and for trying to do the right thing within a system which is stacked against her

celestialbrnze  asked:

pidge is most likely slytherin

Mmmmm I LOVE Harry Potter aus and I’ve been seeing a lot of people post their hcs about everyone’s houses… And I agree with like none of them lol so let’s start some Discourse™. Shoutout to @dollygale I love u Mari <3 Write your fic soon okay I’m Dying Squirtle.

This’ll just be like… House headcanons ‘cause this post already turned out long as hell. I’ll post more headcanons later lol.

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Remedy (6)

Bucky x reader

Bucky’s POV.

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, smut-ish, fluffy, cute-ass Bucky who knows exactly how to be sweet and careful.

Taglist is fixed! Please message me if you want to be tagged. (not on this post pls, just message; I just can’t keep up otherwise!)

Remedy (1) Remedy (2) Remedy (3) Remedy (4) Remedy (5)

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WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU PART 3 Full Translation


Just a small note; now that I have a physical copy of the novel, I can see that from the contents page, the book is split into sections and within those sections there are smaller sections. So what we thought was ‘chapter 2’ last time was actually just a continuation of the so called ‘chapter 1’, the first section is reports, that’s why after the prologue it says ‘Report 1’ (and I thought it was weird that the second part on the Bleach app didn’t have ‘report 2’ or something when I was writing down the translations but I just assumed it was ‘chapter 2’ anyway), so THIS is the start of report 2, the last two ‘chapters’ were actually report 1 split in half. I’ll rename the title of those posts to Part 1 and Part 2 respectively and will continue to post future translations in parts like the Bleach app does.


Central Shinou Library.

A long period of Ise Nanao’s break was assigned to reading.

Going to the library that had just been rebuilt, there’s no trace of the original building that she’d normally be accustomed to, it feels a little out of place. Nevertheless, whilst turning over pages engulfed in the smell of paper one after the other, she was not concerned with things other than the contents of the books.

Her hand picked up a new book. It was her favourite book she reread many times over. When she turned over the front cover there was an emblem stamped there indicating that it was a book belonging to the 8th division’s library.

(This book, I stamped it…)

Next to the emblem, the name of the person in charge is filled in [Ise Nanao]. It was her clumsy writing from when she was still very young.

A mid-size library was erected in the residential area of each Gotei 13 division respectively. The damage caused by the Great War varied, since the reconstruction efforts focused on and progressed from the locations that were indispensable to daily life, any libraries with damaged sections were left as it is in a state of closure. When they went to inspect the reconstruction sites, the state of affairs hurt Nanao’s heart, she appealed to captain Commander Shunsui Kyouraku about whether the central library alone could be preferentially restored.

Construction began immediately, the books that survived through war damage were gathered from each library, and stored on brand new bookshelves.

(It was not burnt… Good)

Nanao, who was a member of the 8th division from a very early age, immediately after enlistment was entrusted with organising the book collection of the 8th division’s library.

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The Judge

Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock

Tony stark imagine where (like at the end in CA civil war when he’s hurt) you find him and help him and he’s really hurt?
For Anon
Words: 2,246

Tony Stark had been raised in the spot light and luckily fame suited him. When life forced his hand to make the suit to ensure his survival, he thrived and his fame grew more. With reluctance on Fury’s part, Tony was eventually allowed to join the Avengers where he met you. Initially, to Tony, you had just been someone to prove wrong, you were an agent and a close friend of both Romanov and Barton and to put it plainly, you simply couldn’t be bothered to deal with the super-ego that was Tony Stark. Dealing with a rich boy playing superhero held no appeal for you, no matter the origin or original need for the suit.

And he hated it.

People either loved him or loathed him but nobody just ignored Tony Stark and so what started as stubborn attention seeking on his part slowly developed into a need for your approval. After a while you grew warmer to his presence and when he and Pepper called things a day, amicably for the most part, he showered you with affection.

Thankfully, as you were wondering why your new friend had become so needy, Barton took pity on you and explained that Tony was ‘pursing you’ and after a girl’s night with Natasha and Clint’s wife, you decided you weren’t completely against the idea.

