneuve, or even his brief stint as Hideki Ryuga. He's been called so many names in his life, but doesn't identify with any of them. I'm thinking of the fact that Near and Mello clearly identify themselves as their legal names despite their similar use of aliases, the way that their legal names are explicitly the names needed to kill them. However, with L, we never see his legal name written down in the note nor do we get to see the name floating above his head. Unlike others from a similar background, we don't know the name that killed him, nor does he seem to identify with his legal name.

Of course, this brings up exactly what the name had killed him was, and if it simply was his legal name, why it wasn't just shown as with other characters. For someone who couldn't seem to form an attachment around any of the many names they've been called, I almost wonder if the name that killed him was something secret, played around with in his head, something only he (and someone with the eyes of course) would know.

#l lawliet #death note #A man can have so much trans subtext its unreal #By all means it would have made total sense for him to attach to his legal name‚ seeing that it was given to him by his longest living #guardian and was a substitute to him having none at all and yet #In some ways it almost brings into question how strained his relationship with Watari may have been‚ but also it reeks of subtext #Not identifying with your legal name or any name most people call you #That being said I am also uh lawlight trash so the monkeybrain also shoves all this thought aside and goes 'Okay but wouldn't it be funny #if the name that killed him was like Ryuzaki Yagami or some shit even though that probably doesn't make sense? The pain.' #Idk man I just think it says something that Light seems to never be allowed to know what name killed him‚ that it was never mentioned in #the source material (not even his legal)‚ and that other people from whammy's house in opposition to Light had their names needed to kill #them be their legal names/we get to see the names that killed them #I just be thinking #edit: I should also specify that some of this is canon interpretation while some is like shaping headcanon (for example it's not as if we #*see* Rem tear out any pages or anything but that's just me coming up with a reason as to why he wouldn't have just known L's name after #picking up her note and opening it for the first time)

[ancient-reverie]

plural culture is having multiple different names you actually use irl in public

1 bestie and my dentist call us Cory

1 bestie, some packages, and the internet call us Motley

2 besties, friends, immediate family, the vet, and most packages delivered say Matt/Mat

some vr friends, the internet, the gender clinic we go to, and the rest of the packages use Siruss

and then for anything official like generic medical things, prescriptions, voting, insurance, occasionally mail, and anyone who sees our drivers license uses Emmalyn.

It's wild out here. Especially when we're not whoever's name is being used. Like Cory hardly ever gets to hear his name bc he isn't a huge fan of the dentist (Cory specifically doesn't like medical stuff done to him in general, but we actually love our dentist) and that 1 bestie lives genuinely 1000 miles away.

#hell o void #also yeah thats my real legal/dead name and i dont really plan on changing it. its fine we dont really care lol #names are funny when you're never you to hear it. you just kinda.... react to someone calling to you in a certain tone with a familiar word #but imagine being called any name but your own most of your life. and not in the transgender way. bc you eventually find ppl to call u it #but being called multiple names all the time and none of them are usually your own name. #when ur trans you can eventually settle into a name and get people to start using that one (we did that from emmalyn to matt/mat) #but when you're plural your name changes regularly. and it's usually too much for people around you to switch from one name to another #let alone using multiple names for one body throughout their life and even then how would they know which name to use? #i cant walk around with an identifier of what name to use bc half the time WE DONT KNOW EITHER #and usually its more than one out at a time anyways #hey this one

[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

Networking

Shiu Kong x Fem Reader

TW: fancy party, yakuza, nicknames (sweetheart, doll, and princess), size kink if you squint, Shiu call reader a bimbo, sexually suggestive. MDNI. Not beta read. 

A/N: This wasn’t my originally planned Shiu fic, lol, but since the other one was taking so long and I felt bad, I hope you’ll enjoy this one for now!

Upon meeting a cute scientist at a party, Shiu feels as though his night might not be so boring after all. 

Word count: 1.3k

Shiu hated parties like this. Extravagant mixers of Japan’s most influential upper echelon and people like himself trying to make connections. The lights were blinding as he surveyed the room from the balcony just above the main dance floor. It was a sea of sparkling dresses and dark suits. The band played classical melodies that, while skilled, were far from what Shiu enjoyed listening to. He tried to ground himself, ‘Remember, you’re here to meet potential clients.’ He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket feeling the little stack of business cards he always brought to events. ‘It’s routine at this point’ Shiu reminds himself, taking a deep breath in, and forcing himself to step into the crowd of people surrounding him.

Over the years he had gotten pretty good at identifying who was his likely clientele at parties like this where the legal and illegal businesses melted together. His first target was a balding man in his late fifties with a much younger woman, presumably an escort, clinging to his arm. He recognized this man as Mr. Moto, an executive of a slightly lower yakuza family in charge of arms smuggling. Casually making his way over, he introduced himself, “Hello Mr. Moto. My name is Kong Shiu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  The man grinned slightly, clearly pleased to have been recognized. “What is it that you do Mr. Kong?” Mr. Moto inquired, getting straight to the point. Shiu did not mind though, he appreciated not drawing out these kinds of interactions. “I’m a mediator of sorts. If you have a job that’s maybe a little too messy to do yourself, I find someone suited for it and ensure that it all goes smoothly.” Mr. Moto hummed in approval. “Here’s my card.” Shiu reached into his jacket pocket and handed one of the little rectangles over. “My contact information is on there.” Just like that, the conversation was over and the two men parted ways. On to the next.

He talked to person after person until he lost count. Each exchange lasted less than ten minutes, but they were undeniably draining. Trying to entertain clients had always been stressful for him, and networking was the same. The lights, loud music, and claustrophobic atmosphere were not helping. ‘God, I need a smoke.’ Desperate to clear his head a little, Shiu started down the grand staircase hoping to be able to slip outside and light up a cigarette before having to return and continue schmoozing.

As he made it to the edge of the dance floor, the final obstacle between him and his nicotine fix, someone caught his eye.  

You were turned in such a way that the mediator could only see half of your face while you engaged in conversation with someone he didn't recognize. He couldn't explain why he felt drawn to you, maybe it was the way your dress hugged your body or the aura you seemed to radiate but his plan to take a smoke break was quickly abandoned as he slipped through the elegantly dressed crowd.

He stayed back a bit so that he was within earshot of your discussion yet not obviously eavesdropping. You hadn't seemed like an escort, and based on your lack of a wedding ring, you probably weren't a trophy wife. Shiu’s intuition proved itself to be correct as he tuned into the exchange, focusing on your sweet voice. “So, in summary, our lab is using CRISPR to study genes implicated in neurodevelopmental disorders. If you would like to reach out to my PI with any more questions about what we are doing or how to donate, here’s his contact information.” He watched as you handed the man a card, shook his hand, and said goodbye. Once the stranger was out of sight you closed your eyes and let out a little sigh, your shoulders visibly relaxing. He decided to seize this opportunity to approach you, “Need a break, sweetheart?” Shiu was now standing in front of you, a playful smirk on his face. Your face was even more beautiful up close. “My name is Kong Shiu, who might you be?” You were quiet for a minute, looking up at him he could see the flicker of surprise in your eyes before you returned his smile. “Mr. Kong-” “Just call me Shiu.” “Well, Shiu, you can call me (y/n).” “forgive me if I'm jumping to conclusions, but it seems like you could use a break from the mingling.” He studied your face, trying to read your reaction to his words. To his relief, your features softened. “You have no idea.” Shiu was honestly a little surprised at how well this was going. Using the confidence he had gained thus far, he extended his hand out to you and asked “Would you care to dance?” Now it was his turn to be surprised as you confidently placed your hand in his much larger one. “Lead the way.”

And that he did. Carefully guiding you through the masses until you two were on the dance floor slightly removed from the other dancing couples. When he was satisfied with the location, he pulled you closer to his chest and took your other hand, once again admiring how small it was compared to his. You two began swaying just as everyone else appeared to be doing.

“So, Shiu” your voice trailed off for a moment. He couldn't help but notice that you seemed nervous now, which was funny compared to how boldly you had accepted his offer earlier. Maybe it was the close proximity. Your eyes finally met him and you continued, “What business do you have here with the wealthy elites?” He chuckled softly, taking note of the way your muscles tensed in reaction to feeling the reverberations in his chest against your body. “I suppose I'm a mediator. I help facilitate certain exchanges and such.” You nodded your head in understanding. “What about you, Doll?” the tips of your ears were dusted a soft pink upon hearing the nickname. “I'm a research scientist.”

“Then shouldn't you be in the lab? I mean, what's a smart girl like you doing at a party like this?” The blush had now spread to your cheeks and you looked flustered at his words. ‘I wonder how cute her reaction would be if I was praising her for taking my cock?’ he mentally cursed himself, this was not the time to be thinking about that. “Well, my PI believes that it is easier to attract funding from these older men,” you used your head to gesture around the room, “if it's a younger woman who talks to them. Not my favorite business model, but I do need that money. Science is expensive.” You frowned as you said the last part.

“Want me to help take your mind off of it?” Shiu inquired, genuinely wondering if he could ease your mind. Seeing you frown made his heart ache a little. Thankfully his offer seemed to perk you up and a mischievous glimmer appeared in your eyes as you pressed your body flush onto his. He could feel your tits through his dress shirt. So this is how you wanted to behave? Well, two could play that game. His arms slid down your waist, trapping you against his hips and making you aware of the growing bulge in his slacks. Your face was once again bright pink as you registered Shiu’s clothed erection. Your brain was frozen and unable to speak. All you could do was look up at him, eyes wide. “Want me to make you my little bimbo for tonight, princess?” His voice was deep and seductive. You nodded your head fervently, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand. He couldn't help but chuckle at your empty-headed neediness. As you led him away into one of the bathrooms, he thought to himself, ‘Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad.’

