my mom is letting my abuser -- my brother -- back into the house because he has nowhere to go and she misses her son and wants to give him another chance

mind you she has bailed him out of jail multiple times to free him of charges of assault, domestic assault, armed criminal action, property damage, theft, etc that he caused to my family. namely me and my sister, but also to my mom, so i'm really confused as to why she is granting him the ability to even visit

like he's choked me and he's thrown my sister into doors before stomping on her stomach. he's threatened to kill any children she may have and has told me (AFAB) and my sister that "women are only good for being raped". my sister has a 4 month old daughter now so we are very scared

anyways when i filed a restraining order today my mom tried keeping me away from doing so because "it's not necessary" and "he doesn't deserve that". she prevented me from reporting my assaults multiple times in years prior so i wouldn't ruin his reputation or chances at having a job

am i in the wrong here. i've been in therapy for over a decade due to his actions

update: the restraining order was dismissed and he has been brought over to my house. i was given 10 minutes heads up before he arrived

looking into hotel rooms now

typing this from a hotel lobby. my mom says i am overreacting by not letting my brother back into my life.

my apartment move-in date has been pushed back from september to october. as such, i am scrambling to locate an apartment with september availability so i can move as quickly as possible (it is currently 8/20). i will be revoking my deposit ASAP so i can apply it elsewhere.

i've needed a lot of help this year from folks on the internet but i am petrified and want to secure safety for myself -- and family members affected by my abusive brother -- as quickly as possible.

any help will go towards the moving truck, starting utilities, transport for my sister and her daughter, and rent.

“LOL. You think your vote matters? ROFL and LOL.” Yes, I am aware my vote carries less and less relative power the more people I’m voting with, but unlike your glorious violent revolution, it actually exists.

The Glorious Violent Revolution fantasy is the Rapture for leftists.

#you heard me#I'm not kidding either#the whole thing and attitude towards is is remarkably similar#you think we haven't noticed the almost lurid fascination and desire to watch the guillotine massacre away#in much the way that the “elect” would be sitting there watching the rest of us “sinners” burn in hellfire for a thousand years?#and how little thought is put into how you're going to pull off this revolution without causing a famine?#or “what next”#look I have no love for the status quo as it is#but I'm going to look askance at any plan that considers a global famine “acceptable collateral damage”#and whose default response to everyone who doesn't get in line with the program is Mister Guillotine#or really take into account that humans are quarrelsome as fuck#this isn't me defending the status quo#this is me saying grow the fuck up#you're not going to build a better world by murdering your way there and you can't purge humanity of it's bad habits with the headman's axe

You know what the real glorious revolution looks like? It looks like writers and actors on the picket lines every day, Starbucks and McDonalds and Wendy’s workers walking out of work until they get conditions that aren’t working inside of an oven, UPS workers fighting to get AC in their vans for increasingly hot summers and also driving around in ovens. It looks like kids walking out of schools and into congressional halls in support of their friends being increasingly silenced and threatened for their race, gender or sexuality. It looks like people getting arrested for handing out warm meals to the homeless. It looks like people risking their lives, homes, and jobs to prevent a forest being bulldozed so a fascism training ground for foot soldiers gets built. It looks like several thousand people fighting and getting imprisoned and murdered so their lands aren’t co-opted for one more goddamn oil pipeline. The “glorious revolution” is dozens of actions happening all around, right now, on dozens of fronts. Just because it isn’t violent is no reason not to pick a front and join in.

I mean, we knew, but it's nice to hear so succinctly

@cyclecam.fpv

Central Oregon High Desert

Fuck those six cacti in particular?

I don't think I've ever related to a set of responses more than this

which lucky lady gets to be subjected to me behaving like this 24/7 🧍🏻‍♂️

I'm literally this dad

I love these videos they're all having so much fun

omg this was hilarious 💀

the editing ✨ the acting ✨ the tension build-up ✨ the line delivery ✨ 100/10 video

THESE PEOPLE VOTE! DO YOU?!?!

I get what internet (often borderline or overt rad)feminists are trying to say with shit about how men never have to deal with x, but sooo many of the examples get shot to shit when you apply any other Man to the example than a cishet rich thin white guy.

