because of the silence

fujoshits are weak cowards. they cry and bitch about how theyre so fucking oppressed for thinking gay animes doing sex is hot but they’ve never come close to experiencing the violence intolerance and hate i am forced to suffer through every day because i love feet and refuse to be ashamed of that. my love of feet isn’t even a fucking fetish or kink but people still bully and harass me every waking moment. countless times i have been told to kill myself and delete my account, and even pee my pants. i have been beaten and had empty soda bottles thrown at me because i will not let hate silence me. you fucking ungrateful, whiny shits should be thankful you’ll never have to go through what i go through.

i’ve probably already said it but it’s late (1:35 AM) and i’m working so I babble: 

I think what i genuinely like about Jimriel right now is Jim and how much he wants to be a better person because of Ariel. 

And it’s also very sad because you have this kid who has made mistakes, yes. Big ones even. But now he sees this girl and he really admires her and is attracted to her and just wants to be a part of her life. 

But he’s shamed himself into silence because of who he’s been and it’s like he wants to make himself perfect before approaching her because he feels he is that below her. And yet part of it also is this healthy betterment. like he does want to just be a better person because of her.

it’s so bittersweet and lovely and melancholy and i love it.

Don’t get me wrong, I have several gripes with jimriel, as many of you know. Which is why I haven’t been able to get into entirely.

but that part of it? like wow. makes me love it so much. like in every way. 

i’m sorry for typos. i’m beyond exhausted and this is the real me at that point 

I was thinking today about how much I’ve put poor dnd DM @raisehelia through over the years

1st campaign: I banished the final boss to another plane on my first turn

2nd campaign: I convinced the rest of the party not to fight the boss or his pet hydra because of moral relativism

3rd campaign: I tied up and silenced the lich so he couldn’t move within melee range or cast spells

honestly I’m sorry (I’m not). you work hard.


This is beyond disgusting.

Jazzy Rowe could have died, because of her roommates racism. The school tried to intimidate her into silence, but she speaking out and the multi cultural organizations at the school are meeting tomorrow (Nov. 1st) to support her.

EDIT: THIS POST IS A THREAD AND HAS FULLY UPDATED DETAILS ADDED ON ABOUT THE CASE. ALOT OF YOU ARE REBLOGGING THIS POST WITHOUT THE LATEST INFO *Go to blog to reblog thread of all public knowledge of the case* thank you, Susie 💕Reading comprehension. This is a completed thread post. Don’t embarrass yourself by just posting this and then having your followers read this message.
The signs as excellent horror films

Aries: Alien (1979)

Taurus: The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Gemini: The Shining (1980)

Cancer: It Follows (2015)

Leo: Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Virgo: The Exorcist (1974)

Libra: Goodnight Mommy (Ich seh, Ich seh) (2014)

Scorpio: The Babadook (2014)

Sagittarius: Black Swan (2010)

Capricorn: Les Diaboliques (1955)

Aquarius: The Blair Witch Project (1999)

Pisces: Misery (1990)

There’s over 300 languages spoken in London

Less than half of the population is white british

There are large areas with little to no white population

so if your show is set in London and has an all white cast you’re not even being remotely accurate

since it’s asexual awareness week I wanna rec some books with great ace characters from all over the ace spectrum 
(some have more than one!!!!!!! actually i think all of my recs have more than one tbh)


Collection of short stories:


  • McGonagall: Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk about the school at night.
  • Harry: But I need to get into the Slytherin dorms.
  • McGonagall: And why on earth would you need to do that?
  • Harry: I err... lost something there.
  • McGonagall: And what exactly did you lose, Mr. Potter?
  • Harry: My heart.
  • Draco: *suddenly appearing* His virginity, that's what he lost! *while dragging Harry away* Don't be sappy, Potter!

“sorry i’m thinking about cats again”

(based on something that happened between a friend and myself, except that i was watching dog videos)

(also im sry i changed my url haha sweats)




When you think “What would I have done when the Nazis rose to power?” or “Which side would I have been on in the Civil War?” or other similar questions (usually thinking you’d be on the good side, fighting against the evil) just ask yourself: “Where am I and what am I doing right now?”