#jjk x reader #tw yakuza #shiu kong #shiu kong x reader #shiu x reader

[librarycards]

Is there a word for like, the phenomena of many people in academia positions calling themselves "anti psychiatry" but having a really shallow take on it that is openly reactionary and hostile to disabled people. Like they'll say "adhd isn't real" not in a "the way mad people critique and reformulate concepts of adhd takes precedence over the way the medical establishment does" way but in a "stop whining addict you are not medically corrupt but morally corrupt" way that is really obviously hostile to the self-actualization of the disabled. Or they have tunnel vision on deligitimizing all pharmaceuticals. Which seems like a very unthorough and flawed way to critique the medical industrial complex. Companies are lying about drugs, mis-prescribing them, AND with-holding them. You can't just ignore the last one. Entire countries are held hostage by threat of pharmaceutical copyright embargo, and these types could care less. Anyway what's their deal. They seem like fash wellness types in "anti psychiatry" clothing.

this is a dangerous pov that has been embedded in the antipsych movement for a very long time, and continues to be perpetuated by people whose antipsych scholarship doesn't have a strong disability studies conceptual framework. the most (in)famous figure representative of these views is Thomas Szasz, who believed, in short, that "mental illness" was an abdication of patient "personal responsibility" and an excuse for "malingering." He correctly identified mental illness as a sociocultural + medico-legal construct, but chose to blame persons experiencing psychosocial distress/difference for the insufficiency and danger of pathologizing labels, rather than the structural violence that undergirds both discourses and material realities of what is understood as "mental illness."

Personally, I think that this genealogy of antipsychiatry is libertarian in origin, distinct, though not disconnected, to bodymind fascism / wellness-reductionism. Szasz and his ilk are notable in that they believe/d in absolute bodily autonomy and self-determination, with the caveat that such autonomy is predicated upon the absence of social supports for people experiencing distress, and on the absence of compassion for those using violent language in an attempt to make sense of their lived experiences. The reason that I make this distinction is that Szasz is Jewish, and fled Hungary for the US in the 30s. He made the (correct) connection between the Nazi genocide of "undesirables" (including psychiatric patients) and state classification, incarceration, and "slow" genocide of Madppl globally and transtemporally.

But to return to your question: with this, as with pharmaceuticals, there is a fundamental discomfort at all levels of scholarship and discourse with identifying neoliberal capitalism as the enemy of self-determination, joy, community, and, like, an actual future for all life on this planet and beyond. The claim that pharmaceuticals are uniformly evil is a hackneyed way of attacking capitalism for those not yet ready or willing to acknowledge that, even absent a given pill or brand name, the structural violence that we associate with them would remain and simply morph. The fundamental danger of any and all medical "treatment," particularly that which involves significant alteration to an individual's bodymind and/or potential incapacitation, is that medico-psychiatric institutions function as zones of exception for many of the "rights" we are taught that we enjoy. Under the sign of patient, typical assumptions around autonomy, dignity, and equality –– while never fully existent in the first place –– completely vanish. Of course, it is far easier to blame individual people, companies, etc. than understand that disabled/Mad liberation will never exist without total abolition.

Equally, however, it's important to understand that "academics" discussing the abuses of big pharma or questioning the ontology of mental illness, as it were, are not somehow magically separated from psychiatric survivors. The academics dismissed as being unaware of the "real" struggles of psychiatrized people are oftentimes psychiatrized themselves, and their perspectives, writings, and movements are grounded in lived experience. People with academic degrees are not immune from emotional reactions rooted in trauma and anxiety, and in fact, to try to separate "emotion" from academic "reason" is a dangerous eurocolonial practice. In short: many who write, correctly, of the dangers of pharmaceutical companies and practitioner pocket-lining are and have been subjected to these abuses firsthand. This doesn't mean that a wholesale rejection of all medication is, like, "good." But it means that scholars are people –– people with more specialized knowledge in a given area than your average random person, but people nonetheless.

So, to conclude: there are a bunch of things going on that lead to the pervasiveness of reactionary antipsych perspectives. Sometimes, in the case of libertarian or fash (to say nothing of religiously-specific fascism) approaches, there is a willful refusal to distinguish pathologization from material need/suffering, and the assumption that eliminating diagnostic markers will simply neutralize the problem of mental illness-qua-human vulnerability. Other times, conscious objection to myriad genres of oppression under the (neoliberal capitalist) Med/Psy industrial complexes are shoehorned in with these reactionary approaches.

Overall, there are longstanding movements designed to oppress/abandon/eliminate disabled / Madppl in which scholars, wittingly and unwittingly, participate, and given the average joe's utter ignorance of any kind of antipsych thought, it is very difficult to address these issues with rigor and honesty.

Lastly –– I highly recommend doing more reading in critical Mad studies if you're interested in well-thought-out perspectives on Madness, antipsychiatry, and disability justice! Scholars like Liat Ben-Moshe, Jijian Voronka, Margaret Price, La Mar Jurelle Bruce, J. Logan Smilges, sarah madoka currie, Bren LeFrançois, Alexandre Baril, Cameron Awkward-Rich, Eric Stanley, Therí Alyce Pickens, Erica Hua Fletcher, and many others do incredible Mad work explicitly informed by disability and abolitionst frameworks! (and so do I –– at least, I'm trying!)

#antipsychiatry #saneism #ableism #psychiatry #eugenics m #nazi m #ask #anonymous #academia

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Boss - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES PEOPLE HAVE TO SAY THIS SHIT

Warnings: Bodyguard AU; Power Imbalance; Seemingly One-Sided Attraction; Not Necessarily Healthy Dynamics; Power Struggle; Implied Age Gap (Still VERY MUCH Legal); References to Stabbing; References to Death Threats; Referenced Nudity/Showers; Light Angst; Longing; Reader is a Bit of a Brat; Bradley Suffers; Female Reader with No Name or Identifying Description, No Y/N

Summary: You and your bodyguard, Rooster, are at odds when he tries to keep you locked in the safe house.

Part 2

Master List

It wasn’t like you asked to be the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. Your father was known internationally and so was the rest of your family by extension. With all of the fame, money, and power, of course, came the added side effects. Like the threats against your life, since you were your father’s only child after all.

Enter Bradley. Or Rooster as you were supposed to call him whenever you communicated via comms or within earshot of anyone else.

After several threats against your life, your father hired Bradley as your personal bodyguard. He was a part of the revered Iron Daggers, an underground squad of the most elite fighters that the world didn’t know about. Not the general public anyways. 

The Iron Daggers had a reputation of pulling of the impossible. Of always protecting their targets and getting them out of whatever horrible situation in the end. And when your father contacted Maverick, the leader of the Iron Daggers, he sent Rooster.

The best of the best apparently.

And the best looking bodyguard you had or would ever have for the rest of your life.

Hell, you were only human. Rooster or Bradley, as you tended to call him when you were alone, which was often, was tall with a broad, muscled frame that you wouldn’t mind on top of you. His hair and eyes a light chestnut brown that just reeked of homey. And he was quite possibly the only man who you thought could pull off that mustache and somehow become more attractive as a result.

But there were rules. No fraternization or whatever. As if locking you up with just an absolute stud of a man was supposed to prevent you from falling for him.

Spoiler—it had the opposite effect.

But Bradley, ever the professional, never gave into any of your comments or you glances. The most he would do would be to smile sweetly at you and then go straight back to work. And fuck it was getting old. And embarrassing. But, of course, that didn’t stop your mind from wandering or your eyes.

Even on that night, when surrounded by the richest and most powerful people in the world who were all dressed to impress, you were staring at Bradley. He was never more than five steps from you and even if you didn’t have a staring problem, it would have been near impossible for you to be unable to find him.

Finding Bradley’s gaze deviating into the crowd, you couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

A man dressed in a suit that you knew was expensive, was clearly walking towards you through the crowd. You didn’t recognize the man, but you were sure that he knew who you were based on how he looked at you. Not stressed in the slightest, you turned to your right as you felt a gentle hand on the small of your back. In an instant, Bradley was right by your side, putting himself in between you and the approaching man.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Bradley asked, causing your smile to immediately brighten.

“Yes, you may,” you agreed, practically beaming up at Bradley. 

He looked absolutely dashing in his suit, which was pressed and tailored to fit him perfectly. He was here under the guise of being a wealthy businessman and he seemed to play the part perfectly. He offered you his hand, which you took gently, and the two of you headed over to the bar together. Bradley ordered a drink for you and a glass of water for himself before turning to you. He leaned forward, causing your breath to hitch as his lips and the edges of his mustache brushed against your ear.

"Did you recognize him?" Rooster asked, talking about the man who tried to approach you.

"No," you replied, your eyes fluttering closed as you brushed your cheek against his own. "I don't. But I'm not worried about him."

"I'll be the judge of that."

And in an instant, the warmth from Bradley was gone. He was back in his protective body guard mode and nothing that she could do or would do would be able to break that concentration.

The two of you grabbed your drinks from the bar, after quick tampering checks, walked over to one of the tables in the corner. Bradley sat down and angled himself so that he could see the party, but you were entirely focused on him. And hell, anyone who was staring at you could have seen that the only person you had on your mind was Bradley.

It was a poorly concealed crush that was quickly getting a bit out of hand. After all, Bradley was a handful of years older than you and there was no way that your relationship would survive in ‘the real world.’ Though, you didn't care about that. But you knew that Bradley would never break and cross that line. He’d been in this business since he was eighteen. He wouldn’t crack. 

So, you just kept tugging on the possibilities of a fabricated school girl crush to try and keep some kind of sanity in the mess you called your life. 

“Why are you so tense?” you whispered to Bradley, grabbing his hand. “There’s security everywhere. We’re fine.”

“There’s security, but they’re not watching you.”

Taking a sip of your drink, you glanced out at the crowd once again, particularly the dance floor. Feeling a bit emboldened, you hurried to sip down the rest of your drink before hopping up from your seat. 

“Come on. Let’s dance,” you stated, holding out your hand to Bradley. 

“What?”

“I want to dance. So, let’s dance,” you replied as if it was a normal request. 

“But,” Bradley started to protest. 

“Please,” you whispered, which instantly caused his resolve to buckle. 

“Okay, but I’m keeping an eye out.”

“I know. I’ll take it,” you responded, taking Bradley’s hand. 

Pulling him up, you led him out onto the dance floor. A slower and more elegant song was playing, so you rested a hand on Bradley’s shoulder and held his hand. Bradley placed a hand on your waist at a respectful height and swayed with you to the music, though his eyes were always looking out at the crowd. 

Sighing, you tried to get him to glance down at you for even a moment, but Bradley always took his job seriously and put it first. Really, you shouldn't complain since his attention was meant to protect you and make sure you woke up the next morning. But sometimes, you just wanted to forget all of that.

Resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes and just swayed, trying to make the most of the moment. And unbeknownst to you, that subtle touch worked. 

Bradley, once he felt your head on his chest, broke his stare out at the room and turned to you. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t notice his stare, but a few moments later, you felt his thumb rub circles in your hip. Smiling softly, you listened to Bradley’s heartbeat and enjoyed the moment. Just when Bradley started to rest his head on top of your own, a scream echoed through the room. 