By the time the pair of you had gotten your heads together and decided to try going on a date the Avengers were a household name and Tony Stark was a name on everybody’s lips, his fame had peaked and he was about to realise how deadly fame could be.

When Tony was first called out over a network broadcast by a guy calling himself The Judge, Tony had laughed during the press conference.
“I don’t know which court he thinks that he’s ruling the guy is clearly a whack job.” Tony laughed to the cameras.
You stood to the back of the room with Clint, Nat and Steve. Steve nudged you and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Jarvis is trying to find an address for the broadcast.”
“Let’s hope that we can keep Tony behaving himself until then.” Nat mused.
“This is Stark that we’re talking about.” Clint sniggered.
“Hey that’s Y/N’s almost boyfriend that you’re badmouthing.” Nat argued.
“Hard to deny it though.” You smirked as did your friends.

You focused back into the conference as Tony laughed and leaned down into a reports mic.
“The guy couldn’t even choose a decent name. You can tell him from me: anytime, anyplace.” He boasted as the sea of reported erupted in flashes of photography.
You sighed and leaned back against the wall, “So much for keeping him out of trouble.”
Steve patted your shoulder and Clint gave you a fake sympathetic smile, “Come on, the attitude problem is at least 40% of why you like him.”
Crossing your arms you watched Tony lapping up the attention and moulding the reporter’s opinions in the way that only he could, “About 30%.” You answered Clint who laughed.

The laughing stopped soon.

The Judge was a lot more resourceful then any of you could have guessed and he had twice now had Tony attacked in public by hired assassins. Luckily Tony always had a version of his suit on him since its systems helped him breath through his panic attacks and the second time you had been on your way to meet Tony when you had seen Iron Man throwing people around in the middle of the road and hit two of the assailants with your truck.

He’d given you a high-five mid battle for that one.

But that was the last straw and you decided to it was time for Tony to go into lockdown and after a blinding row where you threatened to run him over too, he agreed to go along with it – for now.

And he did really mean too, he spent three whole days in doors and spending them in bed with you or downstairs in his lab with Bruce helped him take his mind off of the fact that he was basically grounded and that he was sure Steve, with his perfect fucking face, was rubbing it in.

But then the letters came.

They were unassuming normal envelopes and usually he’d ignore all post and have it sent through to Pepper’s assistants to open but these didn’t have the company address on, they simply had ‘Tony Stark’ scrawled across them.
Out of sheer boredom he stuck his finger under the lip of the envelope and ripped it open and pulled out the contents. There was no letter only a photograph of you carrying a stack of pizzas down the street that was carrying a stack of other boxes full of side dishes.

Tony’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward in his chair to study the photo because dropping it on the desk and opening another envelop.
It was a photo of you and Nat at the coffee shop down the street.

He opened another.
A photo of you and Tony hiding out on the balcony during one of his fancy business parties.

You fixing Tony’s tie.

You doing the grocery shopping with Clint.

Tony swallowed hard, his heart already thumping. The last photo was from today, you’d come down to the lab in that outfit to ask if he needed anything because you were going to shop with Clint.
He opened the last envelope and pulled out a crumbled notepad page with a cell phone number scrawled across it.
He felt so dizzy that he could barely punch the numbers into his phone. He held his ear to his phone, he knew that he was about to get his time and place. The phone clicked as though someone had answered and his breath hitched but when no one spoke Tony was overcome with rage, “Listen Judge or whatever bullshit name you decided to call yourself, your problem is with me not her. You got that? You leave her out of this.” He snarled.

“I’m watching her right now as a matter of fact,” The male voice answering was steady and unaffected by Tony’s outburst, “I can see why you were jealous of her and Clint’s friendship but I’m sorry to say she seems to be smitten with you. Can’t see why for the life of me, the poor girl.”
“Leave her out of this, it’s me you have a problem with.” Tony pleaded.
The voice on the other side let out a humoured breath, “You don’t get to make that call and unless you follow what I say to the letter then it will be her problem, Mr. Stark.”

Pissed, mad, furious, livid.

None of them came close to describing just how fucked off you were with Tony right now. Okay so you hadn’t expected him to go along with the whole ‘grounded’ thing for as long as he had but flying off on his own to go fight some super villain.