I can tell you where a lot of your black and Jewish friends are: terrified.

I’m writing to tell you
it hurts.
On the best days, he tastes like too much red wine
and it’s only now that it is easier for him
to tell you he loves you—
to tell you
what you wait/deserve/want
to hear.
After the bar, he fairytales into late night laughter
and falling asleep bare-skinned.
These have become the best nights,
and my sweetheart, they come so seldom.
It is now that you avoid eye contact
with the letters you wrote to yourself
at fifteen;
how she would shake her fists
and tell me she grew up
to be stronger than this–
that we didn’t bruise to become softer,
we didn’t love so damn hard
because we wanted silence.
More than I can paint in letters,
this hurts.
After you,
I don’t know if I’ll ever trust again.
After you,
is a life I never pictured.
—  Schuyler Peck, I Will Cross This River

anonymous asked:

For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." thing: In a canon setting, except Stiles is older, went to highschool with Derek and was friend with him. He can be a deputy at the beginning, trying to deal with a newly bitten Scott, whom he considers a little brother, and the return of Derek, his friend from school and old (current) crush. Do you think it's a good idea?

So, turns out I love this idea more than anything, and I have so many ideas about this and how it would proceed, but I’m not rewriting the first season, okay. I’m not.

Stiles was very cold, very wet, and very tired, because it was midnight, raining, and he was out in the preserve looking for a body.

Half a body.

They had the bottom half, they just had to find the part they could actually ID.

East side clear, the radio on his shoulder crackled, and his dad’s voice responded for the pair of deputies to head north to meet up with the K9 team. Everything cool was happening on the northside, and yet Stiles was stuck on the southside of the preserve, with Jordan Parrish.

Jordan Parrish of unending optimism and energy.

How he got paired up with the newbie, he’d never know.

Okay, he would, because technically he was also a newbie, except he really wasn’t. Sure, he might’ve been somewhat new to being employed as a deputy of the Sheriff’s Station of Beacon County, but he’d literally grown up in that station; not one person there could say he was really a rookie.

“God, this sucks,” Stiles muttered, sweeping his flashlight back and forth across the wet and muddy ground in front of him. So far he’d found all of two dead rabbits and some dog shit someone didn’t clean up, so, real thrilling night here. Great search.

“Could be worse,” Parrish responded lightly with a shrug, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the darkness in front of him.

“Don’t say Afghanistan.”

The audible smirk in the following pause told him that was exactly what Parrish was about to say.

“I’d rather be a little damp than have sand in my boots, any day.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t step in that puddle.” Stiles’ foot was still freezing and squelched even more than the muddy forest floor beneath it.

It sucked that a woman died, yes, but Stiles was also having a rotten time.

Time passed, there were more updates of nothing found over the radio, a couple dog barks in the distance, and still they found no body.

Given that it was almost one in the morning and everyone Stiles normally talked to was either at home asleep or out in the woods with him on the radio, it took a second for his ringing cellphone to register beyond a mild annoyance that Parrish would have his phone on that loud during his shift.

“You gonna get that?” Parrish asked, and Stiles frowned at him for a second before realizing that was indeed his ringtone, and if someone was calling this late, it was probably something serious.

He only glanced at the caller ID for the briefest second as he answered.

“Yo, Scotty, what’s up?” He was about to add that he couldn’t talk right then when Scott’s panicked babbling steamrolled through his mind.

“Stiles! Oh god, you have to come get me! You’re in the preserve right? Because I’m pretty sure I’m lost, and something bit me, and—”

“Wait, hang on, you’re where?” He was tired, he was struggling to keep up with everything, and Scott was breathing like he would be needing his inhaler in about five seconds. “Why the hell are you in the woods, you know we’re looking for a body right?” he hissed into the phone, glancing briefly at Parrish, who was watching with raised eyebrows.

“Problem, Stiles?”

He shook his head, trying to act casual as Scott frantically rambled out,

“I’m by the west entrance to the preserve, I think? Stiles, I don’t know what the hell it was, but it came out of nowhere, and I’m bleeding, and I can’t find Erica—”

“Erica’s with you?” Christ, it just got better and better. “Okay, stay where you are, I’ll come find you and I’ll tell everyone to keep an eye out for Erica.”