In an instant, Bradley was on alert. Wrapping his arm protectively around your waist, he spun you away from the source of the scream. The both of you glanced quickly through the crowd to see what the commotion was about and gasped when you spotted a man with a knife sticking out of his chest. 

You didn’t even have time to scream yourself before Bradley pulled you out of the room. 

~~~~~

“That’s it. No more of those stupid parties,” Bradley stated as the two of you returned to the safe house. 

You got away cleanly and the security checks were complete. You were safe. Bradley did his job and got you out of there in one piece. But Bradley was kicking himself the whole way back to the safe house. He should have gotten you out of the room faster. What if you were the intended target? Hell, he shouldn’t have let you out in the first place. 

You were silent the whole drive home and Bradley had wrapped his jacket around your shoulders when you couldn’t help but shiver. The image of the stabbed man was still fresh in your mind and you were still in a bit of shock. Your bare feet padded on the cold concrete floor as your heels hung from Bradley’s hand. 

“That’s the last time we leave here for anything pointless,” Bradley vowed, holding the door open for you. 

But his words seemed to startle you back to reality. Flickering your gaze up to his hardened stare, you frowned lightly. 

“So, I’m just locked away in here?” you whispered out.

“Until it’s safe,” he replied firmly, not even turning to look at you. 

“Don’t I get a say in this?” you demanded, raising your voice a little. 

“Sure. Do you want to live?” Rooster asked sarcastically, causing you to purse your lips together and glare at him. 

“So, I’m just your prisoner now?”

“I’m pretty sure that prisoners aren’t supposed to pay their captors,” Rooster replied with a bit of an attitude, causing you to scoff. “Look, it’s simple. You go out and you’re in danger. So, you’ll stay here where it’s safe.”

You took a step towards Bradley, glaring up at him. Bradley stared down at you evenly and even though you couldn’t quite pick up on it, his self-control was dangerously close to slipping. Your eyes bore into Bradley’s soul as your lips curled into a scowl. 

“You can’t keep me here forever. I’m not a prisoner. And I’m certainly not yours.”

Slipping off his jacket from around your shoulders, you shoved it into his chest before turning and storming off to your room. Bradley grabbed his jacket before it could fall to the ground and watched you as you stormed away from him, trying to not focus on the sensual sway of your hips or the subtle jiggle of your ass.

Gulping thickly, Bradley turned back to the monitors and focused on the task at hand. He gripped the table harshly, reminding himself why he was here. 

He was supposed to protect you. And he almost failed at his job tonight. You could have been hurt because he wasn’t paying attention. And he wouldn’t let himself slip again.

~~~~~ 

You were furious. Absolutely furious with Bradley.

He managed to convince your family that it was safer for you to stay in the safe house or at least a safe house than to go out. And before you could even wake up the next morning, any lick of freedom was taken away from you. The chances to see your friends and family? Gone. Unless they went through the thirty security steps to come visit you in the safe house. Any chance to do anything outside of the safe house sans emergencies? Gone.

You were livid. 

Storming downstairs in the compound, your bare feet padded against the polished concrete floors. You knew exactly where to find Bradley since he still sent you texts about where he was located in the house for safety procedures. You were still dressed in your pajamas, shorts and a tee shirt that actually belonged to Bradley, since you read through your texts with your family while brushing your teeth that morning. 

Forcing your way into the gym, you stormed over to where Bradley was working out, pumping some large dumbbells as music played in the background. Grabbing the remote, you shut off the music, causing Bradley to drop the dumbbells and whip around just in time to catch your positively irate expression.

“Where the hell do you get off!?” you demanded, poking him harshly in the middle of his chest. 

“You heard?” Bradley guessed, looking almost bored with the situation. 

“Of course, I heard! You tattletale!” 

“They requested a status update and I gave them one. It’s not my fault that they agree with me,” Bradley stated, earning a sharp glare from you. 

“Do you want me to go crazy in here?”

“You have every kind of entertainment that a person could possibly need—”

“—I am trapped with only one other person, who just happens to treat me like a child incapable of making their own decisions, in this stupid prison that I never asked for!” you yelled, causing Bradley to pause. “Of course, I’m going crazy! Stop treating me like I’m some delicate baby! And it wouldn’t kill you to listen to me for once!”

Without another word, you stormed out of the gym and headed back to your bedroom. Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair. He paced a bit, wanting to go back to the workout that he started. But the second that he sat back down, he was standing up again, your disappointed and betrayed expression stuck in his mind.

Bradley walked through the halls, knowing from the security updates on his watch, that you returned to your bedroom. Reaching the door, he knocked lightly on the bulletproof material, letting it echo for a moment before he called your name. 

“What?” you called back, clearly annoyed. 

“Can we talk?”

“Fine. Come in.”

Bradley opened the door, letting it close behind him as he straightened up. But when he finally looked up, he practically stumbled to the floor at the sight of you. 

You were in the middle of tying your hair back and glanced over at Rooster from where you were sitting in front of your mirror. The clothes that you were wearing when you stormed into the gym to confront him were laid out on your bed. And what were you wearing?

A towel. A simple folded fluffy cream-colored towel was all that protected your modesty from his gaze.

“Well?” you demanded, seemingly unfazed by your state of undress.

In actuality, heat was subtly crawling up your neck when you caught the subtle dip of Bradley’s gaze to the tops of your breasts and then your thighs. But in the split second between Bradley’s knock and your answer, you were feeling overwhelmingly petty. And hell, if you were sick of being trapped in this place without any kind of escape, you assumed Bradley was just as pent up as you were.

And, well, you assumed that Bradley—the professional that he was—wouldn’t dare look at you or touch you and compromise his job. So, it was a quiet and not-so-subtle jab back at him for being such as ass and locking you in the safe house.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Bradley asked, staring up at the ceiling awkwardly before turning back to you.

“Calm down, Captain Chastity, I’ve got a towel on,” you huffed, holding the towel together to prove your point. “And I was going to take a shower until you interrupted me.”

“Then why did you let me in here?” Rooster demanded, annoyance seeping into his tone.

“You wanted to talk and I wanted to get it over with,” you replied, standing up from your vanity.

Feeling a bit emboldened by the fact that Bradley wouldn’t even look at you when you were in this state, and in need of taking some kind of control in your life, you stood up and padded over to where Bradley was standing in your room.

His jaw was set harshly, making his jawline appear all the more sharp. Veins popped off of his neck due to how tightly he was holding his jaw shut. His cheeks were colored by perhaps rage or embarrassment or a mix of both. But he kept his gaze on your eyes. Never once breaking and glancing down to stare at the more scandalous views you. And well, if he wanted to play that game, you would play that game. This was a battle of wills and you weren’t going to crack first.

“I’m not your prisoner, Rooster,” you warned him. "You're not the boss of me."

"I'm just trying to do my job. Stop making it so difficult," Bradley shot back, staring you down.

In a flash of defiance and reflection of just how pent up you felt, you reached up and grabbed the fold of your towel. A quick flick of your wrist and the fabric gave way. Bradley, ever the professional, averted his eyes and stared at the ceiling as your towel pooled on the ground.

"Is that difficult enough for you?" you huffed, setting your hands on your now bare hips.

Staring up at him as he refused to move and look at you, you took two steps towards him, feeling more emboldened than before. Bradley noticeably tensed as you drew closer to him and raised yourself up on your toes to whisper in his ear.

“You can’t keep me locked in here forever," you vowed, causing Bradley's jaw to lock. "You're not the boss of me."

Bradley stayed where he was as you walked into your bathroom and started the shower. It wasn’t until he heard your shower door slide shut that he lowered his gaze away from the ceiling. Breathing heavily and now absolutely red in the face, Bradley glanced down to see your towel on the ground. Shuddering, he turned and stumbled out of your room.

He was about to turn for the gym before changing his mind and heading for his own bedroom instead. Slamming the door shut behind him, Rooster quickly locked the door behind him before heading for the shower himself. He wasted no time in cranking the shower to ice cold and shoving himself under the spray.

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the death of him.

Part 2

#tgm #top gun #tgm fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster top gun #rooster #top gun rooster

[battle-subway-ghost]

[There's an article being posted around online. Click it?]

Down The Buneary Hole Of The Team Fauna Cult

—

Team fauna is a proclaimed religious group, founded and formed by a man under the name of Wolf Fauna and located in a cavern outside of Olivine City, Johto. This group claims that the world depicted in the hit franchise Animals is real, and that ours is a false reality.

Seemingly innocent on the surface, Team fauna claims to wish to bring people towards enlightenment, all all while they "simply wish to live the way Fauna intended," specifically out of their way to state "We commit no crimes, harm nothing and no one."

Despite these claims to innocence, a further look into the actions and practices of this organization reveals a twisted world of kidnapping, abuse, brainwashing, and manipulation. This work hopes to shine light on the inner workings of Team Fauna and the recent events surrounding it.

Team Fauna pushed itself into the public eye on January 30th, as a strange invitation spread itself to many users of the website Rotumblr, reading as follows:

"Are you a seeker of the truth?

If you're receiving this message we believe you are.

Have you ever truly considered the convinces of this world, or are you still asleep

What if you had a change to escape it all, to live a real life, instead of the one you have taken.

You could reach fulfilment. Happiness. Many have.

With us you will know the truth.

To continue living in the dark is a common choice, but you may be one of the few who deviate.

We await your response with anticipation

Team Fauna"

February 1st, Team Fauna made their own blog on Rotumblr. Following this decision, many allegations arose soon after, many noticing hidden cries for help in the anonymous moderator's replies to inquiries, and eventually, a photo of a Galvantula in highly abusive conditions was uploaded, which was quickly connected to Team Fauna.

These incidents are what sparked a deeper investigation of the group; starting at Olivine City, the closest city to their alleged location. Many missing persons, primarily those reported to have gone hiking in the nearby routes, were reported, their missing posters strewn around the city.

Team Fauna itself resided in a cave and its surrounding woods far off the beaten path near Olivine City. Upon joining their group, it appears that many, if not all new members are asked to leave any partner Pokemon they may have behind prior to joining. This leaves new members far less likely to be able to confront any of the designated "guards" of the team, who are granted access to far more powerful Pokemon than other members.