“When have men ever had to worry about being killed for something they wore?” Black men. Gay men. Trans men.

“When have men ever been body shamed?” Fat men, balding men, disabled men.

“When have men ever had to worry about walking home at night?” Black men, gay men.

People reinvent “if men could get pregnant” over and over and when someone says “oh they do actually” it’s always viewed as hostile and not a potential intersection.

Like no, you do not have to coddle men, but men saying “hey I do know what it’s like actually” are not outright our enemy trying to center themselves, they are often extending a hand saying “hey I do get it too.”

You get “men shouldn’t be part of feminist conversations” which, hm, and then you get “they should sort this out amongst themselves” but if it’s just men talking about feminism on their own then it’s an insulated boys club being misogynists so they couldn’t ever come to feminist conclusions, but if the group is led by a woman then she’s spending her emotional labor teaching them when the men should just learn it themselves but if they go do it themselves then they’re talking over women (who are not present, curious. MRAs much?) so they should have women present but don’t talk in the conversations because it doesn’t actually involve you and you could never relate to this, so frankly why are you even here? You should go talk to your boys about this by yourselves.

Like, if you think the most bland ass version of Men are so wholly irredeemable and inherently evil by virtue of either birth or identity, why are we even bothering with theory? The fight is over then! There is no hope for change, and things will always be bad forever!

How is this a revolutionary viewpoint?

Forget men of marginalized identities having overlap, the most privileged ass man is going to overlap with the rest of us, and it is as much in his interest to reject patriarchy as much as the rest of us, because unfortunately solidarity means “our struggles are connected” not “in order to be morally pure you must support my cause”, and so any man who sees his struggle as being linked with mine and strives to fight oppressive structures IS my ally because yes the fight involves him too

This has me thinking about Paulo Freire (& by extension, bell hooks) again. If you’ve (anyone) never heard of or perhaps heard of & just not read Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, I recommend reading at least chapter 1. It’s free online! It can get a little complicated if you’re not used to reading this kind of text, but his most important points are often spelled out rather plainly.

Here’s the excerpt I’m reminded of—

Obliterate the idea that oppressors are not themselves dehumanized under systems of oppression. Freire makes this point over and over again.

(Another point he makes over and over again is that the oppressed, in addition to being oppressed, have also internalized the image of the oppressor in themselves, and see the image of their oppressor in their oppressed comrades. This causes both deep self-hatred and lateral aggression & violence.)

So yeah. We absolutely need to get the least oppressed people on our sides & in these conversations because they need us in order for them to be liberated and we need them in order for us to be liberated.

the x files is funny because at the time it was “progressive” or whatever to have the ultra-rational, levelheaded character be a woman

but it’s also a show where all the fucked up alien shit actually is real, so she’s just constantly wrong about everything

What’s funny is how often they’re both wrong. Mulder will be like “the victims all had their livers scooped clean out this is obviously the aliens escalating from cattle mutilation” and Scully will be like “don’t be silly Mulder this is clearly just a serial killer who’s really good with surgical tools” and then it turns out the actual killer is an immortal sewer man who comes out ever quarterly century to feast on human liver.

I cannot stress enough that this is literally the plot of an actual episode

I only remember the plots of 2 X-Files episodes and this is one of them.

This actually was two episodes. Liver guy came back for a sequel.

cuddling

Important addition:

Reblog if you'd like to lie in the grass with prev, just messing around

Another win for ravens, they found out how great cuddling is

As someone who has operated live CCTV cameras:

3. Please keep your shirt and pants on

I’ve already talked about a Leverage crossover where the Hargreeves are conmen but I’m. losing it thinking about. a Leverage AU where the Leverage team sees these kids on tv, and they just go.  oh shit, that’s just fucking wrong.  (I know the timelines don’t match up but let’s pretend the umbrella kids were born a little later, or that Leverage takes place a little earlier, or something like that.  I don’t know.)

But these fucking umbrella kids show up on TV, and at first none of them are paying much attention. Not right away.  They’re busy running cons, and none of them except Hardison watch TV for fun very often.