Well, you were gonna kick his ass.

He hadn’t left you a note or anything, you’d simply come down to the lab to bring him his damn blueberries and found creepy photographs of yourself hidden under his trash. Looking in weird places for clues was a shield thing. Bruce tried to access JAVIS for you for any indication of what could have happened and, after some probing, it seemed that JAVIS must have been busy being used within Tony’s suit and Bruce was able to get you security footage of Tony’s phone call.

You wanted to punch the stupid man in his stupid beautiful face but you knew that if you’d been presented with the same situation then you probably could have took off on your own to try and fix it as well.
Why this Judge guy would have chosen a mountain for a showdown was beyond you but if you had to guess it would have been because of the difficultly that it gave Clint and Nat when trying to land the carrier.
Steve and Thor jumped out before you’d even landed and just as it touched down you were skidding down the ramp and towards the sign of battle. You made it to the fight just as Thor caught an injured Iron Man mid-flight and Steve punched his assailant off into the trees. He was a monster of man, even the giant forms of Thor and Steve were dwarfed by this man.

He couldn’t be human.

But you didn’t care right now, Thor set Tony down as you skidded to kneel next to him before leaving to help Steve, God knows that he’d need it. Your hands found the back of his helmet instantly and lifted the release switch.
The mask withdrew and you could see his face. His eyes stayed close and you leaned down to his face and waited, terrified, until a soft breath escaped his lips and tickled your cheek. Your relief came out as a loud groan as you leaned down and kissed his nose, his cheeks and his forehead in pure happiness.
“JARVIS, can you give me a run down?” You asked loudly hoping that somehow Tony’s programming would have allowed for something like this.
Thankfully, he had.
“Mr Stark’s breathing is laboured and he’s suffered an abdominal wound that’s caused an internal haemorrhage.” The words made you pale and you pressed your headset, “Did you guys hear that? Clint, Nat we have to get him out of here now.”
Gunfire answered you in your ear before Clint’s shouting, “Try to get him comfy Y/N, we can’t leave Thor and Steve with this guy. He’s kicking our asses.”
You hissed in anger and focused back on Tony, his eyes where still closed but he tried to move his hand. You caught it and whispered down, “Shh, don’t move Tony. Don’t panic, I’m here.”
“Y/N.” He croaked out and it looked as though he was trying to open his eyes but was too fatigued, “You gotta get out of here, he’s gonna-”

“I don’t give a shit,” You hissed, your hands on his cheeks, “I’m not going anywhere until you’re okay.”

With JARVIS’ help you navigated Tony into a position that would be more comfortable for him but your head snapped up at the sound of engines and an almighty roar. The Hulk slammed down with both feet right before you with War Machine landing beside him.

“Cavalry’s here. Someone help Y/N get Tony outta here.” Rhodes ordered.
“Clint go with Y/N, we’ll need Nat to help settle down the big guy.” Steve told you and then Rhodes and The Hulk where gone soon to be replaced by Clint who helped you move Tony and his ridiculously heavy suit back to the carrier with Clint joking all the while about how he always had to come and save Tony’s ass. He was trying to cheer you up but right now all you wanted to do was get Tony somewhere safe and to a decent doctor.
He came around slightly on the flight back, his hand finding yours and he breathed harshly, “Don’t want surgery.”
You gave him a soft smile, “Tony you need it, I’m sorry.”
“No.” He spat out, his dark eyes opening and focusing on you. Pleading for you to understand and you did.

You put your hand on his cheek, held his gaze and gave him a lovely smile before leaning down to whisper, “I know you’re scared but you’re safe. You’re not back in the cave and they won’t touch the Arc reactor. They’re going to help you. I promise you that you’re safe, I’m not going to ever let anyone hurt you like that I promise.”
His eyes welled but he stared at you and you whispered your promise again.