Furthermore, upon initiation into this group, your name will be replaced, as you're instead given the name of one of the creatures from Animals. This makes it difficult to identify most members, as their names cannot be connected to any legal records.

Connection to the outside world is limited, if not entirely restricted. Many children are born into the cult, isolated from any sort of opposition to Team Fauna's ideals. It is unlikely that these children have legal documentation such as birth certificates.

However, the investigation goes deeper yet.

February 5th, A 17-year old named Sprite Chroma is incapacitated and kidnapped by members of Team Fauna. A bonfire is lit by Wolf Fauna, a celebration begins, and after the so-called festivities, a meeting is called.

During this meeting, Team Fauna's leader announced plans to open a cross-dimensional portal to their desired reality. Sprite Chroma is dragged in front of the crowd, and Wolf announces that he would be the first to cross through to the new world they all desired.

Over the next 15 hours, preparations were made for the ritual that would be performed soon. A member of Team Fauna took custody of the victim's phone in order to impersonate it to its friends and family.

Hour 15. 11 AM. "The last day in this world," as it was put by many in the cult. The ritual is prepared, Sprite dragged out of their cell for a second time. Wolf Fauna exits his cabin, bringing along a covered cage. As the ritual is set into action, the cloth is pulled, revealing that Team Fauna had not only found, but captured a Celebi, an elusive Mythical pokemon revered across Johto.

Celebi is forced to open a portal, but the plan goes awry. not long after the victim is forced inside, they are seemingly rejected, being spat back out, and destabilizing the portal, causing it to disappear.

Minutes after, the meeting is invaded. Many of Team Fauna's members escaped in the chaos, although it appears that the majority of the hostages and stolen Pokemon have been recovered.

As of now, the whereabouts of Wolf Fauna and other prominent members of Team Fauna are unknown. It is more than likely that they will regroup if given the time. Evidence strongly suggests that if left unchecked, the Team Fauna cult could very likely reach levels of danger comparable to that of Team Plasma or Team Galactic. We cannot let history repeat itself once again.

The author of the article appears to be remaining anonymous, save for the name "Lotus I."

#Team Fauna #cult tw #kidnapping tw #abuse tw #pokemon mistreatment tw #manipulation tw #pokemon harm tw #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #rotumblr #rotomblr #pokemon rp #pokeblogging #pokemon roleplay #irl pkmn #irl pokemon #<- HEED THE TAGS! PLEASE! #// reposted. Without the bad evil links tumblr hates me for. Hopefully. #// if not im just going to delete this whole account. goodbye everyone </3 (JOKE JOKE JOKE) #// anyways uhhh. old tags tl;dr. Feel free to acknowledge this IC its made to be IC just not On this blog specifically #// all links lead to the source of the information being relayed here (even if its ooc I am giving people CONTEXT i love context) #// annnd the dates used here (not necessarily times) are from my POV. because im not calculating timezones im not fucking doing that #// edit: I may be stupid. I have xkit hiding my own posts. but it only does that to me in tags when I have spent over an hour on something #- and am therefore proud of it. Im being tormented by my fucking browser extension

[communistkenobi]

Hey! I really like your blog, and always really enjoy learning more about some of the interesting topics you cover! I was wondering if you have an opinion on people wanting to identify specifically using a lower case spelling of their name, instead of capitalizing the proper noun. This isnt for me, and I'm definitely not looking for a "right or wrong" answer, just genuinely wanted to hear your take on it.

Before I answer I don’t think there’s a single answer or reason why people choose to not capitalise their names. I’m not privy to larger discussions of why people might do this (bell hooks is probably the most famous example), but I’m friends with someone who has chosen not to capitalise her name and it’s made me think about the practice a lot!

I think the first place to start is that a lower case name is meant to be read - you do not pronounce lower capitalisation. this gives context to how and where you encounter a lower capitalised name. They may appear on your legal documents, of course, but also through authorship, online profiles, print media, etc. is there a particular audience or social context that you want to confront with your un-capitalised name?

I use the word confront deliberately, because lower case names challenge people - I don’t think we would be talking about it if it didn’t, but the obvious question is why. My instinct is that it is an attempt to de-centre the individual, and this is what people are reacting to. We do not capitalise pronouns, for example, because they are interchangeable amongst many people - gendered pronouns are used as a standard way to refer to people because the assumption underlying them is that gender is the most important (and only) consideration when referring to someone by something other than their name. Pronouns are not neutral, they are a deeply contested and politically animating part of everyday language. In a similar way, I think choosing not to capitalise your name could be a gesture towards this interchangeability and the contested nature of gendered referral, to emphasise that you are not an individual but a subject within a set of social and political circumstances. A name is a summary of yourself - your deeds, your personality, your art, your beliefs, and so on. It’s why we call it Marxism, it’s why people refer to “Reaganomics,” “the Kubrick stare,” etc - there is a discursive process happening by summarising particular beliefs or actions in the world by a person’s name. Refusing to capitalise your name can be a resistance to this automatic and unremarked upon process of summary, to prompt people to ask why this is the way we do things (as opposed to referring to the effects these actions or beliefs have on the world, their content, their technique, or whatever else - why is the individual given primacy when naming ideologies, policy regimes, and artistic practices when these are all products of historical, political, and social processes far larger than any one person? Did these men make these histories, or are they only the figureheads, and if so, why?)

It also calls attention to the fact that capitalisation is also a choice - one of the first things I thought about when my friend stopped capitalising her name was why I was still choosing to capitalise mine. What conventions am I holding onto, and are they actually important to me? What is it about my name that requires this kind of sacred or authoritative treatment? I refuse to capitalise the word god primarily because I refuse to imbue the word with any sort of authority or respect - what authority would I be resisting or giving up if I were to refuse to capitalise my own name? Is there a kind of self-disrespect happening, or am I disrespecting the linguistic and grammatical conventions where capitalised names arise and are considered normal? What parts of myself and my identity are removed or revealed by refusing to capitalise my name? If something so normal and mundane may be contested in a similarly mundane way, what other linguistic possibilities open up to us? 

My familiarity with this practice is one that is deliberately political, in the sense that the uncapitalised name reveals something that is normally hidden - these could be linguistic conventions, societal norms, ideas about individuality, and so on. I think the practice is very cool and prompts a lot of productive discomfort with everyday linguistic and social practices. It also pisses off conservatives and I think that alone is evidence that this is a practice worth pursuing, that this decision is actually not trivial at all and reveals a larger network of political and social ideas about personhood 

#asks #book club

[thegreenleavesofspring]

By the way, when I say that the American church has FAILED, this is what I'm talking about:

The email I sent to Focus on the Family a couple weeks ago, identifying information redacted:

Hello,

My name is [redacted] and I followed a link to one of your website's articles - about Biblical discipline - and saw the massive donation solicitation banner at the top of the website, saying any donations would go to families in need.

My mother is very much in need.

She is 61 and severely disabled, mentally and physically. In 2016 she had a stroke, which type has a 70% death rate and of the remaining 30%, the vast majority never recover any cognitive or physical function. She is a medical outlier in that she recovered both - through odds so astronomical it is a blatant miracle she survived at all - to some degree. But now her cognitive abilities are declining, as well as her mobility and eyesight: she is effectively 100% disabled.

She is also currently undergoing an eviction since she can no longer pay rent. She had planned to move into her car, but earlier this week it had an oil/engine failure that will require about $7,000 of work to repair. Her insurance would pay for it, save that she has a $1,000 deductible she cannot afford.

She gets $914 a month in disability.

I am a single mother of three boys five and under; my husband has walked out on us and does not pay child support and I cannot get any legal division to enforce it. I make $1,000 a month, and also do not own a car or have any sort of transportation. I order her groceries online and try to get small expenses for her when I can, and that is the most aid I am currently able to offer.

Right now she just needs her car repaired. But we do not have $1,000 for that deductible.

We have spent weeks calling every phone number and resource in the area and even the state. The churches send us to the government, the government sends us to the NGOs, the NGOs send us to the churches. No one helps.

Your website claims you help families. I looked under the "get help" tab and found nothing of any use, hence this email.

Will you help my family?

Sincerely,

~~~~

I got this in return:

Dear [Redacted],

Thank you for writing to Focus on the Family. Your willingness to share your concerns means a lot to us, and we want you to know we care about you, your dear mother, and your children. 

Our hearts are heavy after reading about the serious financial problems your disabled mother is facing right now. We’re especially concerned to hear that her car has broken down and she has no place to call home. Though we realize you’ve already asked for assistance from churches and a number of organizations, we recommend you contact the Salvation Army. You can visit their website at: Salvation Army: Housing and Homeless Services. We’d also like to mention three more online sources of information: National Coalition for the Homeless,  2-1-1 Get Help,  Catholic Charities USA. We can’t guarantee that they will be able to provide the help you need, nor can we say with certainty that they consistently uphold Christian values and ethics. Nevertheless, we think it would be worthwhile to find out what services are available. Please note that our mentioning these organizations should not be taken as an endorsement by our ministry.

Be assured we’re praying for the Lord to comfort your mother, provide for her many needs, and lead her to a safe place to live. We’re also asking God to surround you and your three young sons with caring people who will offer their support and help you in practical ways. 

Along with praying for you, we invite you to call the Christian counselors on our staff if you think it might be helpful to discuss your concerns with caring professionals. They might be able to offer additional suggestions and useful referral information. To reach them, please call 1-855-771-HELP (4357) any weekday between 6:00 A.M. and 8:00 P.M. (MT). Someone on our staff will ask for your name and phone number in order to arrange for a counselor to return your call as soon as they’re able. This service is available at no cost to you.

[Redacted], we understand you contacted our ministry because you saw a banner on our website indicating that all donations to our ministry are used to help families in need.  In order to provide clarification, we need to explain that the purpose of our ministry is to respond to the spiritual, emotional, and psychological needs of individuals and families. We do this by praying, providing books and other resources, airing broadcasts that address the serious issues many people face, and offering one free consultation with a professional Christian counselor on our staff. The financial contributions we receive are used to accomplish these objectives.

While it’s true that our ministry has been privileged on occasion to provide financial assistance to those experiencing hardships, our capacity to do this is limited as we are primarily a media ministry. Unfortunately, as much as we would like to, we’re not always able to offer monetary aid to the many individuals and families whose needs are brought to our attention. We’re so sorry to disappoint you.

Thanks again for writing to us, [Redacted]. God bless you and your loved ones, and may He always be the strength of your heart and your refuge.

[Redacted]

Focus on the Family

~~~~

I'll hand it to the Catholics. They do try. But their assistance is focused primarily on Catholics - quite understandable - and within their own parishes - equally understandable.