So they’ve all heard bits and pieces about this Umbrella thing, and aren’t quite sure what to make of it.  Superhumans, huh? Eliot mutters at one point. Whatever. Our lives are already so goddamn weird.

But eventually they catch a broadcast while they’re home in between cases.  it’s playing in the background while they’re enjoying a meal together at the brewery.

The Umbrella Academy saves the day yet again! the broadcaster declares cheerily. We go now to a statement at the Louvre from their leader, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

It’s just novel enough to catch their attention–being who they are, they all perk up at the word Louvre–and it gets them half-watching as they chat over breakfast.

It’s Parker that sees it first.  She’s Parker, so what catches her attention is actually not the fact that one of them is covered in blood, nor is it the fact that their father is calling them by numbers instead of names.  It’s the way that they stand, tense and upright.  It’s the way that the one covered in blood is trembling minutely, so fine that it’s almost imperceptible. But she notices. And she notices the way that the one to the bloodied boy’s left–the fifth one in line–leans over ever-so-subtly when their father is looking away. Whispers something with the barest movement of his lips. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he links hands with his shaking brother, twining their fingers together.  Parker knows that whisper, knows what this is. She used to do that with her brother.  Used to hold Nick’s hand, just like that, when their fosters were scaring him, trying to provide comfort even despite the fear of being caught.

It’s not long before the others follow her gaze. She’s stopped engaging in the conversation entirely, is just staring at the television with a death glare, nose wrinkled.

“Parker, baby,” Hardison says.  “That’s your angry face.”

“I’m angry,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Got it,” Hardison takes it in stride, as he always does.

Eliot’s frowning at the TV.  Unlike Parker, his eye does jump to the most obvious thing first.  To the boy, no older than eleven or twelve probably, drenched head to toe with blood.  There’s no rips in his clothing; Eliot’s pretty sure the blood isn’t his. He’s standing up straight, but his shoulders are slightly hunched.  Like he’s injured.  Broken ribs, maybe?  And he’s been taught to hide them too. He’s also not the only one with that too-stiff posture. These kids aren’t standing up straight. They’re standing at attention.  Number One, their father calls one of them, and what are those? Fucking callsigns?  

Sophie and Nate are watching too.  Their faces are carefully blank.  They aren’t happy, Parker’s pretty sure, but they’re trying not to react.

“What the hell?” Hardison says slowly.  He’s the last one to catch on, though only by a very narrow margin.  He lacks Sophie and Nate’s cynicism, and the years of personal experience Parker and Eliot have, but he’s still too smart to not figure it out almost immediately.  And he is first one to abandon the stunned stillness that’s fallen over the rest of them, pulling his laptop out of his bag, already quickly tapping away at the keys.

“This ain’t right,” Eliot says, voice a growl in his chest.  “This is–this is–it’s televised child abuse.”

Sophie makes a quiet noise of agreement then. “It is,” she says, quietly disgusted. “Those poor children.”

Nate is still staring at the screen, lips pressed flat.

“This Reginald guy looks rich,” Parker says.  Then: “Can we kill him?”

Eliot chokes on his drink.

“How is this even legal?” Sophie asks.  She sounds curious, though not particularly surprised by the grievous violation of child protection laws before her. “It’s so…blatant.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” Hardison says, no longer typing.  “He is–oh shit.” And the typing resumes, faster and a little more panicked than before.

“Hardison?” Nate prods after a moment, giving Hardison a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good,” Hardison says.  “The INTERPOL files on this guy are locked up tight though.  Almost tripped their security system there.  I didn’t, of course, but–”

“You couldn’t get in?” Eliot says, smirking.

“Yet,” Hardison says.  “Dammit, man, it’s been less than five minutes.  Give me a couple hours and that thing is mincemeat.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.  But I do see what’s going on here and,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment.  “Y’all, this is hinky.”

“Yes, I think we got that,” Nate says.  The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardison says.  “This guy has got friends everywhere.  No one knows how he got the kids, but it looks like he technically bought them–”

“He what?” Sophie sounds like she’s been suckerpunched.  Parker can’t think of the last time she heard Sophie sound so shocked.