Tony freaked out when he woke up but you’d seen it coming so you were sat beside the bed and caught him before he could hurt himself or the doctors. You held him to you and his arms clamped around your body, he pushed his face into the crook of your neck and breathed through his panic.
“You’re safe.” You whispered and moved your hands up slowly to run them through his hair and hmm’d lowly.
“He was going to hurt you. He was goin-” He started to you sshh’d him and hummed lowly to calm him again.
“He’s been apprehended, don’t worry.” You pulled backed to look into his eyes, “Tony you’re on your own any more so you shouldn’t act like it. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“I’m sorry.” He said simply and though you’d not expected the readiness of his apology you didn’t push it any further and instead helped guide him to lie back down and lay next to him.
“You’re gonna call the doctor in a minute aren’t you?” Tony asked after moment and you didn’t need to look up at him to know that he was pouting.
“Yes and you’re going to be good and take their advice.” You cuddled up to his side, “Because then when you’re better I can kick your ass for being so stupid.”
He let out a breathy laugh and kissed the top of your head, “Sounds fair.”

Gaming Gone Wrong: Peter Maximoff One Shot

Warnings: food mention, innuendo, kissing, touching, cuddling, let me know if there are more :)

A/N: Thanks for the request! This was fun to do and I surprised myself at how much I remembered about the workings of pin ball machines. I just had to look up the names of a couple things to be more official. 

Originally posted by lehnsherr-stark

Originally posted by dollmeat3

(not my gifs)

Saturday nights were your favorite because that meant movie night with your boyfriend, Peter. This time, you were supposed to bring the movie and food since last week he brought popcorn, candy, and Grease over to your place.

After two years of this tradition, you don’t even bother knocking. In fact, his mother personally gave you a key saying that you were part of the family and that family can open the door themselves.

Honey, I’m hoooomeeeee!” you yelled out in a deep, joking voice as you descended the steps to Peter’s basement.

His head snapped to look at you, his game of ping-pong long forgotten as a bright smile replaced his concentrated expression.

“Babe!” he screeched with excitement. 

In less than a second, he was standing in front of you, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair as he brought you in for a quick, yet passionate, kiss.

“Well that was one hell of a way to say ‘hi’,” you said laughing, feeling your head spin from his actions.

“Well I’m one hell of a guy,” he stated with a smirk before grabbing the pizza box out of your hands and walking it over to the table.

“Good choice on the pizza,” he praised as he made his way back over to your figure which was now lounging on the couch.

“Thanks, Petey!”

Once he got within a few feet, you made grabby-hands in his direction to signal that you wanted him to cuddle you. He grinned at the sight, this slowly turning into a smirk as he said, “DEAD WEIGHT!” before collapsing on top of you.

“nO!” you squealed, both laughter and his body weight suppressing your breathing.

“Pete, move!” you managed to get out between laughs.

“Okie,” he said sweetly before shifting around until he had you laying on top of him while his back was against the sofa cushions.

“Better?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Much,” you replied following a sigh of content.

After a few moments of silently relishing in each other’s presence, Peter asked,

“Did you bring a movie over?”

“Yup. I brought A New Hope,” you responded, your voice sounding muffled as your mouth was resting against the skin between his neck and shoulder.

“No offense to Star Wars, but I don’t really wanna watch it tonight…” he confessed after hearing your reply.

“What?!” you questioned, propping yourself up on your arms so you could look him in the eyes to see if he was kidding or not.

“Sorry, it’s just we watched it two days ago with our friends. We should watch something else,” he explained, averting his gaze from your piercing one.

“Fine,” you agreed, releasing a huff as you let your head fall back onto his chest.

“What did you want to watch then?” you asked after a minute.

“I don’t know, maybe you should go look at that stack over there and pick since it’s your night to choose anyways.”

You nodded in agreement and carefully dismounted your boyfriend to head over to the untidy piles of various VHS tapes he had sprawled out on his Pac-Man machine. As you sorted through them, you realized that you had seen each of these movies at least once in the past month.

“Peter,” you began as you pivoted to face him, “we’ve seen all these recently too.”

He sat up from his position laying down and was immediately standing in front of you in the blink of an eye.

“What do you wanna do then?”

You smirked as you dragged your fingers up his bare arms, causing goose-bumps to rise and him to visibly shiver.

“Well, I have a few ideas,” you hinted suggestively, “but one is my favorite.”