That didn’t calm Scott down at all.

“You can’t do that, her parents would kill her if cops brought her home! You know how crazy they are!”

Stiles rubbed at his forehead. He was cold and wet and tired and now he was getting a headache. “Yes, because she has epilepsy, Scott! She could die out here.” Parrish was coming over, looking concerned. “Just stay where you are, we’re coming.”

He hung up with a frustrated huff.

“Scott’s out here?” Parrish asked, already heading south, so clearly that phone call hadn’t been as discreet as Stiles would’ve liked. At least he seemed to be going with it—despite appearances, not a total stickler for the rules. Good to know.

“And Erica. They went looking for the body.” They must’ve heard the call on the old police scanner in Stiles’ jeep. He needed to stop letting Scott borrow his car. And Scott needed to learn to stand up to Erica’s insane whims, because there was no way this wasn’t her idea.

They walked in silence for a second before Parrish said, “You know you’d do the same if you were their age, right?”

“Shut up.”

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the one for writers

handwritting or typing? silence or music? at night or day? pens or pencils? short stories or novels? poetry or prose? dialogue or description? fiction or nonfiction? original or fanfic? journals or letters?

anonymous asked:

Stop quoting these colored people

Im not sure when you last stepped outside, but there are 7.6 billion people living in this world.

700 million of them are white.
6.9 BILLION are people of colour..

It’s going to be very difficult to silence all of the people of colour, simply because YOU and people like you choose to live in delusion.

So no, I won’t stop sourcing quotes from the “coloured people”

We too lit.
Navigating a white space as a PoC

This comes after a 7 hour conversation with the lovely Anna @pukingpastilles. Bear in mind that this is drawn from our specific experiences and may not be universal. We hope it resonates with some of you.

Scrolling past this is an act of white privilege.

A lot of people either see race as irrelevant or that we talk about it too much in our ‘post-racial’ age. However, for us, it is our daily reality. We cannot choose to switch off our race, and thus cannot remove the burdens that accompany it. We do not have the ‘luxury’ of ignoring race. Until then, we’re going to keep talking about it. You may want to ‘skip the drama’ but it is a privilege for you to be able to scroll past this. It is our very lives that you are scrolling past. We are attempting to argue for our right to exist in this space. The topic of race is extremely underdiscussed in fandom discourse. Some people either see race as not relevant to fandom or something that they think they’ve sussed because they’re ‘open’, ‘liberal’ or have a PoC friend or something. That’s very different from actively educating yourself on issues that affect us beyond what you see in the news or from history. That’s good, but there’s more. Just because you’re socially liberal does not excuse you from perpetuating the cycle of racism. We have to fight to validly exist, and that is exhausting. Existing is exhausting.

Being a PoC in a predominantly white space is an act of protest as our very existence is politicised.

It can never be just a story of two people, not when we are so burdened. You are never just yourself, race comes first, and you are never not conscious of this. A PoC would be constantly hyperaware of their race because it informs how society treats them in every way. You are always self-conscious about things like not associating with too many people of your own race in case it comes off as threatening or exclusive or discriminatory. You subconsciously make adjustments to blend into the space as much as possible in fear of offending somebody, such as changing your accent or clothes. You feel a constant sense of double alienation. You occupy a liminal space. You are the hyphen in the Asian-American. We are marginalised, Othered. We are never granted full rights to exist independently of a Eurocentric standard.

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Summary: In which being wrapped in your arms is the only place Bucky ever wants to be.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,363

A/N: Title of the fic and the fic itself are inspired by “Wrapped” by Gloria Estefan

Originally posted by rogers

Bucky thought he had seen all of the evil the world had to offer after the time he spent in captivity. Nothing, he thought, could compare to Hydra.

He was wrong.

Evil was everywhere. It was broadcast on the news throughout the course of the day. It was described online in horrific detail. It was talked about at water coolers, interspersed between tidbits of celebrity news and gossip. It was also hidden behind the scenes, in the hands of those who took advantage of their positions of power.

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