You might as well ask a brick wall for help as any Protestant church. Actually the brick wall probably at least won't - more or less literally - slam a door in your face.

I know good and well that my mother, my family, is not the only one in such dire straits. There is nowhere to turn - least of all our 'brothers' and 'sisters'.

One of these days the leaders of all these churches - these vastly wealthy mega churches and the haughty local churches and all of them - are going to have to answer to Christ about all the blood on their hands of their own people they left to starve and freeze and die in the streets.

(I'd bet good money - if I had any - that they'll have the money to put on a Christmas pageant this year.)

#James 2:15 & 16

[corishadowfang]

Questions for 15 Friends Tag Game

Tagged by @siarven--thanks for the tag!

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag 15 people.

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?

Uh...not really but also kind of for my legal name? It was the name of a character in a soap opera my mom watched, and she liked it enough to use it for me.

My chosen name...also kind of falls under the same umbrella, but for different reasons, and, uh...comes with a story. So like--I was really into fantasy stories when I was a kid/teen (I say like I'm not still into them now), and I loved making up "fantasy" names, which...basically just meant shoving a bunch of letters together until I got something I thought sounded cool. One of those names was "Coriora." For whatever reason, I fell in love with this name, and it's shortened version, "Cori," and I used it for everything. Pokemon nicknames, random characters, a self-insert OC...

And my cat. Who I adopted a few months before I made my email and FF.net account. Which is when I officially started using the name "CoriShadowfang" as my primary username online. Teenage me didn't even have the thought in her mind that she could possibly identify with the name "Cori" enough to adopt it as her own, nor did she think of the potential consequences of sharing a name with her cat.

...On the plus side, it's funny to call my cat "Cori Sr.," and watch how people try to process that.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

Uh...I think Friday night? I'm pretty sure it was about something I was planning for a story, aha. (I cry VERY easy, haha, and the thing that spurs it does not necessarily have to be sad.)

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Do pets count...?

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

I was signed up for baseball, basketball, and soccer when I was a kid, though of those, soccer was the only one I actually liked. I ended up running cross country and track in high school (though after that ended up running only for fun, since, uh...the competitive part of that wasn't very enjoyable for me, aha). In college I did fencing, which I loved and often miss a lot, but there...really aren't many places that offer fencing around where I live. I did do some long sword for a while a couple of years ago; transition to that from fencing was an interesting experience, since the fencing muscle memory...did not go away. ("What do you mean I have to hold this with two hands?? ...What do you mean I can't just stab them?!") That ended up being pretty expensive, though, so I only got to take lessons for a few months. It was still fun, though!

DO YOU USE SARCASM?

Depends on the situation! I use it a lot less online, because I'm worried about coming across as, like...rude or mean. When I do use it, it's often toned down a lot. Offline, it depends on who I'm around, and how they react to it. (Or if I'm just...getting really frustrated. Then it tends to come out more.)

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?

Uh, that's...a good question. Online, it's definitely their interests, and...I guess it's kind of also the same offline? If I'm given the opportunity, haha. Like--if I see you're wearing a Pokemon pin or reading a fantasy book or something, I'm immediately going to be focused on that, haha.

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOUR?

Mostly blue; the bottom of my right eye has a patch of green in it.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

Happy endings! I never got into scary movies very much, aha.

ANY TALENTS?

Uh...I guess writing probably counts? I'm also a pretty good distance runner.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

The middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

Writing, haha; I joke that it's all I do, but uh...it really is most of what I do. Besides that, I like drawing, reading, playing video games, and hiking. I guess playing card games/board games might also count? But uh, I do that a lot with my friends and family.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

Yes! Cori Sr. is still around, haha, and I also recently adopted a puppy named Luna. Obligatory pet photos:

HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'4''

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

Probably unsurprisingly, lit/creative writing, haha. I also really liked most science classes, too; learning about nature was one of my favorite things in school, and any sort of labs where we could go outside and actually study plants/animals were amazing.

DREAM JOB?

If money weren't a concern, and I could just do anything I wanted for the rest of my life without worrying about how to pay the bills...I would love to just write stories full time. Writing really is one of the things I'm the most passionate about, and I'd love to be able to pour my all into it without worrying about getting too burnt out or needing to take on extra jobs to make ends meet. Maybe one day...

I will tag...wait I need 15 of you...uhhh @starlightwayfinder, @cq-studios, @recusant-s-sigil, @scalacaelumx, @hallowed-nebulae, @serenedash, @thetwilightroadtonightfall, @rosie-kairi, @fin-al-mix, @kicktwine, @zmwrites, @talesabound, @gotchaocha, @bookwormally, and @lightwithinthedarknessu, if any of you want to do this! Absolutely no pressure, though! (And feel free to skip/leave out any you might feel uncomfortable answering/don't feel like answering.)

#tag game #thanks for the tag; this was fun!

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 13

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"And when are you going back to work?"

"Next week."

"Why so soon?"

"I'm just following the doctor's orders, mum" I sigh.

"But which doctor? The one from the team? What does he know about broken ribs? Muscles and feet, ok. But ribs?"

"It was a doctor at the hospital, mum. One specialized on this type of injuries."

"Oh… good. Good. Anyway, when are you introducing me to Ferran?"

"Mum…" I sigh again.

"It's your first boyfriend since Marc, Val. I'm excited!"

"He isn't my boyfriend, mum. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't believe you?" she says over the phone. "A friend doesn't do what he did."

"Whatever."

"So, when are you coming? Maybe on Sunday for lunch?"

"Mum!"

"What?"

"I'm not going to introduce you to Ferran because he isn't my boyfriend, so stop asking!"

"There is no need to yell at me, Valeria."

"Then stop it! I need everyone to stop!" I say, trying not to cry. Again. Because the past couple of weeks have been… too much. 

As expected, people had filmed what had happened at the Camp Nou, the video becoming viral not long after the game was over, the news opening with it the next day and showing my face to everyone.

Barcelona and Real Madrid had released statements condemning what had happened, Barça saying that they had identified the man and forbade him to set foot in the Camp Nou ever again. They had also contacted me to apologize and say that if I wanted to report him, I had their legal team at my disposal. 

Real Madrid also reached out to me, saying that I was invited to any game I wanted at the Bernabéu, that they would pay for the tickets, the trip and my stay. And to be honest, leaving the city and spending a weekend away sounded like the perfect plan right now. 

Because if the video of the man harassing me had made it to the news, the one of Ferran jumping the billboards and carrying me away had become viral all around the world. 

The views on the accounts that had posted it were crazy, same with the number of comments and likes. According to Marina, people were already writing fanfic about what had happened, some even shipping us. Though like my mother, most believed Ferran and I were already dating. 

On the video you could see him calling my name, pushing people to get to me, making it clear that he knew me. And then there was my face. 

I was looking at him as if he was an angel sent from the heavens, my knight in shiny armour, my arms wrapping around his neck as if my life depended on it. Which it kind of did.

A couple of days after the incident, I started to get lots of follow requests on Instagram. Someone who knew me had created an account just to reply to all the comments asking who I was by tagging me on them, and it had blown up. Thankfully, Marina had quickly seen it and helped me put all my social media private and delete anything that could lead them to me and to know more about who I was. Emma told me that there was a lot of gossip at the school too, all the parents talking about me, and I can already see the teenagers camping outside just to see me in person and God knows what else. Which has made me think about me and Pedri. 

He is way more famous than Ferran and has more fans than him. If things are this crazy now, what could happen if our relationship got more serious and someone found out that we were together? What would they say about me? Not only online, but at work and my friends and family too. My mum had already mentioned that Ferran was young and…

"Valeria! Valeria, are you listening to me!"

"What?"

"Val… Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine."

"Then why can I hear that you are about to cry?"

"I'm not."

"Val, I'm your mother. I know you. What is it, darling?"

"Nothing, mum."

"Valeria…"

"I need to go, mum. There is… something I need to do."

"Something like what?" 

Like balling my eyes out, for example.

"Work. I'll call you tomorrow, ok? Bye" I say before hanging up, not being able to contain my tears anymore.

I need to disconnect. To forget about everything that has happened and that is happening. I need to even forget who I am. And only one person is capable of doing that.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Val? What are you…"

"Shut up and kiss me" I say, throwing myself at Pedri and kissing him, barely giving him time to close the door before I push him against the wall. 

"Val…" 

"No talking" I say before starting to kiss his neck, my hands moving under his shirt, pulling it up.

"But…"

"Arms."

"What?"

"Lift your arms, Pedri. You are wearing too many clothes."

"Val…"

"Urgh, shut up" I say, kissing him again, one of my hands moving down and inside his joggers.

"Val, don't" he says, stopping me. 

"What?"

"Don't."

"Since when you don't want to have sex?"

"Since you only want to do it because something is upsetting you and you want to forget."

"I'm fine" I say with a nervous laugh.

"No, you aren't fine, Valeria. Talk to me."

"I'm fine" I repeat.

"Val" he says, putting his hand under my chin and making me look him in the eyes. "Talk to me."

"I can't" I whisper.

"Yes, you can. You know you can tell me anything, that you can trust me. I'm here for you, Val. Please talk to me."

"I… I can't."

"Of course you can."

"No, I mean… I can't deal with this anymore. With people constantly asking me if I'm ok and reminding me of that night, with the gossip, with my mother annoying me… I just want to move on and forget, to go back to my life. But they don't let me." 

"And you thought fucking me would help because I make you forget?" 

"Yes… No…"

"Yes or not, Val?" he chuckles.

"Yes, I wanted to fuck you because you literally manage to leave my mind blank when we are doing it. I just feel, there are no thoughts. It's just us and that's what I need right now. Us. But when I tell you that you make me forget, it's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to explain it, but just hanging out with you, watching a movie or laying on the sofa eating something together and talking about the most stupid things, makes me forget about all the noise around me. It's like… When I am with you… You make me feel like me. With you I can be who I really am. Not the disgrace of my family, the teacher, the girl who got harassed at the Camp Nou, the girl who supposedly is dating Ferran. With you I'm just Val. And I can't remember the last time I was able to feel like that with someone. Or if I've ever felt that free with anyone. And… Why are you laughing? I just opened myself up to you and you are laughing?"