Peter was speechless. His eyes widened with lust as his eyebrows shot up in surprise at your words. You wrapped his arms around your waist and brought yours to rest in his hair. Just as you were leaning in to kiss him, you heard Peter’s mother begin to walk down the stairs.

Peter groaned at the interruption (cuz he was so close!) and backed away from your bewitching body, racing over to one of his pin ball machines.

“Hey, Peter!” she said as she entered the room. 

“Hi, Mom,” he stated, disappointment evident in his tone as he walked over to her waiting arms and hugged her in greeting. After their short embrace, she hurried over and enveloped you in a motherly hug.

“Hello, my dear! I trust Peter is behaving?” she questioned.

“Mom!” Peter whined.

“Oh shush! I’m just making conversation!” she chastised him, causing his shoulders to droop and for him to roll his eyes as if he were a child once again.

“I can see that Peter doesn’t want me interrupting your little date so I’ll get back to unloading the groceries. It was nice to see you, Y/N.” she said with a slight chuckle as she made her was towards the staircase once again.

“It was great to see you too, Ms. Maximoff!” you replied as you watched her go back up the stairs.

Once she closed the door behind her, Peter smirked at you and next thing you knew you were up against one of his gaming machines.

“Now, where were we,” he said with a smirk.

“Sorry Petey, but the moment’s passed,” you said plainly while you patted his shoulder and went over to get a slice of pizza.

But baaaaaaabe!” he whined once again. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as you munched on the slice of pizza that you had just grabbed from the box.

“Sorry, Pete, but I’m hungry now.”

Finnneeeeeee,” he said, sighing as he followed suit and took a piece for himself before stomping his way over to his Star Wars pin ball machine and playing- somehow- one-handed as he ate his pizza.

You made your way over to observe the game. What else were you going to do for entertainment if neither of you wanted to watch any of the movies that you had lying around. Lights flashes and various noises, including a Wookie growl, emanated from the system, the bright red numbers “556234″ flashing across a screen.

“Is that the score that you just got?” you guessed.

“No, that’s my high score, the little numbers on the bottom left hand side of the screen is each score I make other than that,” he corrected, his eyes remaining focused on his movements.

“Cool,” you said nonchalantly.

“Can I try?”

“Sure, just let me finish this round,” he stated, seconds later the game emitting the same noises as before.

He stepped back and gestured with his right hand for you to take his place, his left occupied with holding his pizza slice. 

“Okay, so here’s how it works: this little nozzle right here is how you start the game. You pull it back and let it go to shoot the ball into the gaming area. Once you do that, use these little red buttons to control the flipper bats that hit it away from the out hole; got it?”

“Got it!” you replied with determination.

Five minutes went by and you were still playing the same round, the bonus multiplier lights going crazy each time you hit the ball in that direction. You had never been so focused on something you’re entire life; you didn’t even notice Peter’s fingers quickly tapping against the sides of his thighs nervously.

Eventually, though, you missed and the ball rolled into the out hole. Instead of the usual sound effects that you heard after Peter played, the Star Wars song of victory began to fill the quiet room. You tilted your head in confusion. Why was it acting different? You looked to Peter for an answer, but found his eyes glued to the screen on the machine that had a new set of numbers where his high score had been. “657930.” That’s 101,696 points better than Peter’s previous high score. Your mouth opened in shock as a smile spread on your face.

“Look, Pete! Oh my god! I beat your high score!”

He stared at the figures dumbfounded.

“I play this game every day. How are you better than me?”

“I don’t know! I guess this is some sort of secret talent I have… Oh! Maybe this is my mutation! Maybe I’m cool like you!” you joked excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever,” was all he spoke before zooming over to the pizza box to get more, only to find it empty. He exhaled heavily and walked over to the couch, falling down, not quite so gracefully, and landing face first against the pillows.

“Peter? You’re not mad at me for beating your high score, are you?”

“No, why would you say that,” he said in a monotone voice yet it still oozed sarcasm.

“Awe, you’re mad because I beat you,” you taunted and proceeded to go and sit beside his body.

“I’m sorry, babe. I can see how that might be frustrating. I never would have played if I knew I’d do that.”