“Oh yeah.  You think that’s bad?  The numbers aren’t code names  The numbers are their name names.  Like, legally.  I just found an article that said he ordered them by how useful he thinks they are, but judging by the adoption papers it was actually in the order he, uh,” Hardison coughs, “acquired them.”

Eliot is swaying where he stands.  “Common tactic.  He’s pitting them against one another so they’ll be easier to control.  It undermines the self worth of the ones lower on the scale and makes the ones that are higher up feel obligated to do what he wants.  Son of a bitch.”

“…And it looks like he leveraged their powers as excuse to gain exemptions from child protection laws,” Hardison continues like he hasn’t been interrupted.  “Claimed their abilities meant they don’t need the same safeguards.”

“That’s bullshit!” Eliot sounds thunderous.

“I know, buddy,” Hardison reaches over blindly, waving his hand around vaguely until he finds Eliot’s shoulder.  He gives it a comforting squeeze.  “I didn’t write it.”

Eliot heaves in a shuddering breath.  “That’s just–”

“Evil,” Sophie finishes.  

“I’m inclined to agree,” Nate says.  He’s not watching the TV anymore.  He’s staring off into the middle distance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” Parker perks up.  All the grief and distress that had been brewing on her face vanishes like storm clouds parting for the sun.  “Nate! Nate, are you scheming?  You look like you’re scheming.”

Nate makes a noncommittal grunt.  “It would be dangerous.”

“They’re in danger,” Sophie says softly, jerking her head in the television’s direction.

Eliot’s long-since gotten to his feet.  He’s pacing, and that’s how Parker knows he’s furious.  When Eliot is too angry to stand it, he has to move, has to find some way to handle the rage roiling under his skin.  Usually he cooks, chopping vegetables with furious aplomb.  And when he can’t cook, he paces.  

“They’re fucking child soldiers,” he says.  “I can’t–” he cuts himself off with a furious shake of the head.  I can’t believe, he was about to say, Parker thinks, but he had to stop because that’s not true.  Eliot knows better than anyone what the government–what the world does to people they find useful, whether its skill or power that makes them so.

“Y’all are behind,” Hardison says in sing-song.  “I’m already trying to burn this motherfucker down.”

“Hardison, do not tip our hand,” Nate says, snapping into his leader-voice automatically.  Parker grins.  He’s already got a plan, then.  She knew all that reluctance was just for show.  Sophie laughs, as clear and bright as the ringing of a bell, and even Eliot perks up.  

Hardison grumbles, closing his laptop and stuffing it back in his messenger bag.  

Nate is grinning a little too, though it’s that angry smile he gets sometimes when Parker knows he’s thinking about hurting bad people.  She understands.  She’s wearing hers too right now.  Nate glances them all over, and for all the malice dripping off the knife’s edge of that smile, his eyes are soft.  Maybe even a little proud.

“Fine. Fine. You guys win,” Nate says, lifting his hands in defeat.  He’s putting on a show of being beleaguered, but Parker can hear the sparking anger in his voice, and oh, how could she have forgotten?  Sophie is so gently righteous, Hardison so achingly distressed, and Eliot so full of fire and fury that she almost didn’t notice Nate’s seething wrath, nearly forgot that Nate looks at every injured child in need of help and thinks of Sam.  “Everyone, get your things.  Hardison, get us some plane tickets.  Let’s go steal some children.”

“Okay, okay.  I ain’t complaining cause, like, fuck that guy,” Hardison says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  “But stealing children?  Could you have made us sound anymore like kidnappers?”

“Hardison!”

“I’m just saying.”

Sex work is real work and if you disagree, leave.

Y’all really out here getting cucked huh

Dude, he’s fucking the girl you jack off to. That’s the exact opposite of being cucked.

If you don’t think sex work is real work then kindly get the fuck off my blog

Hey,tumblr staff....dont recommend me scantily clad dainty women posing coily? I dont want to see thag

fuck you heres thag

we are gonna be vacuuming up this post for the next five years

It almost looked like they threw a fish upwards into water (the shadowiness of their hand) & it swam off causing a splash of glitter.

Ok but this time the vacuuming will be worth it, that was sick