"I'm laughing because you've described exactly how I've felt since the moment I met you, Val" Pedri says.

"What?"

"You've always seen me as me, as Pedri the kid/teenager/young man, not Pedri the football star."

"Football star?" 

"See? You teasing me like that is something that none of the other girls I've been with ever did because that's what they liked, the only side of me they saw. But you see beyond that. You see me, the real me, and this honesty with no filter is what I need in my life. Because it keeps me grounded, it helps me not forget who I really am and what truly matters. And you do that, Val. You don't let me forget who I am by letting me be who I truly am." 

"And you are making me remember who I truly am by making me forget about everything else."

"It's a bit of a tongue twister but we understand it" he smiles. 

"Yes" I smile back. "But I just… I just wish it could be like that right now. You and I. I wish… I wish we could disappear and be just Val and Pedri."

"Maybe we can."

"How?" 

"Leave that to me. For now go home and look for some summery clothes, nothing fancy. And a bikini. And sunscreen."

"You are not making any sense, Pedri" I laugh. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"I do."

"Then go back home, do as I say, and leave the rest to me. I'll call you in a few hours, ok?"

"Ok."

"It's gonna be just you and I, Val. Us" he says before kissing me. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I can't believe you managed to do this" I say while we wait for the plane to take off.

"You wanted to disappear, and your wishes are my commands" Pedri says, kissing my head. 

"We also got a bit lucky, didn't we?"

"You choosing to have a breakdown the weekend I was out because of yellow cards was very helpful, yes."

"Idiot" I say, hitting his chest. "But thank you. I seriously needed this."

"You're welcome. Though I think I also needed it."

"To disconnect?" I ask, moving to look at him.

"Seeing everyone talk about Ferran dating my girl and how amazing he was when he rescued her isn't a nice feeling, to be honest."

"Your girl?" I laugh.

"I mean… How am I supposed to call you? We've never discussed it."

"I like not having a label or whatever you call it. We know we like each other and are fine like that, aren't we?"

"Yeah… I guess" he shrugs.

"Pedri, do you want me to be your girlfriend?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know…" he says, his cheeks turning bright red. "Do you want to? Are you ready for that?"

"I'm not sure… yet."

"Yet?"

"Let's focus on this trip first. We are gonna spend a whole weekend together away from home just the two of us, and maybe by the end of it you've annoyed me so much that I don't want to see you ever again."

"Or maybe you have annoyed me" he smirks.

"We'll see" I smile, resting my head on his chest again. 

"Though you were the first who said that I was yours, you know? Your annoying kid/teenager/young man if I remember well."

"Yes, annoying. You said it yourself" I say. But an annoying I like very much.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"This place is beautiful, Pedri."

"Do you like it?" he says, hugging me from behind.

"I love it" I smile.

Tenerife. His surprise had been to take me to his hometown for the weekend, to a house in a small town near the beach where no one will bother us, where we can be us and not care about anything else. And it is perfect.

"And I love that you love it" he says, kissing my cheek and making me giggle.

"How did you find this place?"

"Through someone my parents know. I was looking for a house where I could relax and not worry about people following me around or giving a shit about who I was, and they mentioned this town and this house."

"So no one here knows you are Pedri, the football star?" I tease him.

"They do, but they don't care" he shrugs.

"How many girls have you brought here?"

"Just one. You" he says, kissing my shoulder.

"Is this one of your secret places too?" I ask, moving on his arms until I'm facing him, my hands resting on his chest.

"Yep."

"And you've brought me to it. Like happened with the rooftop or the beach."

"Yep" he repeats.

"Why?"

"Do you really have to ask why?" he chuckles, caressing my cheek.

"I'm special" I say with a shy smile.

"The most special girl I've ever met."

"And you've met a lot of girls, haven't you?" 

"A few, yes."

"A few" I laugh.

"Hey, what are you implying? That I am some sort of Casanova?"

"More like a slutty Casanova" I smirk.

"Valeria, Valeria, Valeria…" he says, pulling me closer.

"Pedro, Pedro, Pedro" I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Kissing me sounds like a great idea."

"And after that?" 

"More kissing."

"And after that?" he says, his lips brushing against mine.

"I don't know. We have a whole weekend together to find out." 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"And… I win again."

"That's impossible."

"Sorry" I smile.

"You have to be cheating."

"I'm not cheating, Pedri."

"Then how do you explain winning the five rounds of Uno we've played?"

"I'm better than you" I shrug.

"Nah, you are cheating. Where are you hiding the cards?"

"I'm not hiding anything!"

"Yes, you are" he says, slowly moving towards me.

"Pedri, I'm not. And where would I hide them? I'm wearing a bikini!"

"And?"

"There is no place to hide cards on something so small" I laugh.

"I don't believe you."

"And I don't care."

"I'm gonna have to check for myself" he smirks.

"Pedri…" 

"Yes?" he says, his face now very close to mine.

"We are at the beach."

"And?"

"We are not going to have sex on a public beach."

"That isn't what I was thinking about."

"And I'm the Queen" I snort.

"You are the queen of my heart."

"And now he goes all cheesy" I laugh again.

"Don't you like it?"

"You know I don't do cheesy."

"Then what do you do?" he says, the way he is looking at me making me blush. 

"I… I…"

"You what?"

"I… I need to go home."

"What?"

"I need to go home so you can take off this bikini and do unspeakable things to me."

"And what if I don't want to?" he smirks.

"Then I'll do it myself" I say, somehow managing to move away from him and get up from my towel. 

"You can't do to yourself what I can do to you."

"Watch me."

"Is that an invitation?" he asks, now smirking and lifting one of his perfect eyebrows at the same time. 

"Maybe" I shrug, picking up my dress and my bag and starting to walk.

"Val, wait." 

"I can't, I'm sorry. Got something to do."

"Wait for me, Val" Pedri says while picking up all his things.

"I'm too horny, I can't wait."

"Val!"

"Sorry!" I say before I start running.

"Val! Valeria!" he calls after me while I just run.

"C'mon, Pedro! You are a professional athlete!" I laugh.

"I'm wearing flip flops! What if I injure myself?" 

"Then good for my team!" 

"You evil woman!"

"Sorry" I laugh again. "Oh, fuck" I say when I make it to the door.

"Looking for this?" Pedri says behind me, the key of the house in his hand.

"Give me that."

"Nope" he says, hiding it behind him.

"Pedri…"

"No" he grins.

"Give me the key, c'mon" I say, trying to reach for it.

"You tease me, I tease you" he smiles.

"Will you give it to me if I say sorry?"

"Umm… no."

"Oh, c'mon!" I complain.

"I'm sorry, Val" he says, moving past me and opening the door.

"Pedri!" I say when he closes it in my face, not allowing me to go inside. "Let me in!"

"Are you still horny?"

"I'm pissed!"

"And horny?" 

"Open the fucking door, Pedri!"

"Ok, fine" he sighs, finally opening it and letting me in. "We are so lucky we don't have neighbours… Imagine what they would think."

"Fuck you."

"No, I am going to fuck you" he says as he hugs me from behind, one of his hands moving down on me. "And when I'm done, you'll be thankful we don't have neighbours." 

"Sure" I reply, my voice almost a whisper. 

"You wanted me to do unspeakable things to you, and that's what I am going to do. We have to make the most of our time here" he says before biting my earlobe, his fingers now inside my bikini bottom. "We have to enjoy our time together, alone, just the two of us."

"Pedri" I gasp when his fingers touch me, my knees already feeling weak. 

"It's just the two of us, Val. Just you and I" he whispers against my neck before kissing that spot he knows drives me crazy, that feeling mixed with the one of his fingers touching me making me moan. Loudly. 

So lucky we don't have neighbours indeed…

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fanfic #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

[beelmons]

Escapade 6

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex, reader drinks a bit of alcohol. Summary: You find out the identity of the deceased, the team uses this opportunity to try and figure out who the UnSub's next target is. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: again I overdid it with the plot, a little less action now, but I promise it's coming, if you have stuck around, thank you. It's also a bit on the short side, but it's good to get this part of the story out of the way. Tag list: @punkndisorderrly @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @amywright @blorp-bee @hey-dw

When a friend shows up in your darkest moment, when you don’t make sense and your world seems to be crumbling down, that’s when you know they are meant to stay forever. Unlike any other relationship, there are no intrinsic bonds that force them to be your support, no bloodline, no legal contract, just a pure will to remain by your side. Aware of this, you weren’t sure ten lives would be enough to compensate Spencer. How do you repay a pair of arms that held you up as your knees gave in? Or the chest that let you pour your tears until you were dry? Or the heart that remained sat next to you in complete silence, just so you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of uncertainty alone? 

There was no ID on the body, to your misfortune, so Hotch had to arrange for the cadaver to be taken to Quantico, and even worse, requested that you identify it. He didn’t mean anything by it, but he was at the crime scene, and time was of the essence, you needed to know right away. The hour and a half that the medical examiner’s team took to transport it to the headquarters was the closest to hell as you had ever experienced, and you were certain that without the presence of Spencer you would have lost it in the middle of the office. 

It was around four in the morning, and neither of you had gotten a blink of sleep. You sat on your chair by the round table with your sight placed nowhere, deeply lost in thought, leg bouncing from the anxiety, mixed with that entire coffee pot you had split only between two people, just waiting for the dreaded call. 

—Hello? Yes, thank you, we’ll be right there —Spencer rushed to pick up the phone once he had seen Hotch’s name shine on the screen— The body is here. 

You took a deep breath in preparation, trying to brace yourself to face your least desired scenario. It wasn’t the first time you had been near death, but there was something about how everything was unraveling in this case, like every step of the way was meant to torture you, to break you. You made your way through the halls of the FBI building, your heart seeming to beat faster the closer you got to the forensic laboratories, with agent Reid following right behind you as your secondary. You froze in your place once you reached the metal door behind which you knew the new victim was awaiting to reveal itself to you. You fiddled with the knob slightly, doubtful and nervous, until you felt a hand on your shoulder that caused you to turn around in surprise; Spencer gave you a slight nod, letting you know that things were going to be okay, and that was the only indication you needed to gather the courage.

Yet, as you watched the lifeless being lay before you, you could feel a familiar sensation in your chest, the sweet lightness of relief. 

—It’s Carlos Gonzalez.—you finally whispered. 