He turned his head onto its side so that he could look at you through his peripheral vision.

‘It’s okay. Sorry I’m all moody; it’s just that kinda thing is important to me.”

“I know,” you said as you let your hand navigate through his silver hair.

“Hey,” you spoke, suddenly getting an idea. “I know how to make you feel better about this.”

“Hm?” he hummed in response.

You smiled devilishly as you stood and turned him over before lowering yourself down to straddle him. Still sporting your smirk, you leaned down and brushed your lips against his, pretending that you were going to be soft and gentle, when instead you swiftly captured his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled back slightly before releasing it. You followed this action by dominating his lips with yours, only being interrupted when Peter pulls away, the loss of contact causing you to pout.

“You need to beat my high scores more often,” he said breathlessly, clearly amazed, and pleased, with your actions.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” you joked before peppering quick kisses all over his face, causing a fit of giggles to burst out from his smiling mouth.

Thanks for the request: anonymous


I’ll see your face again – A Salute Extra

I think one of the most frequently asked questions I’ve gotten about Salute is whether Harry ever sees his family again. And because there’s no time like Christmas to be with family, well, there’s this.

December 26, 2015

“Would you hurry up?”

Harry sent a scowl over his shoulder, purposely slowing down as Piper tried to shove him into the lift of their hotel.

“Do I need to remind you that I’m carrying a cannister of VX in this case?” he asked as he carefully lifted the case in his hand, a leather briefcase on the exterior that was fortified with layers of titanium on the interior. “If I drop this and it cracks open, it’ll paralyse all of us in seconds and we’ll all die of asphyxiation.”

Piper immediately retracted her hands, sending a sheepish smile in Harry’s direction that he answered with a roll of his eyes. “Sorry,” she murmured as she brushed off the back of his suit jacket where she’d creased it, following him as he stepped into the lift. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Harry asked incredulously, quirking his brow at Piper as he leaned across to press the button for their floor, both hands grasping the handle of the case as the doors shut. “The most dangerous nerve agent in the world and you just forgot?” He snorted a laugh as he propped up against the back wall of the lift, shaking his head. “I’m bloody glad I’m the one that’s carrying the case now that I know that.”

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art by @zycrie

That Summer

(parts one and two found here)

Summary: Life is short, and summer is infinitely shorter. (They are seated in Percy’s bedroom when it all begins– when that summer begins to reveal what it has in store for them, when it begins to crack open and reveal itself. From then on, the summer pours out.) (told in four parts)

Word count: approx. 6000 (total)

The Middle (iii)

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UNDOING THE ERASURE OF                              TWOC

                                   Undoing the Erasure of TWOC

        Holding Accountable Silent Society andStructural Oppression

Before we begin we mustname just a few of our fallen Twoc sisters. Goddesses Mia Henderson, Islan Nettles,Tiffany Edwards, Kandy Hall, Tiffany Gooden, Lamia Beard, Ty Underwood, all ourTrans sisters lost, we remember you beautiful, living, honored ancestors. Walk in light. Walk in love. Walk in power.

This article has been a long time coming. I began etching these words to address a society that continues to erase Twoc after Goddess Eylul Cansun, a Transwoman of color from Istanbul, made a suicide video and had little coverage while goddess Leelah Alcorn’s suicide note was waved across national media outlets as if what she said had not already been said by countless Trans folk living and dead. While Sister Leelah was given a victim narrative and garnered a hashtag, Sister Eylul who was a living Trans adult was silenced. I cannot help but to feel the lack of coverage was because her suicide openly attacked a system that continues to value whiteness, cisnormativity, men and queer identity as a fetish over living Trans persons. She said society wouldn’t let her live, work, thrive; she was attacking a whole way of life that continues to offer us shining examples of mainstream success while oppressing most of the Trans population.

Now we are in 2015 and five Transwomen of color are dead already—that is one for every week of the new year . And as I said before, most of media and much of society has been silent. When the media speaks, although Transwomen are quoted, I have yet to see these same Transwomen honored for the work they have already been doing around fighting structural oppression. The Trans community has already been unpacking and fighting the webs of oppression which become manifest in the silence around Twoc deaths, and the oppressive structures that continue to tighten nooses around the necks of many living Trans persons of color.

