i hate when white people tell poc that they’re “making everything about race”
YOU were the ones who made it about race. YOU were the ones who made it about race when you held black people in bondage, segregated them, denied their right to vote. YOU were the ones that made it about race when you deported latinx people and sterilized latina women without their consent. YOU were the ones who made it about race when you put asian people in internment camps yet have the audicity to years later praise us as the “model minority” to tear down other poc while downplaying the racism we experienced. YOU were the ones who made it about race when you took away native american land and called them savages only to make their culture into some cute quirk.
don’t get angry at us when we point out we still feel the effects of your racism.
okay it seems I’m late to the party since I had to pick up some chicken tenders but I’m gonna put my input here and I wanna ask, what is a “"serious”“ roleplay blog?? like if you tell me that the definition of a "serious” rp blog is a blog filled with ic posts, quality content posts, and whatever good shit to tickle your fancy, honey you’re wrong. like ngl it just contradicts the fact of that rping is a hobby, and along all you’re doing is making that actual human being your personal entertainment which is just beyond messed up.
no one isn’t obligated or even have a place to tell someone how to run their blog. their blog =/= someone else’s wants. I find it atrocious that people even have the audicity and time to come to someone’s inbox and tell them that their blog isn’t serious and doesn’t have quality content posts. I’m p sure this foresaken website called tungle has an unfollow button and I dunno if anyone really uses it.
For people to like to make fun of diabetes or make food jokes and relate it to diabetes ex: #foodporn #diabetes on a picture of cake
My infusion set was ripped out of my stomach earlier because I got close to a door knob (this happens often, trust me). And I was not in the mood to replace it.
So here I am a few hours without insulin because I didn’t feel like sticking a needle in my stomach.
I feel sick. I have a headache. I feel extremely dehydrated. I’m going to the bathroom every ten minutes. I’m really tired but I know I can’t go to sleep yet because I might end up in a coma if I do. This is just three hours without insulin.
And yet people have the fucking audicity to continue posting pictures of food and tagging it #diabetes as if it’s a joke.
I’m sorry if the chance of me being in a coma is appealing to you. Because that’s what diabetes is actually, not a piece of cake. Not that large pizza. Not that bowl of skittles. Okay?
5 years of this shit and people still remain ignorant around me.
No one can say Louis isn’t motivated to win The Amazing Race. He wants to be the best partner Liam can have, and his mum could definitely use the million quid. But. He noticed Harry two seconds after reading their first clue and then sort of hasn’t stopped. How could he, Harry’s a two-metre, tattooed, good-humoured charmer who probably has an arsenal of bad jokes and fifty pets with unimaginative names. So he kept an eye on him, like he would all their competitors. Just to measure him up.
Or, an Amazing Race AU where Louis and Liam are the driven, athletic guys who are in it to win it, Harry and Niall are the useless best friends that get by due to luck and possibly magic, and somewhere between Italy and Japan Louis falls inconveniently in love. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)
In the spaces between, there is still you. A lot of things have been going on and I still got the audacity to imagine how I want us to meet, if we ever cross paths again. Sometimes, I miss you too much that I have to slap myself with logic just so it will stop moping about you. I know, I know, I should be over this. But you are everywhere and I am not imagining it. I say your name as if you were just here yesterday and I keep on ignoring it only to go back here. Here. I am always here. I have gone everywhere and I am still here. And I don’t know if these are making sense, nothing ever makes sense when it comes to you. But you’re still here and nowhere at the same time. It’s enough for me to be indecisive on whether I should run away or go back to the ruins of the past. I don’t think you will ever be truly gone.
“Stop making a big deal about it!” Michael frustatedly groaned, pinching his nosebridge.
“How could I not? It was the third time in a row!” I yelled.
“I was just helping Crystal. For fuck’s sake, stop being childish!”
“Michael, she’s a fucking business major. And yet she still had the audicity to ask about the tax of a single plate and so on and so forth?”
“I don’t care. She needed help! You’re freaking about these stupid movie nights of ours. It’s just fucking stupid, we watch the same shit over and over again. I mean I wouldn’t even be shocked since the one who picked it is so fucking childi-…” Michael yelled, rambling until the last part, at loss for words for what he just stupidly said.
He looked at my eyes before swallowing the lump on his throat, only for me to speak angrily at him.
“Tough shit.” Ashton nodded his head in disappointment with the other boys all agreeing once I said about the encounter of me and Y/N.
“Especially about the childish part. I mean she’s the only child, plus her parents are freaking doctors, she barely had company when she was young.” Calum shrugged.
“I know.” I sighed.
“Don’t play the victim role now. Show how sorry you truly are.” Luke piped in.
“Totally. Like, we were rooting for you since the start.” Calum nodded.
“Really?” I said, trying not to sound enthusiastic than I already am.
“Duh. Just tell her how you feel.” Ashton said.
“You probably adore her.” Luke shrugged.
“Which means you fucking do it!” Calum laughed, high-fiving the boys.
“Don’t make me say it.” I said as I let my head fall onto my hands.
I sighed for atleast the twentieth time, coming out of the dressing room from a rather long talk me and the boys had.
I was about to turn right, but stopped on my heel once I saw a puffy-eyed Y/N sitting on one of those large trolley boxes sitting right in front of the dressing room I came out of.
“Is it true? What you said in that dressing room awhile ago?” She lightly asked, directing her eyes towards mine.
I nodded, scratching the back of my neck.
“Glad I’m not the only one.” She laughed, her strained voice from crying, giving it more impact.
I grinned, coming up to her and hugging her tightly, burying my head onto the crook of her neck.
“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” I murmured lightly.
“I didn’t actually thought this would be the way I would confess to you.” I said.
“Guess we should expect the unexpected.” She smiled, letting her head lean onto my chest in content.