If it hadn’t been the most inappropriate reaction to seeing a dead body, Spencer would have picked you up in a hug, he wanted to celebrate this small victory for you, but, above anything else, you two were profilers, officers of the law, and you had a job to do, that was the ground base of this arrangement that the two of you had. A pact that seemed to get blurrier with every new discovery. 

—I can’t tell you much just yet. —the M.E. interrupted your train of thought before you could even look at your partner. 

—He doesn’t seem malnourished. —Spencer said in such a tone he seemed to be talking to himself. 

—Like I said, —the examiner continued— I can’t give you the details, I have just only gotten the guy, but off the top of my head, he’s been dead less than 24 hours, there are ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, and his body is clean compared to other victims I’ve examined that have been in captivity. How long was he missing? 

—Officially, we’ve been investigating his disappearance for about five days, but we’ve got a theory that he was taken three weeks ago. —you answered.

—If he was held for that long, he was being well fed. I don’t see external signs of dehydration or drug consumption either, but that I can only say for sure once I get the lab results. Cause of death seems to be a bullet to the back of his head. —the ME contributed.  

—Execution style. —Reid clarified as he took a look at the wound area— This is the first time he’s purposely shown a murder, the other victims he tried to pose as accidents or suicide, it’s almost as if this was the murder that consolidated him as a killer, the murder that mattered and he wanted to show the world. 

—About that I can’t really say, but I’ll make sure to wipe the entire body down for any DNA I can find. —the medic spoke once again. 

—He has been careful enough to leave no traces on either the crime scenes or the victims, but we appreciate the effort. —you added.

Right after you finished talking, you exchanged pleasantries with the examiner and hurried to get out of the room. Silence fell upon your partner and yourself as you walked back towards the BAU office, the simple clacking of your shoes filling the echo of the halls. Reid was slightly behind you, unsure if it was an appropriate moment to ask about your mental state. You finally reached a more familiar area, locked administrative offices surrounding you instead of morgues and examination rooms. 

—Hey, —he began to speak in attempt to catch your attention

As magic, your body swiftly turned around at the sound of his voice, yet your intention was never to talk, and in a blink your arms were around his neck. You had planned for a hug, but you couldn’t help the way your lips drifted onto his, interrupting him mid sentence, attaching in a needy, loving way. He was taken aback, literally, by your sudden display of affection, his body stumbling slightly until his back had met the nearest wall. Your lips continued to move against Spencer’s, barely giving him the opportunity to catch his breath; his hands were amiss for a second until they finally settled for your neck, letting them slide in between your bodies to be able to wrap his fingers around the sides. 

Eventually, the need for oxygen was greater than his desire to continue kissing you, so his thumbs brushed over your cheeks to push you gently away from him. He visibly gulped and let out a quiet gasp, his tongue sliding over the area where your mouth had just been. He stared into your eyes, eyebrows showing you a bit of confusion. 

—Just wanted to show how grateful I am. I don’t know how to make it up to you. —you muttered, your hands moving to grab onto his wrists. 

—I’m sure we can figure something out after we get him back alive- —he said and his head leaned closer to place a gentle peck on your lips once again, his face refusing to move too far away from yours. 

There was a tingling sensation on your lips, three, very dangerous, words threatening to come out from them, if you opened your mouth you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself, it was a reflex, a need that bubbled from the deepest core, your bottom lip quivered, as if the need to express what you felt for him was controlling your body instead of the rational mind that knew it could destroy everything you’d built. Therefore, you were thankful for the chime of your phone that interrupted the stupid idea circling your brain; you took a glance at the screen and pulled apart at the sight of the message’s preview.

—It’s Hotch. Everyone is back at the office. 

You exchanged equally disappointed looks with Reid once your make out session had to be, once again, cut short, but you didn’t have time to be making out in the hall like teenagers, wondering ‘does he like me back’ in a highschool-like fashion, there was a case to solve, and a person to save, a person you also deeply cared about. You entered the round table office to find the team already gathered, the digital board on and including some of the new information Hotch had gotten from the local police. 

—Good, now that you’re here, you can walk us through what you’ve found. —the boss said as he offered the two of you the platform to speak. 

—The deceased is Carlos Gonzalez —Reid began, and the rest of the people in the room seemed to release an empathic, relieved sigh— We will have more details after the examiner finishes the autopsy, but he seems to have been dead no longer than twenty four hours, no signs of torture other than being bounded, and what’s more important he seemed well fed and hydrated, he took care of him while he kept him around.

—What’s C.O.D.? —Rossi asked. 

—Bullet to the back of the head, execution style. —the doctor clarified and the team’s eyes narrowed in confusion. 

—That doesn’t make any sense, he posed the other deaths to look as anything other than murder, why would he make it obvious now? —Emily pointed out. 

—He’s sending us a message, he wants the attention. —Hotch said— So far, we’ve kept this under the rug because the DC police lied to the family members about the cause of deaths of the first two victims, but now, it’s impossible to stop the investigation from going public. If we don’t move fast, the media is going to get involved. 

—Could also be that he doesn’t know that we’re onto him, and thinks he successfully passed the other two murders as accidents. —Rossi mentioned.

—We profiled his first two victims were impulse kills, even if he was stalking them beforehand to know their routines. The staging seemed rushed, he was careful with the DNA, but not with the forensic countermeasures, but this kill was planned, it took him almost a week to build up to it, what was different about this guy? —Morgan added 

—There’s no way to tell so far, we have no idea why or how he’s choosing them. —JJ contributed to her friend’s statement. 

—Maybe not about the first two victims, but we have a theory on how he was getting the information on their whereabouts, and why he was keeping Carlos alive. —Reid answered— We believe he was using him to access FBI human resources databases in an attempt to find a specific file. See, SSA’s and higher ranks’ information is encrypted and only accessible to cleared accounts and passwords under the approval of a supervisor, so in order to get the file he would’ve needed his passwords and user. 

—Why not just have him write down the passwords and kill him? —Emily asked. 

—Navigating the FBI software isn’t easy. —Hotch mentioned— If the UnSub was unfamiliar with the system he might have needed help, some accesses also require biometrics, and at any given second, a supervisor might call you or email you to question about the requisition. It is possible that he kept him around in case he needed any of those. 

—Do we know when and whose files he requested? —Rossi inquired. 

—We do now. —Garcia’s voice snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance of the office— I went over Carlos’s human resources file and his system activity logs, he accessed Dylan Parker’s file three days before he was found, and Andrea Roger’s two days before her accident. These two were also right about Gonzalez’s activities, he put in an annual leave for two weeks and was supposed to come back last monday, but he requested a sick day and a personal day back to back exactly when he was supposed to resume his activities, so his boss didn’t notice his absence until thursday, when he was reported missing. However, I called the airline and they confirmed that Carlos Gonzalez never boarded the plane, so the assumption that he was taken before the trip is completely plausible. 

—So, that’s how he was getting their home addresses, their work schedules, and so on. If he lives in DC like the geographical profile suggests, he could have stalked them without leaving a paper trail on a motel or hotel, he’d just watch them, take notes, and drive back home. —Jennifer observed. 

—That’s correct. Lastly, and most importantly, on the day he was supposed to come back he put in a requisition for an SSA’s file under the pretense of a workplace incident audit. Now, it’s important to note sick and personal day requisitions go to the direct supervisor and only appear on the system once he has registered them, whereas the file request went straight to the unit chief, so his superior wasn’t notified. 

—There was no overlap in the system, the supervisor didn’t make the connection, and the unit chief just assumed he had gone back to duty. —Rossi pointed out. 

—Mhm. —Penelope continued, her demeanor changing to a concerned, slightly sad one— And one more thing, due to the Unit Chief being busy, the request was only approved this morning. 

—If he already has the file, and he got rid of Gonzalez, this agent is probably his last target. —Morgan clarified for the team. 

—We have to put a tail on them, he might not wait as long this time to make his move. —Emily mentioned once again— Whose is it, Garcia?  Penelope was unable to speak, her eyes just sadly and slowly traveled to you. The rest of your coworkers followed her line of sight, and everyone let out their own version of a frustrated and concerned sigh at the realization. It was you, you were the last target.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/reader smut #fic: mine #fic: spencer

[neechees]

hello! do you mind if i ask for some clarification about some terms? what is the generally accepted "umbrella" term to talk about the indigenous people of the united states? ive seen people frown at native american and indigenous americans seems to be pretty broad and encompasses more than just north america. theres a tribe run museum near me and they call themselves american indians but i dont really see anyone use that term on here. i know its best to refer to tribe names but is there a generally accepted term that encompasses more than just specific territories like plains/southeast/etc ? also, "ndn" is a self identifier and not acceptable for settlers, correct? i just want to make sure i dont say something dumb. thank you in advance if you answer, and sorry if this seems silly!

Sure thing

"Native American" is your safest best, generally a lot of people tend not to have any issue with this term. Some people might dislike it to describe themselves because the term is still an exonym, and also because Native people have existed here before this place was called "America". But if a Native person dislikes being called this, they'll tell you. But generally there's nothing really super offensive about this term (besides what I just told you), and works fine. This is the most widely used term.

"Indigenous American" isn't really widely used, but it could potentially work.

And yes, "ndn" is Native slang & a self identifier and shouldn't be used by people who aren't Native, because it's the same as saying "Indian".

"American Indian" is mostly an outdated term (that might be still used as mostly a legal term in the U.S), and most of the people who use this nowadays are elders & older Native people, because they're used to it. Generally though this isn't a popular term & is considered offensive due to "Indian" being a slur. If a Native person specifically wants to be called this, they'll tell you. Otherwise, don't assume people want to be called this

Some Native people in specifically the U.S might sometimes want to be called "First Nations" or "Aboriginal", but these terms are more common in Canada so they're not that popular.

Otherwise, just saying "Native people" and "Indigenous people" should work fine, if not "Native American".

#anonymous

[phantomrose96]

the part of my brain that took one linguistics class is clawing at the walls wondering if savit-e is also the plural. like not only is it a concept with legal and social implications, but reb is asked by the parents three different times who her savit-e is, which means that is a socially acceptable enough question to ask of casual acquaintances, so everyone knows who everyone's claimed savit-e is. so like. what if you have more than one kid? savine is ten and knows enough to be flattered by the implications of reb calling her this. screaming.

(Savit-e)

So I've definitely thought about this. I also think this line of questioning is more interesting if left without a definitive Word of God on it. Savit-e could become plural if it extends to a concept, like "my children are my Savit-e." Or it may truly be a singular claim. A "you get one."