Let me be clear, the Trans sisters, brothers and siblings with whom I break bread know the names of our fallen sisters, we speak them, we honor them. We also use any means at our disposal to fight the oppressive systems that led to our sisters’ murders. Recently, Goddesses Katrina Goodlett, Lourdes Ashley Hunter, Elle Hearns, myself and the other sisters of TWOCC spoke openly about the lack of media outlets taking accountability for their silence around our sisters’ lives. I watched how some folk made excuses for their ignorance while others attacked me and my sisters for our unapologetic critique of the visibility police. The same people who held the supposed banner of allyship were now utilizing the learned behaviors and violent tools of structural oppression to attempt an erasure of our analysis (and through it our lives, and voices). I too witnessed how certain organizations used our Trans brothers and Cis black sisters to release statements and speak on television programs about Leelah (and sometimes our Twoc sisters’ murders) but rarely offered a platform to black Trans women who are the most marginalized.

Our society must begin to acknowledge the way structural oppression leads to accepted silence around the deaths of Twoc and the continued oppression Trans persons face.

1. Society allows it.

At the heart of mainstream society is a desire for the extinction of the Transwoman. Violence against Trans identities is ingrained in the founding of this country. In order to divest indigenous people of communicative, religious and resistant power, the colonization of mind, body and soul must be forcefully placed upon them and they must begin to process themselves through a foreign gaze. This process to gain normalcy must be reinforced through several generations, so by 2015 the silencing of living Transwomen, the erasure of our narratives and the divesting of our humanity by every aspect of society is so common place we begin to see transness as a foreign intrusion of gender as opposed to a spiritual reality manifesting, and essential to the sustainability of a healthy society.

2. Racism and transphobia cannot be discussed separately.

Because ransphobia, as we know it, has roots in colonization and was a tool utilized by a burgeoning idea of whiteness to oppress brown and black folk, you cannot separate the conversation of one from the other. Many people have tried, and we have seen what this leads to: some Trans folk, who become assimilationist begin to police transness and human rights for Trans folk through a white supremacy gaze, meanwhile some black folk (whether queer or not) co-sign on the violence we black Transwomen face by attempting to silence anyone who speaks out for our rights.

3. Structural oppression says there can only be one marginalized person to succeed from each generation; so society will use celebrity visibility as an excuse to ignore the conversation and work around trans intersectionality.

We cannot discuss visibility without also realizing and critiquing who holds the reigns of visibility. Structural oppression says there can only be limited of success stories and then attempts to use the image of our successful sisters against us, pushing the idea that if they made it and you do not ‘there must be something wrong with you’ or you are not trying hard enough. Meanwhile, there are living breathing Twoc being slain by their lovers, killed in the streets, tokenized on their jobs and erased completely from discourse, legislative meetings and a living wage.

4. Cismen wanting Transwomen to remain their secret sex fetishes.

Goddess Ts Madison on the Kitty Bella show said (that because of structural oppression) sex work is often the first way many trans women are able to access money. It is exponentially harder for a Transwoman to access spaces of education, wealth and privilege, no matter what state of bodily transition she is in. The sexual desires and misogynistic ways men have been taught to see womanhood have been instrumental in denying access to certain spaces for Transwomen. Many men in power attempt to keep Transwomen from accessing money through any other means other than a rigid form of fetishization and sexual exploitation. We also have a way in this society of vilifying sex workers while celebrating and glorifying the men with the means, power and privilege to purchase their services.

5. Assimilation is not freedom; assimilation is not safety.

Structural oppression would have us buy into the idea that assimilation offers freedom to the marginalized. Paired with this idea around a Cis controlled visibility machine, the false tales that assimilationism weaves are deadly. Cis folk use it as a bargaining chip in Cis rationality for the violence Transwomen face. Structural oppression upholds an image of what perfection is in order to promote continued complacency around the lived experiences of those whom assimilation does not list within its parameters. Respectability politics (abusers dynamics) pushes the agenda of who has the right to be honored as a martyr and who simply becomes another number and name read off at Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR). The truth about assimilation is that the criteria are always shifting and the odds will always be stacked against black and brown folk. So your money, your beauty your fame your success and your hard work still won’t save you from violence, and certainly have never been a means of true safety for the black woman. Most courts and law enforcement have been instrumental in violence against Trans women.

6. The Fear of the Black Goddess is the fear of the Black Woman.

The first goddess is the black Goddess from her all things have sprung. Because religious colonization is a tactic used by structural oppression, we must also include the attempted enslavement of the black spiritual body as part of discourse around the erasure of trans people. All things become discovered, reinvented and born from black womanhood and attempts to suppress access to divine power and human rights for her are at the heart of the fear that structural oppression has forced on marginalized communities. In cultures where the Goddess was revered the binary was not used as an ideological prison, it was simply two ends of a spectrum upon which each individual had the power to choose their place. When black Transwomen are loved, seen as essential and honored amongst their people, watch how the waves will ripple. Just watch.

7. Fear of Trans women of color leadership.

I have attended so many meetings in which Trans leaders’ names that are sacred on my tongue, women who have impacted me directly and siblings who have elevated my life are not known. Then, when my sisters and I begin to speak in these meetings, some Cis folk begin to berate us for our unapologetic analysis. They in their privilege are so used to trampling and co-opting Trans space that they grow belligerent when Trans women celebrate, acknowledge and push to the forefront our own leaders. Some of these organizations will go so far as to attempt to hire a white Trans man to act as their “allyship” mouthpiece while actively engaging in the erasure of black Transwomen, the very people they claim they seek to serve.

Let me say this, tokenization is no longer an option for Trans folk in any capacity, its normalcy soon becomes a poison that leads to the silencing and elimination of Trans lives. Tokenization doesn’t honor Transwomen of color leadership and often relegates us to names called at TDOR and smiling faces on posters. To media outlets and organizations trying to make us tokens, we see you and we won’t stand for it. Collaborative efforts and allyship should not sound like “Trans folk, cook the meal for us, but eat the scraps while we conveniently forget your names, accomplishments, and try to co-opt your movement”

We must begin to honor the voices, lives and experiences of black Trans folk just as we must begin to honor the spaces of exclusive transness we cultivate and manifest. We must begin to acknowledge the work of Trans folk as if it were the very breath of life because, quite frankly, for many of us it is. We have to stop trying to dictate, through the gaze of structural oppression, which Trans lives deserve media attention and which ones do not.  We must take accountability for not knowing names like Islan nettles and Gizzy Fowler, and we must be honest that Cis appropriation and privilege are more valued by media than Trans truth.

Stop it. Stop co-signing on our deaths, stop asking for our compliance and stop asking us for quotes, free labor, our bodies and our wisdom while telling us why you can’t hire us. The social and physical violence you offer us in life is the violence which brings about our death.

 In closing, I honor our fallen Twoc and I invite you to learn their names but do not think your work is complete, learn the names of living Twoc too. For if you cannot honor the living, you certainly won’t be able to honor the dead; for they are us and we are them. Then ask (with the intentionality and reality of action) “Tran women of color, what does support look like to you?”

Dane Figueroa Edidi

Good Enough

Imagine youget caught by a Ghoul and Dean, who’s not in his best moment, has to go get you.

Words: 3557

Dean x Reader

 Warning: language, kind of smut

You laid on your bed alone, and naked. Dean had already took off to his own bed and yours was feeling cold, just as you were, and a single tear rolled down your cheek before you stood up and started to dress. If you kept doing this, you were going to get hurt, if you weren’t already.

It was nearly 3a.m. but that wasn’t going to stop you, you were a stress eater, and right now you were under a lot of stress. You opened the door of the motel room, glared just once to the sleeping figure, and started walking towards the closest 24/7 store you could find, and while doing it, you began to think about your situation.

It had all started a couple of months back, after the last fight between Dean and Sam, when the younger brother had took of the bunker to hunt on his own. You had stayed with Dean because there was a force keeping you next to him, something you couldn’t control neither accept.

“Find me a hunt, NOW” Dean had said to you and locked himself on his room.

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