One thing I WILL say, to me I believe the most common answer to "Who is Savit-e?" is "No one." Because the implications behind it are so heavy.

To identify someone as Savit-e gives you immense legal leeway in ensuring their safety above all else. A partial answer to the trolley problem. "Who do you save? You save Savit-e." And no one who subscribes to this societal idea would fault you.

But it also gives you that immense responsibility to save your Savit-e above all else. Over your other children, over your husband, over your other family, over a school bus of burning children, over yourself. You're not allowed to be a bystander. You're not allowed to NOT intervene.

To me, Savit-e is used most often among people who think there may be a reason to fear danger, and a need for ensuring double-measures to act in the protection of someone. Jira and Savine belong to a class of people the "plum men" target. Declaring Savit-e is a means of protection.

And then it does truly become like a pet name. Like a term of endearment. It's a declaration to the world "You are the person I most treasure, who I will protect above myself and everything else." Anyone listening will think twice about touching your Savit-e because you have free reign to protect them by any means necessary. Having a Savit-e is noble. It's a promise to act.

And there is one way to back out of the promise, and that is to transfer Savit-e to yourself.

This is allowed. But the societal response to someone who has declared Savit-e on themselves may be worse than having simply sacrificed themselves.

#savit-e #ask

[mylight-png]

Lamination sheets or thick strips of clear artist tape can be taped over posters to protect them from spray paint, markers, water damage, ect. It renders them wash-clean. However it does not fully protect against fire or sharp objects or acid.

If you coat the back of a poster with a few layers of glue or tape before you tape it up, it can make it harder to tear. Tape is better, especially if you double-layer it with the tape going in different directions. Or just use strips of duct-tape.

Likewise, layering grip tape and duct-tape and cross-pathing them can make posters extremely difficult to peel off a wall. Take it from someone who was convinced she'd want that poster of Jacob Black on her bedroom wall forever. It took me two hours to get off. More than enough time to call the police.

The best kinds of tape to purchase are industrial tapes. These tapes will usually have things like airtight, sealant, airguard, closure, repair, ect in their name. They are designed not to tear, weaken, ect.

Anti-attack dye spray, a legal alternative to pepper spray and mace, can be used on any people tearing down posters who also act threateningly towards you if you are in their vicinity. It can be sprayed on faces, hands, or any bare skin and it will stain them for up to 10 days. The color RED has been suggested as the main identifier for people who are vandalising posters. Please note, you can ONLY use this in defence. E.g; if they act aggressively, approach you, ect.

This one is a little odd, but poop barriers (or fake poop made using mud) are a tested, proven deterrent. If the posters are on a wall or a pole, coating the floor in front of it in fecal matter means most people will not willingly step in it in order to get to the posters. Farmers have been using this method for generations where I live to stop people getting into crop fields, orchards, ect. Nobody wants to step in poop. When I had an apple tree in my yard I made a fake poop barrier and it was the lone year my neighbors and the people in my area didn't climb my fence to steal apples.

I definitely recommend using fake poop because you might be charged if you use real poop.

Using a box or step ladder, putting posters up higher and out of reach can also reduce the chance of it getting vandalised. You may need to make the poster's visual content larger to compensate. Brightly colors arrows pointing upward toward the poster in place of where the poster would normally be will also encourage people to look up and see them.

Don't just tape them to walls and street poles. Ask local coffee shops and supermarkets if you can tape them in the windows or on the serving desks. Ask your local bus station if you can tape them inside. Crowdfund where possible and buy slots on digital street boards and billboards (if there's a group of you doing it, you can raise the funds as a group effort and create a slideshow of sorts.)

Get. Creative.

But also obey the law. Or at least skirt it with enough plausible deniability.

Ooooh neat, thanks for the advice!

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #jew #proud israeli #israel solidarity #discourse #advice

[trans-cuchulainn]

im currently obsessed w Láeg Ulstercycle and i would love you forever if you gave me your favorite facts/anecdotes/??? about him

oh boy how long have you got

descriptions of láeg vary but the most common description of him is that he's redheaded, freckled, and tall

he always wears a cloak that's open at the elbows (makes it easier to hold the reins of the horses but also. stylish)

his origins are super obscure, but he might be from the otherworld. in one text there's an association of his parents with síd truimm. in another text, he has an otherworld connection because his parents live on a seemingly magical island, which they rule. in a super late text he's explicitly said to come from the "territory of gabra" in "the land under the wave", aka the otherworld.

but in the text that links him to síd truimm, his parents are the foster parents of cet mac mágach, who is one of the preeminent connacht warriors, so he might also have a connacht background ?? which would frankly be heartbreaking in the context of the táin

the "mac riangabra" of his name is explained as a patronymic deriving from his parents "rían" or "srían" and "gabur". rían means path and srían means bridle; gabur is a poetic word for a horse. so this might mean bridle-of-a-horse, or path-of-a-horse. if so this probably just meant "charioteer" originally and is later interpreted as a patronymic

supporting this, he has a bunch of brothers who are also charioteers: idh, who is conall's charioteer in fled bricrenn and fer diad's charioteer in the stowe version of the táin, and sedlang, who is lóegaire buadach's charioteer in fled bricrenn. conchobar's charioteer ibar, who drives cú chulainn in the "boyhood deeds" section of the táin, is also sometimes identified as "mac riangabra". there are a few other brothers floating around in various texts but idh and sedlang are the most common

so they might not have originally actually been considered brothers. it might just be a description of their job, i.e. mac riangabra = charioteer. but by the time of any of our surviving texts, they seem to be considered brothers and this gets more explicit in later material

sometimes he also has sisters. in one late text, his sister marries one of naoise mac uisneach's brothers. i can't tell you any more about that yet tho bc i haven't read that text. waiting for a friend to translate it for me

he talks to the horses a lot, especially in late texts. sometimes he recites entire poems to them

he can navigate by the stars, play strategy games, and give legal advice, so he's probably got a good brain on him

in the táin bó cúailnge there is a scene where cú chulainn sleeps for three days while his otherworldly father lug heals his wounds. láeg is present. láeg is not stated as being asleep. presumably then láeg and lug made awkward small talk for three full days. this is one of my favourite scenes to imagine

one time enemies attack while cú chulainn is asleep and láeg doesn't want to wake him up bc cú chulainn is a bitch when he's woken up, so he just fights them all for him. he kills over 100 guys over the course of two attacks. after that the enemies send a giant instead lol

sometimes he uses a sword called the "corpse-hewer" to cut the gae bolga out of people cú chulainn killed with it. this is a very laborious and messy process and can take several days

emer says that she, cú chulainn and láeg live together "in one dwelling place"

cú chulainn calls him "a phopa" (a term of respect and endearment derived from "father", usually used for an elder). láeg calls cú chulainn "a chúcúc", "a chúcán", and other diminutives – literally "little Hound"

this has been: a random assortment of facts about láeg mac riangabra, you're welcome

#laeg mac riangabra #ulster cycle #answered #anonymous #medieval irish

[doctorwhoisadhd]

what are your thomas england thoughts? like what do u think thomas was like b4 they died

ok so thomas england is DEFINITELY one of the players who i imagine as part of the Prehistory Fridays Gang. so first he was around for everything in prehistory (along with fletcher berger, sebastian diaz and his partner, erickson hendricks, rhonda elliott, our lady of perpetual friday, fenry marlow and their dog homer, fitzgerald massey, jessi wise, and mrs silk who was then miss silk. and then also baby york and his dad parker, who was dating miss silk. obv not all of these people were necessarily fridays players at the time though maybe they worked behind the scenes). so THAT was a whole thing.

honestly part of the problem of being LITERALLY retconned out of the game is nobody remembers you anymore. thomas england was only around long enough to get joke lore, we were only really just starting to flesh out relationships between the players when he got incinerated, and he didnt get any of that. and what adds to this problem is, well in the fridays style of lore, we dont necessarily think about what a player does outside of blaseball, or at least we DEFINITELY didnt early on (and didnt get ANY new entirely unlored players until relatively late af in the game — so like, after sixpack on s4d86 our next two were fenry and yass statter jr in the s13 and s19 elections respectively). so as a result there isnt any kind of a precedent to fall back on for what i think about what he did?

but here's what i DO know;

i disagree with the wiki on this one: neither of his parents are from the UK (there is no way). i like to think like, at least one of his parents is native, and hes lived there his entire life

his legal name is thomas england + thats whats on all his blaseball stuff, but typically with other islanders he'd use pelekane (which is what some of the last few members of the hawaiian royal family called england in ʻolelo hawaiʻi). so its like, his career name is thomas england

hes transmasc B) also ADHD

he played first base

he loves doctor who, and not just because its from the UK. like, hes seen the TV movie and at least one of the peter cushing movies and most of classic who, listened to a whole bunch of audios, reads the comics and the novels and like every EDA, has a subscription to dwmag, his bar for media quality is on the fucking GROUND so its literally all good he just loves dr who so much. he also probably has a cosplay of literally every doctor (including the shalka doctor and like the curse of fatal death ones too)

despite this he DOES. NOT. know ANYTHING about UK culture. he is constantly having amelia bedelia type misunderstandings of what things are. (ex: beans on toast = toast, peanut butter, jelly beans / "the tube" = "big pneumatic tube like the one for salmon, except people sized" / thinks john lennon's name was actually "john lemon")

he cant tell a single british accent apart he just identifies all of it as "british accent". fitz massey is from australia and is completely unaware that he thinks they are british. it is extremely lucky that he has never met anyone from ireland because they would probably strangle him. (weirdly though: despite him identifying approximately 50% of kiwis as british seemingly completely at random (absolutely no common criteria has been found at all. not looks not age not location nothing), he identifies 100% of scottish accents as "aotearoan")

he plays ʻukulele! maybe he worked at a ʻukulele store for a time at some point, even if it was like a summer job during high school... i like to think he's what got heat into playing :')

obsessed with choose your own adventure stories. he loves them.

(fridays angst train incoming) so york grew up with the whole Prehistory Fridays Gang as his family, and when york was really really little he couldnt say "thomas" (or england or pelekane, for that matter) but would ask him if they could play "docka who" all the time, so eventually what stuck for thomas england was he became york's "uncle who"

#thomas england #blaseball #fridays #hawaii fridays #hawai'i fridays #hawaiʻi fridays #york silk #stevenson heat #fitzgerald massey #ari opinion hour #askbox